<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712</id><updated>2011-09-21T08:26:21.962-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Aspiring Annie</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>71</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-1926747461321655505</id><published>2011-09-07T05:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-07T05:34:14.536-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Good Stuff</title><content type='html'>Twenty-Six years ago today I was one month out of my teens and a brand new bride.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Twenty -Five and a half years ago I was ready to call it quits on my marriage because quite frankly, marriage was not all that I thought it was going to be. You see like many brides, I had put thought into the "getting married" part but hardly any thought into the "marriage" that would follow the getting married part. Suddenly all those little things that I thought I could live with or change about him drove me crazy ( I'm sure he didn't feel that way about me at all &lt;em&gt;* insert&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;sarcasm here*)&lt;/em&gt; . One day I'm enjoying my egocentric life, thinking I just had to let him adore me and make me the center of his universe, and the next thing I know, I'm expected to be supportive, loving and caring to someone other than me! What???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I mention I was young?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Immature doesn't even begin to describe it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I did what any princess would do, I went to my dad, because I knew he was going to fix this and get me out of my predicament. Over lunch I told him how difficult this whole marriage thing was and that it just wasn't for me. Then I waited for my dad to tell me the date and time I could expect the moving van to come and bring my royal self and all of my worldly possessions home. Instead he told me that "being disenchanted with marriage was not grounds for divorce and that I was to go home and make my marriage work".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks dad, but that was not exactly what I was looking for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It may not have been what I was looking for, but it was what I needed. I did go back, and well.. something was working in our marriage because a month later I was pregnant with our first daughter and here we are twenty-six years later still defying the odds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life hasn't been easy, in fact there were times we both wanted to give up. But thankfully God has blessed us with enough of the "good stuff" to keep us going. Sure there has been the obvious "good stuff" such as births, vacations, family gatherings, and many more priceless times we have shared together. But then there are the numerous trials that could have easily broken our marriage but instead of jumping ship at the first sign of trouble, we chose to hold fast to our faith and work through them. Now that we are on the other end of those trials, we can see the bigger picture and see that they are part of the "good stuff". Without a doubt there will be more of the obviously good stuff and the good stuff disguised as tribulations, but with a lot of faith and a little bit of stubborness, we will get through them together just like we always have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently, I met an elderly man at the hospital. His wife of 56 years had suffered a stroke and the doctors didn't think she would make it. As we talked he told me about how they met and when they were wed. He talked about the births and deaths that they had gone through together, the financial hard times they had weathered as well as the times of abundance that had afforded them trips to exotic places. He had a number of pictures that he had brought to put in her room and he remembered where and when each one was taken. Talking with him was both beautiful and heartbreaking at the same time. Heartbreaking because a life that he had shared with his best friend was coming to an end, yet beautiful because as he reflected back on it he didn't recall the mistakes, or arguments, or disagreements I'm sure they had. When he looked back, it was all "good stuff" because they had gone through it together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know we will be able to do the same some day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Anniversary Honey! Here's to more "good stuff" to come!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to end this post with a video called The Good Stuff. While it is written from a man's point of view I think the point crosses both genders.  The irony of this is that Paul is not a fan of country music at all but for 26 years he has endured it for my sake.  Now that's some good stuff!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="560" height="345" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/lYQZJ9NUzYU?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-1926747461321655505?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/1926747461321655505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=1926747461321655505&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/1926747461321655505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/1926747461321655505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2011/09/good-stuff.html' title='The Good Stuff'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/lYQZJ9NUzYU/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-6535655484773116888</id><published>2011-03-20T18:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-20T19:59:51.488-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Make Like Your Going To Walmart..... But Don't!</title><content type='html'>The title to this post is actually one of my favorite quotes from my Father-in-law.  He used it once to give someone directions.  If you knew my father-in-law and were schooled in the Cajun language, the directions to "Make like you are going to Walmart ... but don't" would make perfect sense to you and you would know to drive in the general direction of Walmart, but turn before you get there.  I'm not sure if the recipient of those directions ever made it to their destination, but I know that that line is one of many "papaisms" that always makes us smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Papa was a Cajun through and through.  He grew up in a large family, knew what it was to have much, and knew what it was to have nothing.  His early years were sometimes difficult and he had to learn to take care of himself at an early age.  What he lacked in formal education he made up for in drive, ambition and tenacity.  He was truly a self made man as it was only by his own determination and initiative that he became successful in life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember the first time I met my then future father-in-law.  It was at his favorite place in the world - his lake house.  He immediately made me feel welcomed and made sure that I was well fed which I learned through the years was his way of showing affection.  He loved to feed people and everyone was welcomed to come and eat at any time.  If by chance you couldn't make it over to his place he would bring the food to you.  Many a neighbor and acquaintance found themselves on the receiving end of Paul's great cooking. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He wasn't one to share his emotions and he didn't subscribe to using terms of endearment to show his love, but looking back there were many times when in his own stoic way he showed that he cared.  On many occassions  early in our marriage when finances were more than tight  he and my mother-in-law would show up with groceries and much needed baby things.  There was no condemnation associated with these gifts, only the silent understanding that this is just what family does for one another.  Or when I suffered a miscarriage and had to go into the hospital for an out patient procedure, Paul showed up at the hospital and sat with his son while I was in surgery.  There weren't many words exchanged between the two as they sat there together, but just the simple act of him showing up on that sad day spoke volumes to both Paul and me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So as we gather together to say goodbye to Paul Sr.  there is sure to be some tears, undoubly there will be laughter as we recount the past, and there will probably be some sort of food because to quote my sister-in-law, " He never liked to see anybody go hungry"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good-bye Papa, you will be missed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-6535655484773116888?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/6535655484773116888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=6535655484773116888&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/6535655484773116888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/6535655484773116888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2011/03/make-like-your-going-to-walmart-but.html' title='Make Like Your Going To Walmart..... But Don&apos;t!'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-106850241606376399</id><published>2011-03-05T06:51:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-05T07:02:29.051-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Date Night!!!</title><content type='html'>Ciara came home for spring break so we had a mother/daughter date night at the movies.  We shared a lot  of laughs, some girl talk, popcorn, and a yummy dessert.   I know from experience  it is just a matter of time before some guy comes along, sees the treasure that she is, sweeps her off of her feet, and then date nights with mom will be few and far between.  In the meantime, I'm going to savor every moment of mother/daughter time I have!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-106850241606376399?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/106850241606376399/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=106850241606376399&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/106850241606376399'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/106850241606376399'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2011/03/date-night.html' title='Date Night!!!'