tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7029148070461049142024-03-05T00:55:16.712-08:00Jezi's Jibba JabbaLET'S GIVE 'EM SOMETHIN' TO BLOG ABOUT!JEZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02819511010471768954noreply@blogger.comBlogger56125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-702914807046104914.post-63239917150755611242011-09-01T22:17:00.000-07:002011-09-01T22:20:52.736-07:00NOT THIS GUY<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Every so often I check out the local paper from the county in which I blossomed until I up and left for a higher education. It's very entertaining. In fact I have posted the local police report on here before because you read about someone's change being stolen out of their car or a chainsaw that went missing. Or even some "skids" that disappeared from the local tractor distributor. Well, once again I sought and found cheap thrills from this paper. On the front page was a picture of a kid. Well, at first glance I thought "kid", nothing more. Kinda creepy looking, with dark, sullen eyes like someone who doesn't sleep or smokes too much weed. He had a smirk on his face like he's constantly got something up his sleeve and we'll never find out what it is. It was this guy:</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi40ZUXbSeQeP1hgLHGN7pvBhyphenhyphenf8wLTkwbz5CZkdHzYsdjGOY4Z5o_NsZhhs4VMe09VE_14DrdbsbjNx1SxXJP7pA5NFE9tCxto0_s7k4fVHkHF4X2OU3E32jP_RA0VITw_ddomXq0oenzi/s1600/ministry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="146px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi40ZUXbSeQeP1hgLHGN7pvBhyphenhyphenf8wLTkwbz5CZkdHzYsdjGOY4Z5o_NsZhhs4VMe09VE_14DrdbsbjNx1SxXJP7pA5NFE9tCxto0_s7k4fVHkHF4X2OU3E32jP_RA0VITw_ddomXq0oenzi/s320/ministry.jpg" width="320px" xaa="true" /></a></div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Not sure why the black box to his left, but whatever. Anyway, I then see the caption. His title, so to speak. And as it turns out he is the new Youth and Family Minister at our local Lutheren Church. I'm alarmed. I don't know why. But if you are being introduced, and especially if you are to make an impression on parents whose youths you will be ministering, wouldn't you want to clean it up a little. Where was God when this picture was taken? I already don't like the guy. He looks smarmy. Icky. And he's only 20. He's still a youth! Oy. Call me crazy. Although I guess he has good charisma. Then again, Hitler had a lot of that too and we all know that went over like a Led Zepplin. However, maybe he'll rock and do great things for kids. Maybe had he counseled or ministered the couple below, they wouldn't look like they got their engagement photo taken amidst flying forward on a sex swing? Or like she's his mother pressing her teen aged son up against her breasts. Like this:</span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg629gJSQa0yTiicS92ir2L_JM3CxCsrvZYti1AkOPyEd1tsR1r0w6ZqgbHnngZ-anTlfEokBBQQfn82D-MUGDA6q__6PfboCRJ72NVHKr5-lmZ0Yo8WGbvb9FOl-lyQvnPP7yOnifTm7zN/s1600/Eng-Davis-White.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg629gJSQa0yTiicS92ir2L_JM3CxCsrvZYti1AkOPyEd1tsR1r0w6ZqgbHnngZ-anTlfEokBBQQfn82D-MUGDA6q__6PfboCRJ72NVHKr5-lmZ0Yo8WGbvb9FOl-lyQvnPP7yOnifTm7zN/s1600/Eng-Davis-White.jpg" xaa="true" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="left" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">What goes on in this town?</span></div>JEZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02819511010471768954noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-702914807046104914.post-40120857766281748222011-08-25T00:19:00.000-07:002011-08-25T00:19:56.361-07:00Don't Forget Me When I'm Gone<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Wow. It's been a long time since I've blogged. It's ok though. I only have two followers so it's cool. Not that I don't care about my followers. You know who you are. SHOUT OUT!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Amazing things have happened. I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. He was fat. He's now six months old and fatter yet. I love fat babies. And he's a good baby. Initially I was worried because he was high maintenance like our daughter, where you couldn't put her down and he would cry. He took only brief cat-naps and to get him to sleep you had to bounce him violently in a bouncy chair or swing him on high speeds. At one point I sent my boyfriend to the store for some rubber traction stickers to put on the bottom of our nursery "glider" because I had to rock with such force that the whole chair would move across the room. That was not cool. The stickers worked wonders! Happy rocking it was.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Then I remember the sleep bible. The book. The words of wisdom that saved us last time around. I thought I'd remembered everything about sleep patterns of infants, but once I started skimming the pages, I realized I'd forgotten most everything. OH SNAP!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Anyway, we got back on track. Our son still does not sleep as well as our daughter did. With her you could lay her in any crib, anywhere and she'd go to sleep without a peep. Our son, not so much. Even at six months he likes to complain before passing out. Or maybe he forgets each time that he has a thumb or finger he likes to suck on to soothe himself. I don't know. In general, I can't complain. He goes to bed at 5:30pm and sleeps until 6am. Well, we don't go to him before six unless he sounds like he has his head caught in one of those dangerous positions between the mattress and bumper. Most times he wakes up gayly around 5:30am and has a little party until we get to him. I refuse to "train" him to get up before 6am. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Another big event is my pending 20 year high school class reunion coming up this weekend! I've been helping plan it. I'm very anxious about it all, hoping it goes well. I found a fun outfit to wear. I lost a little weight. On average I have gained .75 or 3/4 of a pound every year since graduation. Not too bad. I'm not fat. AND..I JUST HAD A BABY! HAHAHA. Kidding of course. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So ya. I don't know how much longer I'll be at this blog. I'm thinking of starting anew with True Confessions of a Mediocre Mother. Stay tuned. I will lead you there if I go and you wish to follow. TOODLES!</span><br />
JEZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02819511010471768954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-702914807046104914.post-3945671381726036822011-06-30T19:58:00.000-07:002011-06-30T20:00:34.976-07:00Every Bit of Humor HelpsI received a swimsuit today. One of four, yes FOUR, that I ordered online in search of the perfect..AHEM..miraculous fit. And I love it. And miraculously, it fits. Not like in the picture of course, but isn't it cute?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1fQNUHftgnvr666CxK08HTB8ccsWpSChTu87PXcFn0TzuLaFZCsPiX_2Y6-_IobcCjUuIIeNduyF-a2wdTa-bQDDqFnUl-jCjK8JpVrQtG4jkdHz0-7obyyUIoiJw9kztg5F56NI6JZ0K/s1600/TH3040_60NVY-227E.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1fQNUHftgnvr666CxK08HTB8ccsWpSChTu87PXcFn0TzuLaFZCsPiX_2Y6-_IobcCjUuIIeNduyF-a2wdTa-bQDDqFnUl-jCjK8JpVrQtG4jkdHz0-7obyyUIoiJw9kztg5F56NI6JZ0K/s320/TH3040_60NVY-227E.jpg" width="267px" /></a></div>The first three didn't excite me like this one did.<br />
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So anyway, I like it sooo much that I thought I would tell all my girlfriends about it. I open my email and find the "payment confirmation/shipping confirmation" one and as I'm scrolling down and scanning the words looking for the name of the suit I see this:<br />
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<strong><em>Shipping Method: FEDEX Ground (Delivered by the attractive, shorts-wearing FedEx Guy in 3-5 business Days)</em></strong><br />
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That kinda cracked me up. But it got me to thinking...do they not hire women?<br />
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And just in case you have to have it too, it's a Tommy Hilfiger Noepe Patterned Tankini. Dig it.JEZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02819511010471768954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-702914807046104914.post-73899971093479591982011-06-30T19:32:00.000-07:002011-06-30T19:32:12.237-07:00UNDIES UPDATE<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">They were mine. Yup. I feel like such an idiot. A ruh-tard. I started doing some of the heaviest thinking to date and realized that they had the same exact cut and ribbon as another pair that I do wear; ones with cherries on them. They came in a pack of three. Maternity underwear. Yup. Shame on me. They matched up perfectly, just like the glass slipper in many ways. Sorry boyfriend. Sorry mind. Sorry blog. I guess I continue on waiting for the cheating to happen cause apparently it hasn't happen just yet.</span>JEZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02819511010471768954noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-702914807046104914.post-81168632124191050802011-06-23T21:31:00.000-07:002011-06-23T21:35:13.652-07:00The Case of the Mysterious Panties<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Bloomers, really. Pink. They come down in the front to form a "V" met with a tiny little ribbon tied in a bow. They are high cut, and certainly not small. On the back written in red is the cursive word <em><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">LOVE</span></strong></em>. I studied these undies today after pulling them out of my drawer in effort to get ready to go to work. They were slightly folded and when I grabbed them I had anticipated that they were a pair of my pink maternity bloomers from '07 when I was prego with Miss M. What I didn't expect was that not only were they NOT that pair, but they weren't even mine or any I'd ever owned! Or were they? Do I possibly (but not really) remember buying a multi-pack and this pair was amongst them but because of their cheesy nature I stuffed them away and forgot about them? Nah. They look too tired for that. Although not worn enough to have stained. And lord knows we women stain crotches rather quickly with our expected "monthly" showing up unexpectedly and all. I kept my cool and started to run down the possibilities that would allow my man to continue to reside in our house.