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-7864450292440329575</id><published>2011-02-14T13:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-14T18:37:09.059-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Love Is In The Air</title><content type='html'>I'm not one to go for chick flicks, or sappy love songs, and I don't fall for charm or flowery phrases. I prefer people to be honest and up front with me even if it is going to cause a little upset or anger. I like the direct approach and I would rather get it all out there and move on than to be left wondering about someone or something. I think after all these years Paul has come to appreciate this more "low maintenance" side of me. Oh trust me there are areas of my being that are not low maintenance, ( stop nodding your head in agreement here Paul) but my non-romantic tendencies make ostentatious holidays such as Valentines Day a proverbial "piece of cake " for him. That being said, he doesn't totally get off the hook because it just so happens that my love language is gifts so that means I like to be given gifts. Often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I have heard the argument from some people that a gift should well thought out and personal, and that things of a practical nature should not be given as gifts. I understand that point of view but I don't necessarily subscribe to it. I'll be the first one to admit I love when someone remembers when I say I would like something in particular or knows me well enough to get that gift that they know I will love. Even a heartfelt card or note goes a long way with me. But if my vacuum breaks right before Christmas and you buy me a new one as a Christmas gift I will be just as thrilled with it as I would be anything else. To quote an old cliche , "It's not the gift but the thought that counts" and I feel like any gift that is given to me means the giver thought of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So last night I was laying in bed reading my Nook&lt;em&gt; ( which happens to be a gift my husband gave me)&lt;/em&gt; when Paul turned to me and said "Hey I know our morning is going to be crazy, so I'm going to give you your present now". Let me just say, that was not the first time I have heard something of that nature come out of his mouth while I was reading in bed so I didn't exactly expect a fancily wrapped package, but to his credit he produced a tangible gift in the form or a gift certificate for a private hand gun class out at the shooting range.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now my romantic leaning girlfriends are saying "What??? You let him get away with buying your Valentines gift at the shooting range when he just happened to be out there in the first place???"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yes I did and I love it! He knew it was something I would like and the way I see it, while he was hanging with his buddies out at the range, he thought of me long enough to want to get me a present. That works for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Call me crazy, but I get the feeling that there is a new pistol in my future..... perhaps sometime around Mothers Day????&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-7864450292440329575?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/7864450292440329575/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=7864450292440329575&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/7864450292440329575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/7864450292440329575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2011/02/love-is-in-air.html' title='Love Is In The Air'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-5301355447379007817</id><published>2011-02-11T09:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-12T07:42:38.463-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Burning Bush Isn't Always Necessary, Sometimes You Just Need To Listen</title><content type='html'>Paul and I have prayed for our children since before they were born. As they have grown some of our prayers have changed, (we no longer pray to survive the toddler years – thank you again God for your Providence during that time) but some of our prayers have stayed the same and I’m sure they will until we take our last breath. For instance, we have always prayed for our children’s health, wisdom, integrity, relationships, and even that their current/ future spouses would be loving and strong in their faith, and that together they would fulfill God’s plan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Let me just stop and say if by chance this is the first time you have ever read my blog and you are starting to think that I have it all together and am some sort of “Super-Christian Mom” you need to start reading at the beginning of my blog so you will realize just how ridiculous that notion is. And to those of you that have known me longer than a week, you can now stop laughing hysterically at the thought of me having it all together and continue&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;reading.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately I have really had it on my heart to pray a bit more fervently for one of my children. That doesn’t mean I stopped praying for the other two (I can just hear my children now “I knew he/she was her favorite she even prays more for them”) it just means that at this particular time one of my children is weighing heavier on my heart than the others and it seems that this week has been particularly straining on our relationship. My daily walks are a great time to commune with God and as I set off on my walk this morning I immediately started on my litany, &lt;strong&gt;“ God&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;please let them have the wisdom to see your plan for their life”&lt;/strong&gt; , &lt;strong&gt;“Give them maturity so they will stop focusing on the things of this world and more on eternal things” “ Let them feel your presence and know your in control and have a plan for their lives”, “ Give them the faith and discernment to do the right thing when the rest of the world is telling them otherwise”&lt;/strong&gt; and the list went on and on. Then it happened. It wasn’t a burning bush or rolls of thunder, it was just a still small voice telling me that all these things I want for my own child are things that God wants for me as well. So instead of handing him my suggestions on how to change other people I’m going to ask that he change me first. Oh I will still pray for all those things and more for my children because I know that God hears and answers my prayers, but I will first do a self-check and make sure I'm where I need to be first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One last thing, if you happen to live in my neighborhood and you passed a woman out walking this morning who was bawling her eyes out don’t worry. That was just me pouring my heart out to God. I’m sorry if I grossed you out by continuously wiping my eyes and nose on the sleeves of my sweatshirt as I didn’t anticipate needing a box of Kleenex on my daily walk today. The sweatshirt went directly into the wash when I got home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey I’m nothing if not honest. Right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-5301355447379007817?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/5301355447379007817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=5301355447379007817&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/5301355447379007817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/5301355447379007817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2011/02/burning-bush-isnt-always-necessary.html' title='A Burning Bush Isn&apos;t Always Necessary, Sometimes You Just Need To Listen'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-1113267006571294365</id><published>2011-02-03T11:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-03T16:38:41.935-08:00</updated><title type='text'>There Could Never Be A More Beautiful You</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/TUtGyVAlC6I/AAAAAAAAAK4/kSgOtVgoMGA/s1600/DSC00675.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569623194620726178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/TUtGyVAlC6I/AAAAAAAAAK4/kSgOtVgoMGA/s320/DSC00675.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/TUtEGQs39TI/AAAAAAAAAKo/KMtq97naA9A/s1600/DSC00675.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For the past nineteen years you have brought joy to our lives. Your fun-loving spirit and dramatic flair have brightened many a dull moment through the years. The fact that you are comfortable at the shooting range, riding a four-wheeler, and burping like a frat boy but at the same time love nurturing children, volunteering your time, and doing girly-girl things makes you a wonderfully  unique paradoxical princess who is beautiful from the inside out.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Happy Birthday CeCe!  We love you bigger than a hangaburger!!! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/TUtEGQs39TI/AAAAAAAAAKo/KMtq97naA9A/s1600/DSC00675.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/TUtEGQs39TI/AAAAAAAAAKo/KMtq97naA9A/s1600/DSC00675.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-1113267006571294365?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/1113267006571294365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=1113267006571294365&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/1113267006571294365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/1113267006571294365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2011/02/there-could-never-be-more-beautiful-you.html' title='There Could Never Be A More Beautiful You'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/TUtGyVAlC6I/AAAAAAAAAK4/kSgOtVgoMGA/s72-c/DSC00675.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-8356020786340941593</id><published>2010-12-23T05:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-23T06:23:26.107-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nina</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's been a long time since anybody has called you that. The name Savannah is quite a mouthful for someone who is just learning to talk so you shortened it to "Nina" and that nickname stuck for many years. Eventually you grew into your name and it has been such a blessing to be your mother all these years. You are proof that my prayers did not fall on deaf ears. Happy Birthday Nina! We love you! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553882935273776386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/TRNbGpkY5QI/AAAAAAAAAKY/JScM_zpz0b8/s320/474775203_savannah%2527s%2Bshower%2B064.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/TRNWX5yiRHI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/D-CUvCmVubk/s1600/mecooking.bmp"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-8356020786340941593?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/8356020786340941593/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=8356020786340941593&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/8356020786340941593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/8356020786340941593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2010/12/nina.html' title='Nina'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/TRNbGpkY5QI/AAAAAAAAAKY/JScM_zpz0b8/s72-c/474775203_savannah%2527s%2Bshower%2B064.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-4386322205560613453</id><published>2010-12-11T14:10:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-11T16:33:01.505-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tis The Season</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I went shopping with the bestie. Our intention was to shop with purpose and knock off some of the names on our Christmas lists. I don't know what we were thinking because we don't shop well together. Oh we have a good time laughing, sampling yummy things we shouldn't be sampling, and talking each other into buying things for ourselves, but doing productive Christmas shopping for others just never seems to work out on our excursions. While I came home last night with two really cute shirts for myself, I didn't put much of a dent in my Christmas list so I ventured out this morning to conquer the mall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it was awful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first stop was Target. It was quiet and surprisingly not crowded. In hindsight I should have made that my only stop and just bought everyone on my list Target gift cards &lt;em&gt;Oh hindsight you are so smart.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shortly after I exited the Target parking lot en route to the mall, I noticed a man in a truck next to me trying to get me to roll down my window. Thinking something was wrong with my car I rolled down the window so I could hear what he was saying and this is what he said: " Hey baby what's your name?" &lt;strong&gt;ARE YOU KIDDING ME?????&lt;/strong&gt; Thinking this guy was either smoking crack or just coming out of prison and seeing a woman for the first time in years, I gave him a not so nice look and took off. He must have mistook that not so nice look for a come- hither look because he continued to follow me and try to get me to tell him my name. &lt;em&gt;Seriously does that&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;really work for anybody?&lt;/em&gt; Looking back I should have been more alarmed than I was ( there's that hindsight again) but I was actually just getting ticked off so I took out my cell phone and acted like I was taking his picture and then slowed down to get behind his truck to take a picture of his license plate. I say acted like because I really don't know how to use the camera on my phone but I must have looked convincing to him because he took off and I continued on to my destination.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahhh the mall on a Saturday right before Christmas..... need I say more? Probably not... but I will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After finally finding a parking spot and while walking a mile to get into the mall I mentally mapped out where I would go, and what I would get while spending the least possible amount of time in the mall. Basically I was shopping like a man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is that saying about the best laid plans?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, my plans were not in line with the hundreds of other people clogging every square inch of the mall. As I made my way through the throngs of people, I was assaulted by smells that I swear were not human, sprayed by a line of barbie dolls selling perfume, and run into by a toddler who's parents thought it was adorable that he wanted to push his own stroller.....in the middle of a mall filled with hundreds of people. Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As soon as I left the mall I headed to the liquor store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must say the liquor store is the ideal place to shop. There were no funky smells, no toddlers with deranged parents, and I didn't get sprayed with anything. I was in and out of there in five minutes and I was able to scratch my brothers name off of my list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was definetly in the Christmas spirit when I left there and I'm sure it had nothing to do with the samples they were handing out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-4386322205560613453?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/4386322205560613453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=4386322205560613453&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/4386322205560613453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/4386322205560613453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2010/12/tis-season.html' title='Tis The Season'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-3186712987098908591</id><published>2010-11-25T08:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-25T15:06:19.688-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thankful, Melancholy and Rockin the Turkey Shirt</title><content type='html'>Yes I busted out the turkey shirt much to the dismay of my family. Well most of my family. Ciara has seen the light and decided she wants a turkey shirt of her own and since my daughter and my niece are both talented seamstresses, I'm thinking I will be hitting one of them up to make some Christmas presents. Hmmm....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I'm certainly dressed for the occasion and the house looks and smells like Thanksgiving this year is again tinged with sadness as it is the first anniversary of my mother-in-laws passing as well as our first Thanksgiving without my dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It will be difficult to not have my father sitting at our table with us but I know for a fact he would not like his family to dwell on his absence, or to pass up a good meal because he is not here to enjoy it with us. So with that in mind, we will stuff ourselves until we are miserably uncomfortable, catch up on each others lives, share a lot of laughs and it will be good. Just the way my mother-in-law and father would want it to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are so many things that I am thankful for in my life. I have truly been blessed. But today I am especially thankful for the two people that are not physically with us any more because without them my life would not be what it is today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So take a minute to thank God for all of the people he has brought into your life ( yes even the ones that make you a little crazy at times) because his ways are so much better than our ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Thanksgiving!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-3186712987098908591?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/3186712987098908591/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=3186712987098908591&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/3186712987098908591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/3186712987098908591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2010/11/thankful-melancholy-and-rockin-turkey.html' title='Thankful, Melancholy and Rockin the Turkey Shirt'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-2130950194178753131</id><published>2010-10-06T00:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-06T04:37:49.068-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Birthday Wishes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/TKvWZnY9hMI/AAAAAAAAAJI/--rz8KPcJE4/s1600/me+and+K.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/TKvV-pKH2BI/AAAAAAAAAJA/Gltxo0MxNmM/s1600/me+and+K.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524744640076961810" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/TKvV-pKH2BI/AAAAAAAAAJA/Gltxo0MxNmM/s320/me+and+K.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today is my best friends’ birthday so in honor of this momentous occassion I thought I would write a blog post. Plus I haven’t gotten her present yet so hopefully this will suffice until I can get to the store but don’t tell her okay!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kelli and I met in high school but since we went to rival schools, we really &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;didn&lt;/span&gt;’t connect until after graduation. Perhaps it was because we were both northern transplants to a smallish town or perhaps it was because we were both just too cool for said smallish town, but whatever the reason we seemed to have an instant rapport and we formed a friendship that has lasted longer than most marriages. Like a marriage we have been through our share of highs and lows and there is no other cohort that I would rather sail through life with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have seen each other through births, and deaths, proms and weddings. From our children’s first days of school to their graduations and every stage of growth in between. Our families have been on week long vacations together and one particularly funny vacation that lasted only a few hours. She is always the first person I call when I have news that needs to be shared, if I need advice or if I simply need to vent. I know I could tell her anything and she would still stand by me and defend me against any of my adversaries. I know she always has my back!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this season in our lives we are sometimes so busy with family/work/friend commitments that we can go for a week or more before we get a chance to talk. Our friendship is comfortable enough that we can pick up right where we left off no matter how long we go before reconnecting. That’s a good feeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many years ago while we were on vacation, Kelli bought me plaque that is in my kitchen where I see it everyday. It reads “&lt;strong&gt;You will always be my best friend, you know too much&lt;/strong&gt;”. That pretty much sums us up. We have been through a lot together and we know a lot about one another. I hope one day when we are old and grey between the two of us we will remember all the good the bad and the ugly because having a friend to go through the bad and the ugly with makes the good all that much better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Birthday my dear friend! Remember you will always be older than me!!!!! &lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-2130950194178753131?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/2130950194178753131/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=2130950194178753131&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/2130950194178753131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/2130950194178753131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2010/10/today-is-my-best-friends-birthday-so-in.html' title='Birthday Wishes'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/TKvV-pKH2BI/AAAAAAAAAJA/Gltxo0MxNmM/s72-c/me+and+K.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-5467785809249529682</id><published>2010-09-29T00:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-29T00:01:02.874-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Facebook:  Friend or Foe?</title><content type='html'>That all depends on who you ask around here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a time when I would have never dreamed of having a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Facebook&lt;/span&gt; account. In fact I even blogged about it &lt;a href="http://http//aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/04/one-of-dying-breed.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt; . But then I ate my words and ended up getting an account which I blogged about &lt;a href="http://http//aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/05/eating-your-words-doesnt-taste-good-but.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;. So now I am a dyed-in-the-wool &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Facebook&lt;/span&gt; fan. My initial aversion to this particular form of social networking was in part due to the few times I would check out what my daughters were doing on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Facebook&lt;/span&gt; and from my vantage point all I could see were senseless bits of drivel such as "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;OMG&lt;/span&gt; Sushi is so good!" or "I want a cute puppy". No thanks! I have enough senseless drivel in my everyday life, I don't want to log onto some website to get more. However after delving into &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Facebook&lt;/span&gt; ( and learning how to block useless drivel) I have found that I love being able to reconnect with people, keep up with friends, and communicate with my children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is where &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Facebook&lt;/span&gt; becomes a foe, at least to one of my children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the most part the girls have no issues with me being their friend on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Facebook&lt;/span&gt; or commenting on their walls. At least they have never voiced the fact that they have a problem with it. Trey on the other hand - well let's just say he has a big problem with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trey only recently obtained a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Facebook&lt;/span&gt; account as he was an avid My Space user, but apparently there is a mass exodus from My Space to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Facebook&lt;/span&gt;, and he eventually followed the trend. I of course immediately friend requested him because I just knew he couldn't wait to be my online friend! I thought it was odd that I had to remind him a few times that he never accepted my friend request, but eventually he did and I was able to view and comment on his posts. For the record I only commented on &lt;strong&gt;two&lt;/strong&gt; of his posts, but in his book that was two too many and after a very short period of time he &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;un&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;friended&lt;/span&gt; me. What???? When I mentioned to him that it is a violation of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Facebook&lt;/span&gt; rules to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;un&lt;/span&gt;-friend your own mother ( no he didn't buy that) he said "Mom! You keep commenting on my stuff". Oh how silly of me! So I told him he would make me his friend again or I would never do his laundry or cook him another meal and he begrudgingly told me he would next time he logged on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure you will dude!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I actually didn't have to wait to see if he would be true to his word, because he inadvertently left his account logged in on my computer so I took it upon my self to re-friend me for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like being helpful like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So for the most &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;part I&lt;/span&gt; have kept my comments to myself as not to put our fragile online friendship in jeopardy. I did make him remove a comment from one of his sisters posts that I thought could be perceived as derogatory. But other than that I have been the perfect silent friend. Until last night when I logged onto my home page and saw that Trey had commented on someones post and he used an acronym that made me cringe. Oh I suppose he could have meant &lt;strong&gt;W&lt;/strong&gt;here's &lt;strong&gt;T&lt;/strong&gt;he &lt;strong&gt;F&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;un&lt;/span&gt;? or &lt;strong&gt;W&lt;/strong&gt;ant &lt;strong&gt;T&lt;/strong&gt;o &lt;strong&gt;F&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;ish&lt;/span&gt;? But I'm pretty sure he didn't mean either of those things. So I played dumb and casually asked "Hey Trey, What does &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;WTF&lt;/span&gt; mean"? He said "Huh?" I guess he was playing dumb as well but when he saw that I was logged on to the computer my question suddenly made sense to him and the best he could come up with was "Oh".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I don't think my son makes it a regular practice to go around spewing foul language when he is not in my presence. I would like to think he used that acronym to try and add some street &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;creds&lt;/span&gt; to a cool guy reputation he is trying to cultivate, but nonetheless he used it, so he immediately had to remove it and listen to my sermon on how cursing is really just lazy speech, makes a person appear uneducated, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;yada&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;yada&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;yada&lt;/span&gt;. When I was finished his response was "see mom this is why I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;un-friended&lt;/span&gt; you in the first place". To which my response was "no, this is why you will never &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;un-friend&lt;/span&gt; me again or all of our computers will be password protected and you will have to communicate with your friends via smoke signals and carrier pigeon".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With that we came to an agreement.... or at least I feel we did.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-5467785809249529682?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/5467785809249529682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=5467785809249529682&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/5467785809249529682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/5467785809249529682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2010/09/facebook-friend-or-foe.html' title='Facebook:  Friend or Foe?'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-8096684416742252512</id><published>2010-09-24T10:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-24T12:18:55.982-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Motherly Advice</title><content type='html'>Waiting in the car for Trey the other night, I tuned into the radio long enough to hear something about "the best advice your mother ever gave you". That started the wheels in my brain turning.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know my mother must have given me a lot of advice. But I also know the type of child/teenager I was so that good advice was purged from my mind shortly after it was given to me. I do remember her telling me that if I read at the table I would marry a drunk, but I believe that really couldn't be classified as advice and would be more of an old wives tale because I read all the time at the table and other than the occasional margarita at a Mexican restaurant, P is not much of a drinker at all. Needless to say, I didn't pass that useless tidbit down to my family. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seeing as I could not immediately remember any sage advice that I had received from my own mother I decided to text my daughters and ask them what the best advice I had ever given them was. While I was waiting to hear back from them I mentally made a list of the things that I thought I had effectively &lt;del&gt;harped on&lt;/del&gt; counseled them about:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;* Be who God made you to be. Don't pretend to be something you are not to try to impress someone or fit into a certain group. You are wonderful just the way you are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* There is a lesson to be learned in everything that happens in life. Even in the not so good stuff that happens to us. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Never wait in line for a guy to decide if he likes you or not. (This one comes from my disdain for shows like The Bachelor. I never wanted my girls to be just another "item" on some guys "buffet".