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">T-bone? She's one of my best friends. She has spent many nights at our house and even done laundry there but that was a long time ago and even so, these didn't strike me as Tre's type. Regardless I call her immediately. She didn't really have a recollection of such an item but couldn't rule it out. I agreed, I didn't really know anyone who would advertise "Love" on the rear of their bloomers. She tried to calm me and assure me that "he" just wasn't the type and never would do <em>that</em>. But would he? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">O? As in Wicky. She stayed at our house to help out when I had baby number two. These were slightly folded and she did fold the undies she washed. She denied the claim. Bummer. They probably were too big for her anyway. She suggested asking my Mom. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">HAHAHAHAAAA!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">That's funny because my Mother, like O herself, is 65. Now, my Mom is not huge but her ass is on the wider side and very flat and I guarantee you she has never purchased anything remotely close to the undergarment in question. Besides, she's strictly into silk. Then why would I suspect Wicky you wonder? Unlike my Mom, she is into stuff like that. She likes leopard print. 'Nuff said yo.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I sent out a couple more texts. One to my bestie from high school and one to my neighbor from my old hood growin' up. DENIED! DENIED! Both have spent nights at my house on many occasions. They could easily have gotten left behind in the mix, especially since my man and I always give up our room to our guests. Except for T-bone. She's too much of a mess with her C-pap machine and stinky feet. She gets the couch. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So, here I am. The mystery continues. When I discussed my perplexing panty issue with my other half he was just as confused. He suggested maybe I got them in a bag with all the baby clothes people have been handing down to me. Maybe? Quite possible, although JRae is known to try to convert you to wearing "thongs" (no thanks!) and the other two hand-me-downers aren't the right size or the type. I guess I can't say that for sure. Maybe their marriages are in need of some extra "love" if you get my drift. But I can tell you right now, men don't pay attention to your underwear. Except that they would rather see you without them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It's not like I think I'm being cheated on. In fact I'm ninety nine percent sure that's not what's going on here. But I wouldn't be human if it didn't lay some "what ifs" out on the table. I grew up NOT trusting men. I can safely say that I know several unfaithful men. I've been on both sides and on the outside looking in. I grew up answering threatening phone calls from mistresses and then later questioning the hickeys on my boyfriends' neck that I did not create. Shit like that followed me into the college years as well. "Oh really? She's a friend from High school? Do you always grind on the dance floor with friends from high school?" Hey..I wasn't born yesterday. But the last time I thought my guy was being unfaithful I frrrrreeeeeeaked out. My blood boiled and I wanted to kill someone. I found this list on a piece of paper by our computer in the bedroom and it wasn't my handwriting. WHAT THE FUCK? I'd been waiting for it like I do in every relationship and now the moment was here. He had no clue how to explain it. He was scared and baffled. Then it hit me. T-bone. She'd been over the previous weekend while my man was up north fishing. She took the Aldi ad and went online to search some things out. That list was her grocery list. I felt so stupid. And it was actually Mr. Faithful that figured it out. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So I'm not all that concerned. Curious, rather. With just a hint of "what if". What if <em>she</em> left them there on purpose. What if<em> she</em> crawls in through our egress window at night. There is no screen. Although judging by the larger nature of these panties it's unlikely she'd go unnoticed and without a struggle. Wait..they aren't that big. In fact they would probably fit <em>me</em>. Maybe they are <em>mine</em>. Maybe I just don't remember. But what if....</span>JEZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02819511010471768954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-702914807046104914.post-71215358053251883982011-06-09T19:47:00.000-07:002011-06-09T19:47:48.619-07:00When ya stumble upon some soft porn...<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong>I was searching for pajamas on amazon.com. What a score!</strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyXtlkw_gW4FbI-hjME9qbqmwvT3-7Zff3An3RxjhTaEGZvkjnMCrFsv6ZAv3lau6YjVYb-ZFZZNvIkr9WQXZQNyIaW-cHwsq-ZzXKQwAB-SyNtw8bwWd7lRnpF1x9IrmOrcNdc-D1ea4-/s1600/41KdukUBXiL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyXtlkw_gW4FbI-hjME9qbqmwvT3-7Zff3An3RxjhTaEGZvkjnMCrFsv6ZAv3lau6YjVYb-ZFZZNvIkr9WQXZQNyIaW-cHwsq-ZzXKQwAB-SyNtw8bwWd7lRnpF1x9IrmOrcNdc-D1ea4-/s320/41KdukUBXiL.jpg" t8="true" width="213px" /></a></div>JEZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02819511010471768954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-702914807046104914.post-56261841662025274042011-05-26T00:37:00.000-07:002011-05-26T00:37:37.488-07:00THIS IS NOT OKAY<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">There are several things to not like about the following outfit. Then again, maybe "camel toe" is making a comeback</span>.<br />
<a href="http://www.eonline.com/photos/gallery.jsp?galleryUUID=6#124664">http://www.eonline.com/photos/gallery.jsp?galleryUUID=6#124664</a>JEZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02819511010471768954noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-702914807046104914.post-22851794545723721622011-02-10T18:13:00.000-08:002011-02-10T18:13:11.846-08:00HEY YO!<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Thought I'd blog one time before I pop this pregnancy. I'm due to go in roughly 2 weeks and can't flippin' wait! I admit, I'm gonna miss this gravid uterus, well knowing it is my last. People are so nice to you when you are gestating, it's unbelievable. It's instantaneous too. Since my belly has visibly been "with child" I don't think I've encountered one rude individual. People's voices change when they speak to you. Their eyes light up with multiple questions. Even men who have never even had children show interest in your future offspring. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">On the other hand, I hate attention so I won't miss it all that much.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I'm anxious to meet the little guy. To hold him and hear his little stretches and grunts. To find out if he's genetically normal and who he looks like. Does he really have a pig nose? Cause it looks a little piggish on ultrasound. Does he have hair? Cause I don't see any. My daughter had a ton. I had a ton. My boyfriend had none. Will he be over nine pounds? I was nine twelve. My boyfriend was just over seven and our daughter was just over eight. Will he have a birthmark? Those tend to run in the family. Maybe he won't have any pigmentation! Or a hemangioma on his face, like so many babies born these days. Apparently they go away over time. Or will he be perfect like our daughter was..well, until the labial adhesion discovery. HA!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So ya, my body is ready to have this kid. My house, on the other hand, is not quite there. Bottles are not washed, but I hope to not use bottles right away. I have a few things left to buy, like a baby boy Boppy cover and a more boyish floor arena. Will he be okay in a pink Bumbo? We shall see!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I've also decided that for quite some time I will use this blog to journal things about the new addition. I didn't do that with the first baby and when it came time to scrapping her first year I couldn't remember any milestones or funny things except for her "scooting" style of transportation. I didn't think you could possibly forget when she rolled, when she sat up, when she started scooting. I forgot it all. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">For this baby however, it'll all be right here.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Until then....</span>JEZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02819511010471768954noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-702914807046104914.post-4483868787590664352010-12-30T18:36:00.000-08:002010-12-30T18:36:36.548-08:00WHA HAPPEN?<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I've never had a full-blown crush on Ashton or anything, but I have always considered him Eye Candy from time to time. Consider it NO MORE! Crush OVER! And by the looks of things his wife might be trying to sabotage Ashton crushes the world over. Friends don't let friends dress...well...gay! Check it..</span><br />
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<a href="http://www.eonline.com/photos/gallery.jsp?galleryUUID=6#106142">http://www.eonline.com/photos/gallery.jsp?galleryUUID=6#106142</a><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I couldn't steal the pic, so I could only provide a link. Well worth the click though.</span>JEZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02819511010471768954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-702914807046104914.post-29587117511908581712010-12-29T20:46:00.000-08:002010-12-29T20:46:21.549-08:00Out Of Words<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Maybe it's the holidays. Maybe it's living with a chatty toddler. I'm not sure what it is but I am out of words. I have multiple things I could blog on about but I can't seem to get myself to do so. I'm posting this just 'cuz I didn't want December to feel left out! HA!</span>JEZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02819511010471768954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-702914807046104914.post-10207252982382270682010-11-30T23:10:00.000-08:002010-11-30T23:10:54.317-08:00Trader who?<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It is with great pride that I announce I am no longer a Trader Joe virgin! </span><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">confetti falling and balloons dropping</span></em><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">For the past few years I have been invited on trips to and tasted many a snack from, and today I finally stepped foot in.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The adventure was quite overwhelming. It's a small store full of food gimmicks, if you will. Certainly you have your peripheral healthy foods like any grocer does; veggies, meat and dairy. The ground beef and other meats seemed a tad "over packaged" unlike the fresh look you get at say, CUB FOODS where they plop a brick of burger on a pink sheet of Styrofoam and clumsily wrap it with Saran wrap so it appears as though they just finished grinding the cow on site. TJ's uses very tight and sturdy sealing with labels that look as though they were crafted at scrap camp. Although lovely to look at, I'm wondering how long the meat sat around waiting for all this fanciness to be assembled!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Speaking of cows, if you haven't seen the movie Temple Grandin, you should see it immediately. Wonderful film!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Anyway, I then found the frozen isle which was somewhat of an appetizer circus. They had it all. Fun foods galore! Goat cheese pastry pinwheels in my cart please. Ooooh, salmon and spinach crepes! What's this? Swiss Gruyere flat bread with roasted onions? Mmmmm. Soooo glad we have an extra freezer in the basement! Step aside venison chops and pizzas, Trader Joe's is movin' in. Of course I didn't dare get too many of these fun foods and opted instead for items that my lovely man could enjoy as well, such as potato cakes and chicken verde burritos. (Save some for me please!). Did I mention the candy cane ice cream? It was a toss up between that and the pumpkin ice cream or mango sherbet. Next time!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I was just about finished with my frozen gluttony when this obnoxious desire to flee came over me. I wanted to abandon ship and run. This was absurd! I don't need this happy crap! I'm not hosting any upcoming event anytime soon. But I stayed with my cart and shamefully exited this isle of delight for more practical things, like cereal. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I brought a few of the items to work. The jalapeno cashews were VERY spicy, and I'm a spicy kinda gal but these left blisters. The fresh cob salad was less than exciting and the lobster sushi tasted like a tuna salad sandwich wrap somehow. I pray this isn't indicative of how my freezer goods at home will measure up! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Lunch tomorrow..steamed Gyoza with gyoza dipping sauce! Can't wait. Actually, I'm hoping it all sucks. I really do not want to ever go back to that store because there were sooooo many fun items I refused to even glance at that I'm afraid I'll cave.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Maybe I need a Trader Joe contraceptive...pronto!</span>JEZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02819511010471768954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-702914807046104914.post-40796149106600845312010-11-23T17:49:00.000-08:002010-11-23T17:49:17.401-08:00The gift that keeps on giving<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Nope. Not talking about Herpes. Check this out:</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNgM4OxJNyTd-bktMQkEWHmJ7gqdjrxN1aRsfDXg_KBdFTTe6KkxEa-UY2iQCNDON7YK1j3vX7dwYS6xRefRfUwmhJ1ZmulgtQQ_y9Fiwdel6FpIkGs1RlcNfH-49JY0lqACnScAoTqHiV/s1600/51RMKbiOXrL__SL500_AA300_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNgM4OxJNyTd-bktMQkEWHmJ7gqdjrxN1aRsfDXg_KBdFTTe6KkxEa-UY2iQCNDON7YK1j3vX7dwYS6xRefRfUwmhJ1ZmulgtQQ_y9Fiwdel6FpIkGs1RlcNfH-49JY0lqACnScAoTqHiV/s1600/51RMKbiOXrL__SL500_AA300_.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I assure you this is not a joke. So pray tell...WHO and WHY?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Are you the person playing lawn games and don't want to set down your beer? I imagine most lawn games require bending, jumping, and reaching. So how is it this would be good for that? Or maybe you are doing yard work? Again, a lot of movement required. Are you in construction and need both hands free at all times? Not good to "drink and saw", much less hammer or climb a ladder. I just don't get it. Maybe you want to mow and drink? If your lawn is sooo big you can't go the distance without a beer, then you should have a riding mower equiped with a cup holder. Golfer? I'm not one myself but I've seen people tee off and again, there is a lot of hip action in that swing!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So ya, I need help here. Digame por favor...WHO and WHY?</span>JEZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02819511010471768954noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-702914807046104914.post-63662424168202422102010-11-17T23:24:00.000-08:002010-11-17T23:37:17.084-08:00Can Someone Put A Hood On This Vent?<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Inhale. Exhale. Inhale deeeeeeper....exhale louder.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">This morning when I got home I couldn't park in the garage since my S.O.'s truck was in the way. It shouldn't have mattered, but I felt aggravated for really stupid reasons. We've been together 6 years now and have lived together a tad over 3 of those. From the minute I moved in he has continually reassured me that I will someday be able to park in the garage. "But I really don't need to park in the garage, really...I've never had a garage and don't need one now" I would say over and over. But he insisted- especially now that we have this new car- that I park in the garage. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Okay. I will. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I did, after all, give up my automatic starter that I OH SO CHERISHED in the winter and the hotter parts of summer. Our garage is heated, so it would be nice to get into a warm car, with clear windows to boot! So I have started parking in the garage. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">But this morning I couldn't so I parked in the front driveway. I then sleep for roughly five, extremely interrupted hours and then get up to pick up Miss M from daycare and the minute I open the car door it begins beeping at me. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Huh?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I try to start it and NO GO. Huh? Hmph? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I take off the "key less" knob and try the auxiliary key to start it. Nope. Nada. Grrrrrrrr.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Then I realize it's not in park. The S.O. did not put it in park when he got back from dropping Miss M off at daycare. Put it in Park..problem solved. Zoom Zoom to daycare.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I get to daycare and pack up the kid, unknowingly with the wrong boots (Sorry "P"). We get home and the demands of Toddlerdome kick in immediately. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I wanna (s)nack. I wanna watch Dora. I up. (She feels the need to constantly remind me that she is not napping). I want my blankie. I want my lamb. I want juice. I want chocolate milk. I want trick-o-treat. I want movie. Then periodically she'll start whining or even crying cause she's trying to cover up with her blanket and failing, or trying to do something ridiculous and can't. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So up and down I am as though I'm at Catholic mass waiting on my princess (yes, well aware it's my fault). All I wanted was to have some coffee, check email and Facebook and slowly continue to WAKE THE FUCK UP! Nope. Not gonna happen. So I try to clean and she follows me around wanting to help, which anyone with a three year old knows they don't help, they just slooooow you down significantly. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I wanna push button. I wanna pour soap. I hold it for you?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">NOOOOOO! Then I try to sit again, threatening a nap if she doesn't quietly play by herself. This backfires as she thinks it's funny and decides my legs need to be a slide and my back is turned into "play monkey bars". Then she starts poking me. Poke my belly..giggle. Poke my face...giggle. I'm losing it, although she doesn't know that. I honestly want to scream "GET THE FUCK OFF ME" but I gently pick her off me and explain that mommy doesn't feel good and doesn't want to play right now. Riiiiiiight. Then more demands come. I finally decide to get ready for work. It's my only way out. She won't follow me into the shower.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So the S.O. comes home and I make a comment about not being able to park in the garage and mention how he left my car in drive. His response:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"I wish all I had to worry about all day was whether or not I would be able to park in the garage."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">He said that at roughly 4:45pm today. It's now after midnight and I'm still livid by that remark. Because.. not only in that short few hours from waking up and getting our daughter have I had to constantly please her and take care of her needs while sacrificing mine (cause that's what being a mother is all about, right?) while also managing to do chores and hang up HIS clothes that have been in a folded "clean" pile on the dryer for about a week, but also I have come to work and had nothing but complete insanity in the first five hours of my shift.