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Trust me, one day you will like your siblings&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Surprisingly when I got the messages back from the girls, they were almost the same. They both said the best advice I ever gave them was &lt;em&gt;"Be who God made you to be&lt;/em&gt;". Yay! I imparted some good advice! Savannah also remembered the advice &lt;em&gt;"never wrap your BRAND NEW $150.00 retainer in a napkin because you might throw it away and then your mom will freak out and you will swear she is a creature from a horror movie" &lt;/em&gt;which was really not advice that I verbally gave her but it was definitely a life lesson she will never forget and is sure to pass on to her children one day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shortly after getting the texts back from the girls, Trey got into the car and since I was feeling pretty darn good about my motherly advice skills, I asked him what the best advice I had ever given him was. His exact words were "ummm I guess the best advice you have ever given me is &lt;em&gt;be a man because girls don't like weenies". &lt;/em&gt;Okay then....not exactly the feather in my cap I was hoping for but it did bring to mind one of the best pieces of advice I have ever received which happens to come straight out of Proverbs - &lt;em&gt;"Pride comes before the fall"&lt;/em&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess the best advice isn't "motherly advice" at all but straight from The Father. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh and thanks for helping me keep it real Trey!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-8096684416742252512?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/8096684416742252512/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=8096684416742252512&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/8096684416742252512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/8096684416742252512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2010/09/motherly-advice.html' title='Motherly Advice'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-2130310164366854523</id><published>2010-09-03T11:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-23T11:59:01.050-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What I Did On My Summer Vacation</title><content type='html'>Obviously I didn't blog on my summer vacation!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought about it, I really did! But for some reason I couldn't bring my self to put my thoughts down. I would call it a case of writers block but since I am not a writer, that term doesn't fit. Perhaps bloggers block? Yeah I like that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;This summer I suffered from a severe case of bloggers block.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I actually toyed with the idea of discontinuing the blog all together but then I read my last post and realized that I could not leave the blogosphere and have that last post as my swan song. I sounded a bit despondant  in it don't you think? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here I am to recap my summer so all those future generations I hope to reach one day won't think I jumped off a cliff in a desperate suicidal frenzy in June of 2010. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our summer started with the kind of drama that you can only experience if you have a teenage girl in your house. Lots of crying and storming upstairs over an incident that now seems trivial but at the time was a source of much turmoil around here. I can say however after the storm cleared, I had the most enjoyable summer with my youngest daughter. We had the opportunity to spend a lot of time together and we shared many laughs and made some great memories that made it well worth the bit of turbulence we had to experience at the start of the summer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In July we made a very long very fun car ride to Michigan. Unfortunately Greg was not able to join us as he broke his ankle in mid-June and was not able to make the long trek with us. We had a lovely celebration of my fathers life while we were there. I know he would have been humbled by the friends and family that came to reminisce about how he touched their lives. It was so wonderful to see family and friends that I haven't seen since I was a girl and it really made me realize that the people that are brought into our lives, even if it's only for a short time, are truly blessings to be cherished.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;August found us preparing to send Ciara off to college and Trey to High School.  Preparing for college i.e shopping for dorm paraphenalia took some serious time and effort in finding the perfect marriage of colors, print, and textures to make Ciara's home away from home the kind of place that will inspire much studying. Ummm Yeah.... Preparing  Trey for High School required purchasing one pair of jeans. No worries about the perfect marriage of colors or patterns for him! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here it is September.  As promised, God has provided for all of our needs. He has provided a job for Paul and at this moment in life things are on an even keel. No, I'm  not lulled into a false sense of security that things will be peachy from here on out.  If there is one thing I have learned in my many years of living is that change is going to happen.  Sometimes it's good change, and sometimes it's change that brings you to your knees.  But we serve an unchanging God that helps us navigate lifes ups and downs and really that's all the reassurance we need.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully I will be inspired to blog again soon.  I think prior to my self imposed hiatus, I had at least three people that read my blog.  I'm sure they had given up hope that there would be another post and have since moved on.  But I know my husband checks on occassion, and hopefully with this post he will stop saying "hey you  haven't updated your blog in a while".  I hope you enjoyed this update honey, but you were kind of there through it all so I'm afraid this might be a little anti-climactic for you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-2130310164366854523?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/2130310164366854523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=2130310164366854523&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/2130310164366854523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/2130310164366854523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2010/09/what-i-did-on-my-summer-vacation.html' title='What I Did On My Summer Vacation'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-6525194797285543704</id><published>2010-06-22T17:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-22T19:10:04.772-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Rollercoaster That Is Life</title><content type='html'>Back in the day when I had a lot of time on my hands, I was an avid reader of novels.  During the aftermath of hurricane Ike when we went without power for days and days, I actually read a novel a day for four days straight.  (It's amazing how much time you have on your hands when you can not go to work, thouroghly clean your house, go to the store or do any other time zapping activities that makes up an average day.)  I especially liked the books that followed a family through ups and downs and in the end everything usually works out and life goes on.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, I'm a nerd... I admit it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I love reading how fictitious  heroines shoulder lifes burdens and come out victorious in the end, this past year and a half has been a rollercoaster ride that has left me feeling less like a heroine in a novel and more like someone who is on the verge of losing her grip on reality.  &lt;em&gt;Okay that might be a little dramatic as I don't think I'm quite ready for a padded room, but man, I don't think I can take much more drama in my life! &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is what has happened in the past year and a half:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We saw daughter number one get engaged, and planned said wedding in four months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few months later daughter number one graduated from college.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In November we unexpectedly lost my mother-in-law.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little over a month later we unexpectedly lost my father.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two days later I started a new full time job and was promoted to a more stressful position within two months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spring time found us visiting colleges and preparing for the graduation of daughter number two.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This summer started with us preparing to send our son to high school and daughter number two off to college.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now we are dealing with Paul's job loss and anticipating all that we will be facing in the near future. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sprinkled in the midst of all of these major life happenings are the  mini-happenings that make life so sweet.  Things like family weddings and births, family vacations,  making new friends and relaxing with old friends...etc.. etc..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When my children were growing up  and something that they percieved to be major in their lives would happen, I would always remind them that there is a lesson to be learned from everything. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I suppose that is what my heavenly father is telling me right now.  I think it might be the lesson to just sit back and trust in his soverienty.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-6525194797285543704?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/6525194797285543704/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=6525194797285543704&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/6525194797285543704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/6525194797285543704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2010/06/rollercoaster-that-is-life.html' title='The Rollercoaster That Is Life'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-6742761091044882868</id><published>2010-05-22T13:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T14:19:24.841-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Doesn't Everyone Name Their Cars?