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">My first patient arrives 2 hours late and when I go to call her name she's on the phone and ignores me. I say it again, this time first and last and LOUDLY and she then gets off the phone. I begin scanning her pregnant belly and ask it she knows the gender of the child to which she answers "it's a boy. I really wanted another girl cause I have a boy and I don't know how I'm going to feed him cause they eat a lot". After the test I call the doctor with results only to be bawled out for doing the wrong test, and accused of changing the exam order. I won't even go into it, but basically this shitty OB doc ordered the wrong test and wanted someone else to take the blame. Then I go back into my patients room to deliver the OB pics that she basically instructed me on how to take by saying things like "oh, that's a good one right there, can you print that?" "Can you get another picture like that but with both eyes?" "Oh, stop there and take that one". Grrrrrr some more. Anyway, her boyfriend is now seated in my scanning chair and scrolling through the images on the ultrasound machine like know how to operate it and everything! WTF? The woman then comments about playing with my 70,000 dollar machine. Ummmm, more like a quarter of a mil! He continues scrolling and requesting certain pictures he sees and I just can't handle either of them anymore. He makes some comment about how I gave her a pic she was hoping she wouldn't get...I dunno...kill them? Can I?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Meanwhile my coworker is getting swung at by a patient who got up off her cart and was swearing and wandering the halls. Security finally escorted her back up to her room. That was a lovely blow up. It would be much appreciated if a nurse could tell us that the patient they are sending down to us is belligerent and violent and may need a "one on one"or restraints or sedation or in her case ALL THREE!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The night just continued that way. My next patient wouldn't stop talking throughout the entire exam. I was scanning the arteries in her neck, so this made for a crappy exam. It also distracted me to the point where I started mislabeling shit and forgetting to delete mistakes etc. She was so nice (for a change) that I didn't have the heart to ask her to stop talking! Then another patient comes with her son who won't shut up. I don't think people realize that I actually do need to concentrate on what I'm doing. Then people start asking me "what's that?" on the screen and don't realize there are thousands of pixels of different shades of grey on my monitor and I have no idea what group of pixels in particular you are asking me to identify. This woman's son wanted to know EVERYTHING. They are told I can't give them results right? Well they try to get creative by working around all that. "So, if there was a clot, what would it look like?" "So if the vein was blocked would you hear that noise?" "So, how do you know there isn't a clot?" Then you get all the basic questions "how long have you been doing this?" "where did you go to school?" "how long was the schooling?" "do you read the test?" "will we get the results tonight?" "will we talk to a doctor when we get to our room?" ET CETERA fucking ET CETERA.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Another patient had his son with to interpret for him. Little did I know the hospital had called an interpreter in for this patient. She shows up long after the patient was gone and while I'm trying to finish up paper work on another patient she is requesting a thousand things. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Do you have a phone?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Do you have a fax?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Can you sign this paper?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Can you fill this out?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Can I use your computer?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">She's talking my ear off while I'm trying to get other shit done and I don't really care that she just got paged 15 minutes ago to come in for the patient who is long gone. I don't care. GO AWAY! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Then a nurse calls from a floor to ask about an ultrasound I'm supposed to go up and do bedside. The patients tube feeding was turned off at 5pm and she was told I would be up at 9:30 to do the test. Nope. Sorry. I'm trying my best and I'd rather she be "npo" at least six hours. She was told four. Although that's our policy or standard for tube feedings, I'd rather it be six since it's late at night and people are VERY gassy at night just from breathing all day.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Then the S.O. calls to chat. He vents about his day and then I try to vent about mine and everytime I start talking there is obnoxious background noise. I'm already pissy. I try to be calm. First I hear a blow torch going which sounds like someone handed the phone to a tornado. I stop talking and wait for the noise to stop. It does, I proceed only for the torch to start again. "Geeeezus, what are you doing?" I ask. "Trying to start the fire". Okaaaaay. Then that pesky interpreter comes back with more needs. I tell him I have to go and call him back later. When I do, he starts talking about stuff and I listen. Then I try to start to vent again and when I do I hear this clammering, hammering sound in my ear. OH MY GOD! Are you kidding me? "I think I have to let you go" I say. "do you even understand why?" I ask. "I guess sort of" he says which is basically saying YES to please me. "I'm done now..I'm listening he says". At this point I can't speak. I want shit out of my night and it's everywhere I turn and I'm going to lose it. "Do you wanna finish your story before you let me go?" he asks. Then I get choked up. I actually start to cry. "No...I just have to hand up". </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Click. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I pull myself together enough to go do this bedside exam. The room is packed with IV's and the only way I can plug my machine in is by throwing cords over the head of the bed and dance around the room to search for a plug-in. I can barely even get near the patient to scan her. She's snoring (she's in SO MUCH PAIN) and she has a gigantic ostomy bag covering most of her abdomen, right where I'm supposed to do her ultrasound. I finally manipulate the room so I can kinda get close to her torso. It's an ugly exam. I can't see shit for several reason. She continues to snore. I call it quits with the best I can do. It's just par for the course of my evening.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So ya. Parking in the garage is ALL I ever have to worry about. No, my tool belt didn't break. My nail gun didn't blow up and pieces of the siding weren't missing. You're right. I should just be thankful that I had another driveway to park in.</span>JEZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02819511010471768954noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-702914807046104914.post-4470723635835867182010-11-11T21:15:00.000-08:002010-11-11T21:15:20.570-08:00I DIDN'T THINK IT WOULD HAPPEN TO ME<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">If I fart, I pee.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">If I cough, I fart.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So I guess that means when I cough, I also pee?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Regardless, it's all so gross. I've heard rumors a plenty of women having loss of bladder control after multiple (meaning 2 or more) children, but my multiple in the making is just that! Technically, I've still only had one child! Hopefully this is just a pregnancy thing. It's alarming sometimes since I am prego, to feel that wetness "twain ma legs" cause I imagine it's the same feeling you get when you leak amniotic fluid. Oh joy. Kegels Kegels Kegels! The easiest <em>do-them-while-you-sit-and-do-nothing</em> exercise and I still can't remember to, or make myself do them. What's that all about? It's Kegels or an eventual bladder sling? C'mon girl..get with the program. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Other random things I never thought would happen to me:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">* I never thought I'd purchase <u>Summer's Eve</u> vaginal wipes for that PTA (Pits, Tits and Ass) shower my mother always warned me about. But I've come to that point in my life where I have less time to pretty up by taking a long, hot shower with a full leg/pit shave (maybe even a yoo-hoo trim). Don't vomit just yet...I <strong>do indeed</strong> keep clean and still shower, just not daily like I once did. It doesn't help things that my hair actually looks better each day it goes unwashed. Lucky me! And did you know they now make Dry Shampoo in case your head tends to lean toward greasy after a day or two? Who knew? LOVE IT! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">* I never thought I'd be researching microderm abrasion treatments before turning 40. Something wicked is happening to my skin. When I smile, the creases don't subside. My cheeks look sunburned and are actually peeling without any contact with the sun whatsoever. I have brown spots attending the funerals of adult acne. Crows feet. Lines between my eyes from not wearing sunglasses, or possibly from my Lasik surgery starting to fail. I'm considering spending a Benjamin on some designer hydrating formula that probably doesn't work. I've already puchased a few wrinkle creams and moisturizers that got rave reviews on the Today Show, only to stash them away with other unsuccessful items such as my hemorrhoid cooling gel. Yes, that would be another "I never".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">* I never thought my body would stop wanting sex. My mind still wants it. My common sense and desire for a healthy relationship still wants it. Lord knows my boyfriend still wants it, but my libido ain't havin' it. Hopefully, eventually, I can add a Sexual Peak to my "I never". I used to laugh at my married friends when they spoke about the rarity of their intimate romping claiming "I will never not want sex" and now I never thought I would never not want sex. Disturbing. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">* Along the same lines, I never thought I'd see so much vagina. I had no idea going into this profession that it was so...vaginal. And in all the vagina I've seen, I've learned that I am in the minority when it comes to pruning my hedge, so to speak. Lately I've been thinking of finally goin' for that Brazilian. I suppose that is going to cost another Benjamin. But maybe once I finish (laser) removing the hair above and around my lips up north, I can afford to attack the lips down south. I wonder if they can somehow permanently remove nasal hair? </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I never...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">To be continued.</span>JEZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02819511010471768954noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-702914807046104914.post-35135723167571103742010-11-04T22:42:00.000-07:002010-11-04T22:54:10.313-07:00My Home Town<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Every Thursday night at work I look forward to visiting </span><a href="http://www.mcrecord.com/"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">http://www.mcrecord.com/</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">. It's our local newspaper <u>The Record</u> from the home town and county that I grew up in. It's very entertaining. Here's just one example of why. The following is the weekly crime report:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Oct. 14 — Scrap iron and copper items were stolen from a property on 330th Avenue in Foley.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Oct. 17 — An older model Northwestern skid loader, yellow in color, with a bucket and fork bucket, was stolen from a residence on 330th Street in Motley. Value of the skid loader was $5,000. Later, the owner reported two three-wheelers and frame/wheels for a four-wheeler were also stolen.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Oct. 17 — A property on Skyview Road in Hillman was trashed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Oct. 17 — A cup with $50 worth of change was stolen from a residence on 200th Street in Little Falls.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Oct. 18 — A 3-foot by 2-foot wooden sign was stolen from the end of a driveway on Quarter Road in Pierz. The sign said “Uncle Bob’s Cabin” and was valued at $100.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Oct. 19 — Someone broke a window in a loader that was parked in a pit west of Genola.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Oct. 20 — A Lincoln brand arc welder valued at $400, a radiator for a Super A Farmall tractor valued at $150, a 10-speed bicycle, a 1980s model Remington brand chain saw and a 12-inch crescent wrench were stolen from a garage on property on 10th Avenue in Burtrum.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">And if that isn't entertainment enough, check out the following link. Now, I have had a baby and thankfully all Mom's think their baby is the cutest because (and some of you will argue) NOT ALL BABIES ARE CUTE. See for yourself:</span><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.stgabriels.com/Sept2010storkreport.html"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">http://www.stgabriels.com/Sept2010storkreport.html</span></a><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Maybe you are fretting about retiring your plow. If so, find comfort in this story: </span><br />
<a href="http://mcrecord.com/archives/476789/swanville-will-continue-to-see-the-same-old-plow-truck-this-winter/"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">http://mcrecord.com/archives/476789/swanville-will-continue-to-see-the-same-old-plow-truck-this-winter/</span></a><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">You can also visit the Society news and read about engagements here:</span><br />
<a href="http://mcrecord.com/archives/category/society/engagements/"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">http://mcrecord.com/archives/category/society/engagements/</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> I don't recognize anyone anymore since everyone from my town that is my age, except me, is already married.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Or check out wedding photos in search of the good ole "up nort" spirit such as this glamorous shot :</span><br />
<a href="http://mcrecord.com/archives/476623/melissa-stuckmayer-kenneth-kasella/"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">http://mcrecord.com/archives/476623/melissa-stuckmayer-kenneth-kasella/</span></a><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Gotta LOVE John Deere. Which reminds me of something my Grandma once said regarding my Grandpa's obsession with his lawn: "If I was a lawn mower, Bob would ride me all the time!"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Amen Grandma.</span>JEZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02819511010471768954noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-702914807046104914.post-91168196958014206452010-10-28T19:02:00.000-07:002010-10-28T19:03:17.183-07:00Cat and Mouse<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">This morning when I got home from work I "put out", for lack of better words. I rarely do that since I'm so exhausted from a twelve hour shift that when I hit the warm bed I want nothing but SLEEP! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">All day I've been called things like <strong>beautiful, hot, sizzling, sexy</strong> and he even told our daughter that "<em>Mom still sends shivers up my spine, maybe even more so now than in the beginning</em>."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: large;">I need to do that more often. It sure makes for a lovely day.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAMh0IqV5XzZ8J6Jpad1CIt45amqaryRt_n5PdtN6BKk7JCkZd7JOcLKmB2wlUf19XpPgeeFaS1GSOUpEbRCv5C1vsC7wddH5I88cDbmMhNbuFS7ZqXwTUJyu0oNKedN0J43rAP0jfuJI_/s1600/PeruvianKiss.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAMh0IqV5XzZ8J6Jpad1CIt45amqaryRt_n5PdtN6BKk7JCkZd7JOcLKmB2wlUf19XpPgeeFaS1GSOUpEbRCv5C1vsC7wddH5I88cDbmMhNbuFS7ZqXwTUJyu0oNKedN0J43rAP0jfuJI_/s320/PeruvianKiss.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>JEZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02819511010471768954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-702914807046104914.post-19233427405665235322010-10-26T19:36:00.000-07:002010-10-26T19:57:12.197-07:00Baby You Can Drive My Car<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">And baby I love you... Tootooot, tootooot ya!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I'm not sure what people really know about me, but what they might not know is that I don't like attention, therefore I do not brag. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Enter BLAGGING.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">As one can see, I have a scant following and those that periodically follow are located half way around the world and for some reason that makes them as good as anonymous to me (no offense) and so I'm going to take this opportunity to BLAG! Yup, that my term for bragging and blogging. BLAGGING! HA!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">After a few weeks of researching and test driving 7 passenger crossover vehicles I have finally purchased a new car! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Drop confetti here.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The search was <strong>not</strong> fun. I don't do well with making decisions (another thing you may not know about me) especially now that my decisions effect others. I actually lost a lot of sleep over this whole car shopping ordeal (most of you know about my affliction with anxiety) and drove very badly the past couple of weeks ("I'm an excellent driver"-Rainman</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">) because I was constantly checking out other vehicles on the road. I ruminated daily about whether to buy new or used, or keep my current PAID OFF vehicle and continue to <strike>spend</strike> save extra money. I couldn't stop worrying about what would happen if I bought a car and then it blew up, like so many have in the past. I stalked Car Soup hourly in search of the perfect vehicle and prayed (jokingly, since I would never <em>really</em> waste a prayer on a material possession) for a sign so I'd know when I'd chosen the right wheels for our expanding family! Ya think it wouldn't be so hard?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I learned a lot in this process, however. The old me would be driving around in a lightly used Toyota Highlander right now, cursing that inflated monthly car payment. You see, I've wanted a Highlander for a few years and when I have my mind set on something....look out! But the revised, somewhat reprogrammed me, is the new owner of a <strong>2008 Mazda CX9 Grand Touring AWD. </strong></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCRGkmGO8v84vJK9wLxgJjQzbnEBPjV8WGGF5CW-nft14aK9-_nHn2Ppps9OExB3naBK-TfzsyrI8a-BUG4cW925tdRchD1mRoNCg4b85msWk9amVyvEv4t4cDo5v05XIOUn_WapDmnFTp/s1600/483bd0cf0a0a006401ce90850c9d4a6b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><img border="0" height="240" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCRGkmGO8v84vJK9wLxgJjQzbnEBPjV8WGGF5CW-nft14aK9-_nHn2Ppps9OExB3naBK-TfzsyrI8a-BUG4cW925tdRchD1mRoNCg4b85msWk9amVyvEv4t4cDo5v05XIOUn_WapDmnFTp/s320/483bd0cf0a0a006401ce90850c9d4a6b.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">That's not the car, but mine looks just like it. It has everything! I've never felt so overprivileged and spoiled! Heated leather seats. 6 disc cd changer with Bose speakers. Keyless entry AND keyless ignition! Automatic windshield wipers? Who knew! And so much more. I should mention the Bluetooth technology on the steering wheel as well, since the sales guy really tried selling me on that, even after I told him I didn't own a Bluetooth. HA! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Unlike the Chevy Traverse that I also had my eye on, the only bad review I could find on this vehicle was from a person bitching that they hit their head often while getting in the driver seat? HUH? What a melon! And, foreign car lovers might be disappointed by the fact that Ford built the engine. But Ford and Mazda have been married for years (although I hear they are divorcing). The Traverse had multiple consumer complaints of frequent repairs in the first year, even month of it's life. The Buick Enclave was just waaaaay too fancy. The Acura MDX too pricey. The Mazda5, although very fitting, was just not for me. Etcetera etcetera.