</title><content type='html'>We bought a new car today. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Well let me re-phrase that..... we bought a "new to us" car today.  You see we haven't actually bought a brand-spankin right off the car lot car since 1991 but we have bought a few "pre-owned" vehicles through the years and the one thing the girls in the family find it necessary to do once we get a new car is to give it a name.  I say the girls in the family because for some reason the guys in the family don't think giving names to inanimate objects is important. But we girls feel that they have to have names so we can coax them to start when they are a little hesitant to fire up or prod them along when they aren't picking up speed as quickly as we think they should.  Okay that sounds slightly off.... but I know some of you talk to your cars and know what I mean even if you don't want to admit it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure when we started naming our cars but I think is started with Savannah's old beetle which was called "doodle".  &lt;em&gt;As a side note, about the same time she had doodle her cousin had a green truck that she named "Booger" thus proving that car naming is either a universal practice or at least a genetic trait&lt;/em&gt;.  After doodle came a newer beetle that was also called doodle because we just think all beetles should be called doodle.  It seems to fit their personalities. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Our volvo is called the "loser cruiser" by the kids and it kind of fits since it is a station wagon and well in my kids eyes it doesn't get much dorkier than that.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My car aquired it's name a few summers ago when the air-conditioner went out and we decided "Hot Flash" was a great name for it.  Even though the air has since been fixed the name has stuck for various other reasons. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; When Ciara got her truck it was aptly named "Mater" after the character in the Cars movie.  We named it that because it is an old red truck and we are quite sure if it could talk it would sound like a goofy hillbilly just like the truck in the movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  So a few weeks ago my mom decided that she was going to buy a new car and we decided to buy her old one so Ciara would have something a little more reliable than Mater when she goes off to college.  This car should be more reliable because it is the epitomy of a "little old lady's" car. While it is older ( 2001) it only has 42,000 miles on it, has been kept in the garage it's whole life and the maintenence on it has been like clock work.  So as we were driving over there to pick it up we were mulling over name possiblities.  In the past 10 years there are three places that the car has been driven to consistently every week.... Church, Walmart, and the bingo hall.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So.. Ciara is now proudly driving her new car ... "Bingo".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-6742761091044882868?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/6742761091044882868/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=6742761091044882868&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/6742761091044882868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/6742761091044882868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2010/05/doesnt-everyone-name-their-cars.html' title='Doesn&apos;t Everyone Name Their Cars?'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-5494634906459450657</id><published>2010-04-26T17:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-26T18:19:01.727-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The City Of Brotherly Love</title><content type='html'>This week finds me in Philadelphia. I'm so happy that I actually made it through the plane trip since seriously I would rather have a root canal than fly. But since I had to be here for work and not for pleasure, driving wasn't an option. I have however met some other women that are here for the same training and our hotel happens to offer complimentary wine and snacks each evening, we had a great time sharing "war" stories about or respective jobs. Since Philly is famous for its Cheese Steak, our group is on a quest to find the perfect one. Asking a native of Philadelphia where to find the best cheese steak is like asking a Houstonian where to get the best barbecue. Everyone has their own opinion. With this in mind, we may just have to sacrifice and try a couple of different places. Oh and there happens to be an ice cream parlor/chocolate factory right across the street from the hotel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Traveling is hard work!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember the movie Rocky when he ran up those stairs as part of his training? I found out today that was filmed here in Philly. Instead of participating in the planned mall outing later this week, I think I will follow the "Rocky Workout", and run up those stairs a couple or twenty times so I won't have to buy an extra seat for the flight home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-5494634906459450657?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/5494634906459450657/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=5494634906459450657&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/5494634906459450657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/5494634906459450657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2010/04/city-of-brotherly-love.html' title='The City Of Brotherly Love'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-3896466811528665278</id><published>2010-04-17T12:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-17T12:40:08.325-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Today I Was Cool For Almost Five Minutes</title><content type='html'>For exactly four minutes and fifty eight seconds this morning my son thought I was cool. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today being cleaning day, I logged onto my Rhapsody account and cranked up my play list to make my cleaning a little more bearable. As I dusted to Michael Buble, sang along with Beyonce while vacuuming, and mopped the floor while dancing to Madonna, my son continuously made it known that he considered my taste in music "lame" and "old school". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Then it happened&lt;/strong&gt;..... A classic ( albeit darkly disturbing) song - "Hell Is For Children" by Pat Benatar came on and he stopped and said "MOM! You Like This Song? This song's cool. The guitar is great in it"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;... OH Pish Posh my boy... I've was jamming to Pat Benatar long before I became a middle-aged mother of three!&lt;/em&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So for almost five minutes we shared a common bond as we listened to that song. He enjoying the talented guitar playing of Neil Giraldo, and me enjoying the fact that my son realized that I wasn't born a "mom" and I had a little shred of "coolness" in me. The spell was quickly broken when the next song came on and I was once again a relic with poor taste in music in his eyes, but it was good while it lasted. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of these days I'm going to tell him about the time when I was eighteen and some girlfriends and I just happened to be staying in the same hotel and on the same floor as a couple of popular eighties bands...... on second thought he doesn't need to know about that. Some things are just better left unsaid.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-3896466811528665278?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/3896466811528665278/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=3896466811528665278&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/3896466811528665278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/3896466811528665278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2010/04/today-i-was-cool-for-almost-five.html' title='Today I Was Cool For Almost Five Minutes'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-1007070959966197717</id><published>2010-04-17T08:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-17T09:03:20.777-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hi ... Remember Me???</title><content type='html'>No I haven't disappeared into a black hole.....well wait....It IS kind of like that.... I  have disappeared into the black hole of work!  Back in January I started working full-time and since I stink at time managment, my blog has been relegated to the proverbial "back burner" status. But I have so missed my little online diary and I'm going to make a point of trying to post at least more than once every two months!  Really???? Has it been that long??? I'll be back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-1007070959966197717?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/1007070959966197717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/1007070959966197717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2010/04/hi-remember-me.html' title='Hi ... Remember Me???'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-6382755724257114222</id><published>2010-02-14T07:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-14T19:04:00.722-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Your Birthday!</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Oh my poor neglected blog!  This post is quite overdue but it seems I was having trouble logging into my blog and fixing my computer was low on the list of things my IT guy (hubs)  had to do.  It was behind finishing the tile in the kitchen, replacing axels on the car, and reassembling a guitar that is going through a face lift. So guess what?   I fixed it myself!!!  Yep it only took me three weeks to figure out I just had to use a different browser to get into my blog.  This post was supposed to be up on February 4th. &lt;/em&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Birthday Ciara!  Eighteen years old!  It seems like yesterday you were that little girl who used to drag "Mr. Blankie" around everywhere and couldn't wait to help me in the kitchen.  