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So now that I did some blagging, I have to throw in a little (teeny weeny) whining. Cause it's not perfect. In fact, this entire time I refused to look at anything that had over 40,000 miles on it. Well my new wheels (Italian tires, btw, to keep up with the 3.7 liter V6 engine; blagging over now, I promise) has almost 77,000 miles on it. I'm not excited about that. But I'm willing to go with it. My favorite man in the whole world helped me buy this car and although he did not FORCE me to go with high miles, he did sway me. A lot of the low mile cars I was looking at had been rentals or had more than one owner in a short period of time with absolutely no service records. "Keep looking", he'd say, "for a car with ONE OWNER that has all of its service records. This car was <em>that </em>car. It was owned by a traveling business man in St. Cloud, Minnesota, who drove all over the state putting on miles but had all of his vehicle maintenance on record with the dealership who sold it to him. 17 records in all for oil changes, tire rotations, brake replacements, you name it. So that's my gripe. But I'm coming to terms with it cause we've bonded, my Mazda and me. And you know what they say...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><em>Zoom Zoom</em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">PS: Sorry Mom. I will no longer have extra cash to spoil you with, but a nice car to drive you around in!</span>JEZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02819511010471768954noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-702914807046104914.post-10006917597076355052010-10-20T20:48:00.000-07:002010-10-20T20:48:35.887-07:00DID YOU KNOW?<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Cause I didn't. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">October is Liver Awareness Month! I feel a bit sad for the liver, for having to share the limelight with Breast Cancer but I guess there are too many things to be aware of, so they have to double up.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Now you know.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">GO ON AND LOVE YOUR LIVER!</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Kk7KX65gGLjx5FIDs8mb29S6fSlqDv07uqDwOyMh1B9V94CyD4y2o6-eOLFEIPDSslyRQxQbQHR0R9-3_IWMVLQfZKOiOChHAWQQAzugWDuD91mv1QxMEkYQ1z0CyOoM3zLVgV_SzCf-/s1600/liver_illustration.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="217" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Kk7KX65gGLjx5FIDs8mb29S6fSlqDv07uqDwOyMh1B9V94CyD4y2o6-eOLFEIPDSslyRQxQbQHR0R9-3_IWMVLQfZKOiOChHAWQQAzugWDuD91mv1QxMEkYQ1z0CyOoM3zLVgV_SzCf-/s320/liver_illustration.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>JEZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02819511010471768954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-702914807046104914.post-82843476598779705062010-10-14T22:23:00.000-07:002010-10-14T22:34:51.551-07:00"AND I JUST CAN'T HIDE IT"<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I'm so excited!</span> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I'm feeling sooooo much better, almost euphoric these days. I never thought it would happen with this pregnancy. I no longer feel like puking and I'm hungry for everything! Bring on the occasional bout with hemorrhoids cuz I don't even care. I feel <em>that good</em>. Big ole weight gain, here I come. Well, hopefully nothing draz-tik.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Anyway, to celebrate my regained, lucious appetite I have officially declared it <strong>CROCK POT SEASON</strong>. I started it by making crock pot pizza for my daughters 3rd birthday party. It was meant to be served to the kiddies, but you know how picky they are. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"What's thiiiiiis?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Pepperoni".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"I don't liiiiiike pepperoni!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"You eat it on pizza all the time."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"But there are noodles in this piiiizzzzaaaaa!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Actually, a few did eat it, but it was definitely a bigger hit with the adults, me included! With no heart burn to boot! WOOT WOOT!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The other day I was filtering out my junk e-mail and came across a link from Cooking Light magazine and it just so happened to be dedicated to crock pot recipes. Mmmmm. I don't know where to start, but ima make all a dem! Okay, maybe not. But check 'em out for yo'self and tell me they don't sound delish. (Not quite sure why feeling good makes me wanna talk like a "bru-tha" but sheeeet, ima do it!)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<a href="http://www.cookinglight.com/food/top-rated-recipes/slow-cooker-favorites-00400000038588/"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">http://www.cookinglight.com/food/top-rated-recipes/slow-cooker-favorites-00400000038588/</span></a><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I don't want to copy <u>Julie & Julia</u> or anything, but I will definitely crock pot some of this shit up and share my opinion with all ya'all! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"I'm about to lose control and I think I like it. YA-A-YA!"</span> (Okay, so it's not HIP HOP. Say WHA?)</span>JEZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02819511010471768954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-702914807046104914.post-75759409918745955102010-10-06T23:11:00.000-07:002010-10-06T23:15:24.352-07:00What's worse?<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Have you ever been "SWANKED"?</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2frBwYN1GGKL5aKoznAzbZentYJdIRd_bXJZU0FebeoP12MIwnza9S6l3jtkMYNSt5unF7EdtDqeqxT8ePiJlE_pudY01nCJ9n5uZaMdYdUCTRNv8uhyzEwRQt7txejCUjLVGNik_t83t/s1600/hilaryswank18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2frBwYN1GGKL5aKoznAzbZentYJdIRd_bXJZU0FebeoP12MIwnza9S6l3jtkMYNSt5unF7EdtDqeqxT8ePiJlE_pudY01nCJ9n5uZaMdYdUCTRNv8uhyzEwRQt7txejCUjLVGNik_t83t/s1600/hilaryswank18.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I used to think it was painful to watch Hilary in any movie. My sister and I dubbed it "gettin' Swanked". We could be talking on the phone and one of us would screech in horror:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Me: "What?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Her: "I just got Swanked"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Me: "Oh no! I'm sorry!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Her: "I need a drink" </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">(We are always looking for reasons to drink)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Seriously, she was at one time cute but maybe she lost so much weight that she became man-faced or something, I dunno. But I can't watch movies with her in them! I seriously thought nothing could be worse. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Until now. Until this happened:</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzUFZAU4jM8wcrZEHk5pB6ApgzEav5Hh44GC1uQyANAGtwvoILnoc28WWGXjblixIEgtsWmYusQQcaLWPRkemLZWMws-sJwneubpCMkACGYlm6G7VfauG2FO6YcyJgFnhRSa9CDNfu8rZu/s1600/renee-zellweger-435.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzUFZAU4jM8wcrZEHk5pB6ApgzEav5Hh44GC1uQyANAGtwvoILnoc28WWGXjblixIEgtsWmYusQQcaLWPRkemLZWMws-sJwneubpCMkACGYlm6G7VfauG2FO6YcyJgFnhRSa9CDNfu8rZu/s320/renee-zellweger-435.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">You have now contracted The Zellweger! UGH! Lately every photo I see of her makes me cringe. I feel nauseated and dizzy like I'm gonna puke or faint. What happened?</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggG_wUrn8F8ChANhF6kEmHbF9RqJR_l7LJT_lECIq6LuiVk8xo_h60ekrT6udADR52Whp5tOckzuaSikj8zQiEUchlqvHs9HTNs0gepGIVwf0uiHeJdU38saS_CE24fmWbzQ3iwZurDdwM/s1600/renee-zellweger-nomakeup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggG_wUrn8F8ChANhF6kEmHbF9RqJR_l7LJT_lECIq6LuiVk8xo_h60ekrT6udADR52Whp5tOckzuaSikj8zQiEUchlqvHs9HTNs0gepGIVwf0uiHeJdU38saS_CE24fmWbzQ3iwZurDdwM/s320/renee-zellweger-nomakeup.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit5zc1mwaMbNVn5iOiYFAUzfaDWSazBVQWKFOPmfoNGt8moC0u_0ogou95WcXGleg5LaEElTOO0GSPTZsA4KZF5i6LKejZ_GVAOetrznq47_Aqe_qa9n00m2PhEFFqNN4yBvPHdEJQsh21/s1600/renee-zellweger-435.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit5zc1mwaMbNVn5iOiYFAUzfaDWSazBVQWKFOPmfoNGt8moC0u_0ogou95WcXGleg5LaEElTOO0GSPTZsA4KZF5i6LKejZ_GVAOetrznq47_Aqe_qa9n00m2PhEFFqNN4yBvPHdEJQsh21/s320/renee-zellweger-435.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBkLn9BFiFXtISdB_9wIAEfO-QDo5Ft_-MxonGSMCHf-WK_9RnjNsmxvkmlf-qAR6vkTp0roiMLSVjWUOyeIJa2ek0qE4vXak38Z4f4ZSb20OuRi4STRIrUhf8dElYK10qzk6S6pX6rDOI/s1600/renee-zellweger-435.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBkLn9BFiFXtISdB_9wIAEfO-QDo5Ft_-MxonGSMCHf-WK_9RnjNsmxvkmlf-qAR6vkTp0roiMLSVjWUOyeIJa2ek0qE4vXak38Z4f4ZSb20OuRi4STRIrUhf8dElYK10qzk6S6pX6rDOI/s320/renee-zellweger-435.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">And how did she land this?</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlrAOYFq6Bj8-RhiQthnktCHCgh97ECM5zd81B1G4SIIqODcvIfiXUvYxt2oV_zQsqbBKFnz33pvrP_vBJAvmWbL71qGAjVKrFw7F2Ucjl6JC5mPMM4eO35LLjelQd3MCaST6UyLgQPhSZ/s1600/BradleyCooper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlrAOYFq6Bj8-RhiQthnktCHCgh97ECM5zd81B1G4SIIqODcvIfiXUvYxt2oV_zQsqbBKFnz33pvrP_vBJAvmWbL71qGAjVKrFw7F2Ucjl6JC5mPMM4eO35LLjelQd3MCaST6UyLgQPhSZ/s320/BradleyCooper.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Well helloooo BLUE EYES!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I now think I'd rather get Swanked any day. I do not want another case of The Zellweger. Now could someone be so kind as to "Cooper" me?</span>JEZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02819511010471768954noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-702914807046104914.post-46292076742318249602010-09-30T19:35:00.000-07:002010-09-30T19:42:26.839-07:00The UPs and DOWNs<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So today we went for the genetic counseling and level 2 ultrasound. Things went rather well, as I presumed they would. The geneticist was very positive and friendly in a "we could hang out" sorta way and told me that she's worked with some clinics that would have considered my lab results to be normal. HuH? Interesting. I'll be honest, I'm still upset I had the damn test. Here's a breakdown of how stupid it all is. And I'm not saying people shouldn't do it, but it should be better explained going into it.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">* At age 38 I have a 1/138 chance of having a baby with Down Syndrome.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">* The QUAD screen showed that 2 of the 4 results of mine were slightly off. This actually decreased my odds to 1/252. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">* The range for "normal" at my clinic is 1/295, but some clinics us 1/250 as normal in which I would have been considered normal.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So basically, this should all be great news! So why the further testing? You would think that they would only do further testing if the results showed anything under 1/137. OY. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The ultrasound today was fabulous. The Tech was wonderful and again "we could hang out" and in fact we'll be at the same conference this weekend. YAY me for finding a friend for the weekend! She looked at the heart from every angle. Definitely more than I could have since I'm not that skilled in the fetal heart. Our ultrasounds look for 4 chambers and we basically eyeball it when it comes for finding something irregular. She also measured the nasal bone and compared that to the ear-to-ear measurement and that looked good. She was able to see he had all the bones in his pinkies, which is good. His PENIS was out and about, flashing us constantly. Just like his Daddy...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">This all means that the ultrasound further decreases my chances of having a baby with Down's. This can't rule it out completely. Your baby can look entirely normal on an ultrasound and still have that extra chromosome. The only way to COMPLETELY rule out DS is by having an amniocentesis which tests the fluid around the baby. Ouch. There are risks. Babies can die. And if that comes back positive? What then?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">This is my dilemma. I had no idea until today that you can by law terminate a pregnancy up until 22 or 23 weeks if the baby has an abnormality. I tell myself I couldn't live with myself if I did that and so would never, but how do I really know? Am I just saying that because it's the right thing to say? So people won't be mortified by the truth of me not wanting to raise a baby with DS? Most I know, which is few, live with their parents for the duration of their life. Most people say they are the sweetest God given gift ever. We had quite a group of them that ate lunch in the cafeteria with us in High school. I remember "TINA" who would strut down the hall in her denim jacket and cowboy boots with her head held high. She thought she was the shit. Save for all the belching she'd do behind me in the salad bar line, I did too. Some would arm wrestle while the rest of us cheered them on. The winner would stand up and pump his biceps to the crowd, all <strong>proud</strong>. And they have bad days too. But something tells me this extra chromosome they have prevents them from seeing evil. From what I know, they are happy more than I. They don't see themselves as different, but rather, superior. They represent unconditional love because they don't comprehend the multiple complex conditions we do. Does this make them abnormal? So much so that you are allowed by law to terminate the pregnancy because they lack the shit that makes "us" complicated and conditional bastards? Dunno. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I only hope I can make the right decision. My heart tells me that the baby boy developing inside my uterus, kicking me already, is perfectly fine and lovable to every degree. Normal? But can my mind listen to my heart between now and February? Will I have to convince myself on a daily basis that "it's fine" and if it's not I'll love him regardless. If I don't find out will the first words out of my mouth be "Does he look like has Down's?" Cause it's fine. It is. He is. IS HE?</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://scrapetv.com/News/News%20Pages/Health/images-2/Down-Syndrome-Child-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" px="true" src="http://scrapetv.com/News/News%20Pages/Health/images-2/Down-Syndrome-Child-3.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZA1nB823tWOmnupqAKMIXAoT__EV03ECmcqFEptQthnKTj6leibrbzdF6NwaRo2iY1-3gjCZDxcefPdDtq0OguOpiZgVHpNv7j3OgKyGjm_M_wlIdX8F1iHdMRtwAQUsKVTiRV5xHwsaA/s1600/down-syndrome-child-blowing-bubbles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZA1nB823tWOmnupqAKMIXAoT__EV03ECmcqFEptQthnKTj6leibrbzdF6NwaRo2iY1-3gjCZDxcefPdDtq0OguOpiZgVHpNv7j3OgKyGjm_M_wlIdX8F1iHdMRtwAQUsKVTiRV5xHwsaA/s1600/down-syndrome-child-blowing-bubbles.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRIdoMPzmOYxyfeiPuT6F-KMBO2MeoVmZ9g0EsOJTS58YmmddCwmcPxyHWSQEEVTdetcvQd2Pc-UV3gDZkY9qhgdiZcnXbx4uKPpuqyZovfHgsWfkV-RM8v0jkgbxdqHtSfpKiqRAk1IP-/s1600/x10329348.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRIdoMPzmOYxyfeiPuT6F-KMBO2MeoVmZ9g0EsOJTS58YmmddCwmcPxyHWSQEEVTdetcvQd2Pc-UV3gDZkY9qhgdiZcnXbx4uKPpuqyZovfHgsWfkV-RM8v0jkgbxdqHtSfpKiqRAk1IP-/s1600/x10329348.jpg" /></a></div>JEZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02819511010471768954noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-702914807046104914.post-90996446990938965882010-09-21T18:52:00.000-07:002010-09-21T19:27:42.148-07:00Up iN The aIR<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I got some stoopit test results back today that hinted to the fact that my baby in-utero may have a chance of having Down's Syndrome. Granted, it's less that one percent chance, but that chance is still there. Now I'm hating myself for opting in on the QUAD screen test that delivered this bad news. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">You see, with my first pregnancy it was offered by I refused because of all the "false positives" I had heard about. My Aunt, for one, had this "scare" with her youngest daughter who turned out to be fine. A classmate in college went through it as well. But being I am now OF ADVANCED MATERNAL AGE my doctor pressured me a tad more with this pregnancy and I caved.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So what do I do? I meet with a perinatologist for genetic counseling to find out more odds and percentages. Then I have an ultrasound done that looks for soft Down's markers, such as missing finger bones, shortened legs bones, wide spaced orbits...to name a few. As an ultrasound tech I have glanced at my baby boy several times and haven't noticed anything different, but I'm only trained to look for certain things. I haven't gotten a real good view of his face since he likes to hide his face downward. Anyway, after that test I imagine I'll be offered an amniocentesis, where they stick a needle in my belly and test the amniotic fluid that surrounds the baby. And that will rule out things..</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Less than one percent chance. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I want my baby to be normal. Children are a challenge as is. Could I handle this? People do. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Less than one percent chance.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh36ks4dG5Uy6ULKSmTyUHZNy8pJhOUSK1svirNpxRP44hVwhwS7lERyUtWuyqW_1Wo9LnV2y1RlvAP6e-_OLZTYRNHrLBISS4XYliIE51Uf0GHRw1mhX9D9mG8tzjLzzBu45jLBIIB2aZe/s1600/TOLER18+W20100921211557886.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh36ks4dG5Uy6ULKSmTyUHZNy8pJhOUSK1svirNpxRP44hVwhwS7lERyUtWuyqW_1Wo9LnV2y1RlvAP6e-_OLZTYRNHrLBISS4XYliIE51Uf0GHRw1mhX9D9mG8tzjLzzBu45jLBIIB2aZe/s320/TOLER18+W20100921211557886.jpg" /></a></div>JEZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02819511010471768954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-702914807046104914.post-45439430401885885672010-09-02T20:58:00.000-07:002010-09-02T21:09:54.867-07:00My Dad, My Hero<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Last weekend my man and my kid and me packed up the rusty suburban and headed nort'. Waaaay up dare too, eh! Well, okay, not exactly to Canada, but close. We went to visit my Aunt and Uncle at their cabin for some fishin' and grillin' with a side of Dominoes (the game, not the pizza). On Saturday morning we headed even further north to visit my Dad's "Deer Camp" so that my Uncle could fix my Dad's satellite TV. You see, my Dad (bless his technically challenged heart) only screws things up more in a panic trying to fix something. My Uncle, on the other hand, grew up inside of a TV console and knows everything you need to know about appliances. He's fixed 'em all. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">As we pull into camp and exit the vehicle, I hear a really faint and sickly "meoooow" that I figured was a squirrel mating call or something of the sort. Yet I somehow felt compelled to yell "I hear a cat". Nobody heard, or so I thought. And we went about our visit.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I started getting chewed to beat hell by mosquitos and the heat so I took Miss M into "the lodge" of sorts where random hunters take shelter and play foosball and drink lots, I imagine. She ran around jumping on bed after bed and scavenging for lemonade and bananas while I cooled off under the ceiling fans that spun from the vaulted ceilings. Eventually that got old (for the toddler) so we ventured back outside to check on the progress of the dish positioning. This is where my entire day quickly changed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"There are kittens in this trailer" says my Aunt. "Didn't you say you saw a cat?"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"I didn't see a cat, but I thought I heard some meowing when we got here" I said.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">She brought me closer to the wood filled trailer all littered with spiders and their prospective webs. I peered down into a hole between logs and there they were..the tiniest of tiny little orange baby furballs. They were meowing and wiggling. One looked up at me and appeared to have a dirty or bloody nose. I immediately started "awwwwe"ing at the cute site. Then my Dad caught wind of what was happening. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"There are kittens in there?" He asked all surprised. You see he didn't have his hearing aide in and probably didn't hear the high pitched meows all weekend...or did he? Anyway, he went on to tell us that he pulled the trailer from a business in our home town about 4 hours south and when he started loading the trailer to the hitch of his truck, a big orange cat jumped out.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"WHAAAAT?"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Here I thought these kittens were suckling on mama's teets this whole time I was admiring them. Suddenly everything changed. I freaked. I'm sure I hid it well on the outside, but on the inside my pregnant self wanted to take these babies and get them fed and loved, at all costs!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Dad, you have to take them back with you! The mama has probably been looking for them".</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I don't remember the insensitive shit that all got said, but basically I was told that they'd been there for two days and likely would die in that trailer and become food for some wild animal. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"What about the farmer down the road?" my Aunt asked. She felt my panic. She knew my motherly instincts were on fire about now and was trying to be helpful.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I felt hopeless. We are in B.F.E afterall. There is no animal rescue or humane society down the street. I knew if I tried to give them cows milk they'd get diarrhea, so that was out. Water? Would they get desperate enough to know how to drink out of a bowl? I thought of my friend in the cities that volunteered at a feline rescue. I bet if I called, she'd make the 4 hour trip and come get these kittens. Although she would never find the place. WHAT DO I DO?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">More jokes were made about the fate of the kittens. I resided to the fact that they would in fact, die from starvation. It was out of my hands. I had to give up and move on about my day.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">We packed in the car and headed back to the cabin. The kittens didn't leave my mind. I could have done something. Why did I leave?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">A couple hours later and we were on the boat fishing when my phone received a text message. It was from Dad. (Okay, so he <strong>can</strong> text. He's not ALL that technically challenged)It said this:</span><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Jen who lives dwn the road is taking cats n will find a home 4 them. I couldn't leave them either. Spent 2 hrs finding someone but now will b ok.</span></em><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">And before I could process that this wasn't a sick joke I got another text:</span><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Jen went 2 g rapids 4 bottles n formula. Told her id pay 4 it.</span></em><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Had I not been on a boat fishing with two grown men whom I'm never seen cry, I woulda started bawling right then and there. But I held my composure and told everyone on the boat the good news! And then I responded:</span><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Awwwwe. Softy. Thanks Dad!</span></em><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">And eventually another text:</span><br />
<br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Jen has kits. 2 very weak n not sure if make it. 4 days old she thinks.</span></em><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><em>At least you tried! Never know. </em>I replied, in which he said:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><em>Damn things but deserve a chance.</em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">And if you know my Dad, he is NOT an animal lover, especially the feline family. Don't get me wrong, he loves his own dog, but that's about as far as it goes cause he won't even admit that!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The rest of the afternoon I kept getting updates including this forward from Jen:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><em>I found someone whos cat just had kittens in the last 2 weeks so im gonna take these ones in and see if she will nurse them</em>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It was wonderful news. The next morning I got another forwarded text from Jen:</span><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Good morning! One kitten died last night but the other 4 are doing great with their new mom!</span></em><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It was wonderful news! Sad as well, because one died. But first of all, I had no idea there were five to begin with and to find out that they were being nursed by a foster mama? Tears swelled in my eyes. And just when I thought I couldn't get more emotional, I get this text from Dad:</span><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">U made me look at kittys from a dif view. Thx. I luv u. Enjoy the day.</span></em><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">And I did enjoy the day. My Dad saved the kittens. My Dad, My Hero.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Update: I spoke with Dad yesterday and all four are still thriving! He and his wife are going to deer camp this weekend and are planning on stopping by to visit them. All four have already found homes when they are big enough! Isn't that fabulous? I cry every time I think about it all. I'm crying right now. Thanks again Dad. You absolutely rock.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">He's gonna take a picture for me, but this is how I imagine they will look. Orange and fluffy and happy and loved and waiting to get into trouble.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://inlinethumb15.webshots.com/2702/1060126241043396949S425x425Q85.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" ox="true" src="http://inlinethumb15.webshots.com/2702/1060126241043396949S425x425Q85.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>JEZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02819511010471768954noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-702914807046104914.post-24562609814122885902010-09-01T19:12:00.000-07:002010-09-01T19:43:03.732-07:00Cod vs. Cud<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Panko encrusted Cod" was the description. And I watched as she put out a whole new pan of fresh pieces all crispy lookin' and garnished with parsley and lemon wedges. "Mmmm" thought my pregnant appetite. (Welcome back, by the way). So I ordered up a chunk, along with some peas and roasted new potatoes. Dinner is served.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">WHAT THE FUCK did I just eat? Is there such thing as imitation cod? Cause I guarantee you that what I ingested just now was ne'er a swimmer. NO..this grew stationary in shit and muck, and not the good fertilizing shit and muck either. I could barely chew it? And to make matters worse, it is now stuck in my teeth and I don't have any dental floss at work. I found a straw but since my adult braces I lack gap so that failed. OY, I'm distoybed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Even more disturbing is the fact that I ate it all! But really, anything smothered in tartar sauce is edible. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Speaking of parsley, here's a joke that my bro told me at a recent family function:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Q: What is the difference between parsley and pussy?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">A: Nobody eats parsley.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Yup. That's my family. Come to think of it, that cod is what I imagine pussy just might taste like. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">What's wrong with me tonight? I best hang this thing up~</span>JEZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02819511010471768954noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-702914807046104914.post-86374018165319536602010-08-24T21:32:00.000-07:002010-08-24T21:32:58.582-07:00Weeeee for Wii!<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Back in January I started workin' out. I was gettin' fat and there wasn't much gettin' left about it. Then I joined Seattle Sutton Healthy Eating and I managed to drop about fifteen very unwanted pounds. Then I got pregnant and stopped working out. As you know I've been quite "ick" this time around and food just hasn't meant the same to me. It's not enjoyable, but necessary. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So I eat and do my best to keep it down. I usually succeed, especially since the doc gave me a prescription for nausea-one that cancer patients take. It works most of the time. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Oh, and I never poop. It's rare. Once or twice a week. Now I drink Miralax in hopes that will help.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Anyway, I decided to do some step aerobics on my long lost, forgotten Wii Fit Plus in hopes that my bowels might get jostled a tad and some shit might make it's way to the door. So I set it up, get it goin' and the freakin' thing gives me grief about not working out in 74 days. REALLY? That long eh? <em>Time is flying</em>. I do my balance test and then set down the remote (so as not to add extra weight) and listen for the scale to "boopboopboop" up the numbers. And to my surprise my avitar starts jumping up and down and then flowers appear on the screen and a message pops up "You have reached your goal weight!" Are you kidding me? All I had to do was get pregnant to lose that last ten? Crazy. I am officially down 25 pounds from where I started.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I reckon I'll make up for it. I'm well prepared. So I set a new goal. August of '11 is my 20 year class reunion. I will birth this boy in late February early March (provided all goes smoothly) and so I set my goal that one year from now, I will weigh even eight pounds less than I weigh today since the Wii told me that would be a good weight for me. Unfortunately I can't explain my situation to the Wii. Maybe they can add that feature? A Pregnancy Wii Fit PLUS PLUS. HA!</span>JEZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02819511010471768954noreply@blogger.com0