You still have the remnants of that beloved blanket, and occassionally you still join me in the kitchen but now your focus is on graduating and heading off to college. You have been a blessing to us, and I can't wait to watch your future unfold.  We love you! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/S3i0-M-vdEI/AAAAAAAAAIo/UT3QQiPthlk/s1600-h/ciara+18.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/S3i0-M-vdEI/AAAAAAAAAIo/UT3QQiPthlk/s320/ciara+18.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438295530779145282" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have to appreciate how Trey  tries to interfere with every picture we take by making goofy faces in the background.   He can't outgrow that trait fast enough for us! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, lest we forget my "labor of love" that was your cake that day, I'm including a photo because I may never put forth that much time and energy on a cake again!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/S3i2gnIldKI/AAAAAAAAAIw/hXdGjc4q3_0/s1600-h/ciara+18+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/S3i2gnIldKI/AAAAAAAAAIw/hXdGjc4q3_0/s320/ciara+18+2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438297221426934946" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-6382755724257114222?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/6382755724257114222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/6382755724257114222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2010/02/oh-my-poor-neglected-blog-this-post-is.html' title='It&apos;s Your Birthday!'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/S3i0-M-vdEI/AAAAAAAAAIo/UT3QQiPthlk/s72-c/ciara+18.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-8972261680301879341</id><published>2010-01-21T19:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-23T05:18:22.638-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Brains Beauty and Brawn</title><content type='html'>I can't say she gets any of those attributes from me. Ciara is the spitting image of her dad. Last week she was inducted into the National Honors Society.     It was only after she started the application process did I realize how much is involved in getting into the NHS.  Not only do you have to maintain a high grade point average but they require you to have had numerous leadership roles and volunteer positions as well as recommendations from teachers.  We are very proud of her! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/S1kcpYzJHTI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/9oV5TB5p8ec/s1600-h/IMG_4045.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/S1kcpYzJHTI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/9oV5TB5p8ec/s320/IMG_4045.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429402323129015602" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While beauty and brains can get you pretty far in life, her dad wants to be sure that she is the type of girl that any guy would want to take home to mother. Because really, being too smart can get you into trouble, and beauty is only skin deep, but a girl that can change her own brake pads?? Well she is definitely a keeper! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/S1keYx3xzpI/AAAAAAAAAIY/kV5PISnMHTo/s1600-h/Ciara+changing+brakes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/S1keYx3xzpI/AAAAAAAAAIY/kV5PISnMHTo/s320/Ciara+changing+brakes.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429404236824825490" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-8972261680301879341?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/8972261680301879341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/8972261680301879341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2010/01/brains-beauty-and-brawn.html' title='Brains Beauty and Brawn'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/S1kcpYzJHTI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/9oV5TB5p8ec/s72-c/IMG_4045.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-3414060092972367775</id><published>2010-01-01T18:43:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-21T17:07:11.095-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Superman</title><content type='html'>When I was a little girl I used to think my dad could do anything.   When he would let me sit on his lap and "drive" the car I just knew he was the most fun dad in the world,when he would take me to the store with him and buy me a comic book and some candy I was sure that he was the best dad ever and when he would carry me up to my bed and tuck me in after I had fallen asleep on the couch, I knew that nothing bad would ever happen to me as long as he was around. Like every little girl I grew up and realized my dad was just an average guy with flaws like everybody else, but the little girl in me still treasures the times when he was invincible to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad had a huge heart.  He would give the shirt off of his back to help someone in need. Each year at Christmas he would find out about a family in need and anonymously make sure that they had an extra special Christmas.  Even this year, although he was in the hospital, he gave me the money to purchase toys, gift cards and groceries for a single mother who is trying hard to make ends meet.  He believed in working hard and instilled a strong work ethic into his children at an early age.  He loved his country and his family and would have laid down his life for both.  To him his grandchildren could do no wrong and he was never happier than when his kids and grandchildren were all gathered together.  Since we all live in different parts of the U.S, this didn't happen as much as my dad would have liked, but he always made sure to plan a special trip every two years so that we could all be together.  He loved his family more than anything. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few years ago after he suffered a stroke, and out of frustration from his limited mobility my dad told me how it saddened him that he used to be superman to his kids but now he was nothing.  He couldn't have been farther from the truth.  The fictitious superman may have been judged by his physical strength but the real superman that I saw in my dad was found in his strength of character and dedication to his family. Those attributes won't fade like the physical ones, they will be passed on to future generations. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember when I was younger I naively thought that losing a parent would be easier when I was older and had a family of my own.  I guess I thought that I wouldn't feel the loss as much but I was wrong.  No matter how old you are when your parent dies it is never easy.  Yes it helps that I have a wonderful immediate and extended family as well as terrific friends that have helped during this time, but that little girl who could see no wrong in her invincible dad has a hard time saying goodbye. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you dad!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/S0ZbJvIXhNI/AAAAAAAAAII/oIZ-IDqq1NU/s1600-h/ciaras+002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/S0ZbJvIXhNI/AAAAAAAAAII/oIZ-IDqq1NU/s320/ciaras+002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424123024042853586" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-3414060092972367775?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/3414060092972367775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/3414060092972367775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2010/01/deep-sadness.html' title='Superman'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/S0ZbJvIXhNI/AAAAAAAAAII/oIZ-IDqq1NU/s72-c/ciaras+002.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-3615513488938045467</id><published>2009-12-23T04:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-23T05:35:36.182-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Today Is Your Birthday!</title><content type='html'>Happy Twenty-Third Birthday Savannah! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Twenty-three years ago you were born very early, very little, and to parents that didn't have a clue as to what to do with a baby. Like most new mommies I was in awe of this bundle that I was now totally responsible for.  But you made being a mom easy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the past twenty-three years you have filled our lives with joy.  Your sweet spirit and gentle personality are such a blessing to us. You have surpassed all expectations that we ever had for you and we could not be more proud of the gracious,beautiful young woman you have become. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At twenty-three you have your whole life before you.  I can't wait to see the wonderful things you do with it.  I know you will make a huge impact on this world because you have already made such a difference in ours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We love you Savannah!  Happy Birthday! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SzIciQPlXvI/AAAAAAAAAIA/pHnYCzFODQM/s1600-h/sav+020.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SzIciQPlXvI/AAAAAAAAAIA/pHnYCzFODQM/s320/sav+020.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418424676481588978" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-3615513488938045467?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/3615513488938045467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/3615513488938045467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/12/happy-twenty-third-birthday-savannah.html' title='Today Is Your Birthday!'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SzIciQPlXvI/AAAAAAAAAIA/pHnYCzFODQM/s72-c/sav+020.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-2563337397377111024</id><published>2009-12-02T06:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-04T10:13:11.273-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Ties That Bind</title><content type='html'>It's been a sad week for our family.  We said goodbye to my mother-in-law as she entered into eternal rest on Thanksgiving morning.  Her passing was unexpected and there are many things that she brought to  this earth that will be missed but there are many things that she left behind that will forever make a difference in peoples lives. Probably the most important being her love of family and the strong familial bond that she instilled  in her children. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one can grow up in a family and  leave home after eighteen years and not take some "stuff" when they go.  Both tangible stuff and the proverbial "baggage" that we acquire while growing up.  Stuff like unmet expectations, sibling rivalry, etc. etc.  We can all fill in the etc. part with our own junk.  I know this first hand because I am a regular old bag lady when it comes to carrying around stuff from my past!  But I learned this week that baggage can be "checked" and hopefully stay forever in the unclaimed baggage area.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When my husband and his family knew that my mother-in-laws time was growing small, he called me and asked if I would like to come and visit her one last time in the hospital.  I knew she was hooked up to machines and that seeing her that way would be difficult so I declined at first, but God really put it on my heart that I needed to visit her.  Little did I know that in doing so he would bless me with the beauty of one of his finest creations - the love of family. The hours I spent in that hospital room were difficult but hidden in the ashes of impending loss was the beauty of family.  There was no space in the small hospital room for baggage of any sort only room for the love of a family as they said goodbye to their mother and helped her transition from this world into the next.  She left this earth knowing that she was loved, that her children loved one another, and that the family bond that she had sewn through the years was stronger than any past transgressions and too big to fit into any sort of baggage.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sandie was very talented in many art forms but by far her greatest masterpiece was her family. I see it in the way my husband loves his family and works hard to provide for us.  I see it in my sister-in-laws as they love their families and delight in their grandchildren, and I see it in her grandchildren as they love and care for their own young families. That love doesn't just happen.  It has to start somewhere. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you Mimi for loving your family!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-2563337397377111024?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/2563337397377111024'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/2563337397377111024'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/12/ties-that-bind.html' title='The Ties That Bind'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-200212704166938347</id><published>2009-11-20T11:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-20T11:52:59.886-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Effective Embarrassment</title><content type='html'>Everybody knows that teachers of young children have certain inalienable rights.  Such as the right to sing off key without judgement, the right to use a whole bottle of hand sanitizer in one day during flu season, and my all time favorite teacher perk:  the right to wear goofy shirts that you would otherwise never dream of wearing.  You know what I'm talking about.... everybody has picked up a shirt while shopping and thought to themselves " Who wears a shirt like this?".  Chances are a preschool teacher does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a shirt like that.  Okay I probably have a couple of shirts like that, but my all time favorite hideous shirt is my turkey shirt that I  only get to wear once a year on our school Thanksgiving Feast day.  It has a giant multi-colored turkey embroidered across the entire front of the shirt and every year when I wear it my five-year-old students think I'm the coolest thing since Scooby-Doo fruit snacks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday was our Feast day so it was time to break out the good-ole turkey shirt.  It's getting a little thread bare since I have had it over 10 years and I swear each year it shrinks a little more(!) but I will keep it around until it falls apart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After school I went to pick up Trey from school since he is still on strict parental control and will be until his History teacher emails dad and tells him he is the model student.  Here is how our conversation went when he got into the car:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:  Hey Trey, how was school?&lt;br /&gt;Trey:  Good  ( yep he is a natural born conversationalist) &lt;br /&gt;Me:  Hey guess what?  You get to go to Hobby Lobby with me!&lt;br /&gt;Trey:  (Heavy Sigh) Great.  (Then he looks over at me)  Ugh! and you have that turkey shirt on too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Double Whammy of embarrassment!  Not only did he have to go to Hobby Lobby with his mom who was wearing a crazy turkey shirt, he had to stand in line behind me and buy a cake pan so I could use both of my 40% off coupons!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm thinking we will be hearing from his History teacher soon on how much his behavior has improved in her class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never underestimate the power of public humiliation!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-200212704166938347?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/200212704166938347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/200212704166938347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/11/effective-embarrassment.html' title='Effective Embarrassment'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-495347378091331769</id><published>2009-11-18T06:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-18T06:36:11.838-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cheers to Experienced Teachers</title><content type='html'>Sometimes you can just tell when a teacher has been "around the block" a time or two.  I love enthusiastic new teachers with grand plans and fabulous ideas, but there is nothing better than a seasoned teacher that knows some good tricks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Case in point:  Trey's history teacher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems my son was acting up and being disruptive with his buddy at the end of class yesterday.  Somehow that doesn't come as a surprise to me.  Anyway in her infinite wisdom ( and much experience teaching Jr. High)  she explained to Trey and his partner in crime that she would be making a call to their parents and asked them which parent she should call.  Of course  Trey said his mother... and so the teacher knew to call dad.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kudos to you Mrs. American History teacher!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is nothing like a call &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;to dad, at work&lt;/span&gt; to ensure that the discipline problem will be addressed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Addressed it was!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In addition to having to apologize to his teacher ( e-mail will verify  that it has been done),and being grounded for an undetermined amount of time, Trey is now on strict parental control.  He gets a ride in moms loser cruiser each morning right up to the front of the school so I can watch him go straight into the building ( I stopped short of making him give me a kiss goodbye... but I considered it) and he gets to see me waiting to drive him home each day after school. Plus he is sentenced to a weekend of hard labor with his dad.  He doesn't have to tell us how happy he is with this arraignment... we can see it in his body language.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here's to wise secondary teachers everywhere who know how to use reverse psychology on teenagers!  May you continue the good work!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-495347378091331769?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/495347378091331769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/495347378091331769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/11/cheers-to-experienced-teachers.html' title='Cheers to Experienced Teachers'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-416796555469277071</id><published>2009-11-01T20:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-01T18:49:07.675-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Still Alive and Well</title><content type='html'>Wow it's hard to believe that it has been almost a whole month since I have posted!  I guess there has not been anything blog worthy to post about.... but come to think of it, that has never stopped me from posting before, so I guess there is really no explainable reason for my absence except for the usual work,family, school reasons. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; This semester I am only taking one class but... &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Horrors&lt;/span&gt;!!!.... It's a fitness class!  OMG!  I have to work out at least five times a week! Yes five times a week and strolling through the mall does not count as a work out!  It's probably one of the hardest classes I have ever taken. &lt;br /&gt;Okay I'm being  dramatic I admit but really those people that say they love their workouts have got to be lying.  I signed up for the class shortly after my break-up with Twinkie and the gang so I thought there would be some noticeable differences in my physique. HA!  The workouts have made me hungrier than a horse, and well a woman on the rebound after a painful breakup doesn't always think clearly. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a new BFF:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.bestadsontv.com/files/thumbnails/2009/Sep/23947_stufy_pic.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 184px;" src="http://www.bestadsontv.com/files/thumbnails/2009/Sep/23947_stufy_pic.png" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it is ironic that it is dressed in what appears to be workout clothes.  I don't know if that is to subliminally trick people into thinking Oreos are healthy, or if it is to remind you that you will have to work your butt off once you eat one.  Nonetheless, they are yummy and I love them.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I'm starting to come down from my Halloween sugar high, I will end this post by sharing some Halloween memories.  When we first moved to our block ten years ago, the dad's on the block were in charge of taking the kids trick-or-treating while the moms gathered together outside to hand out candy - and possibly indulged in a few adult type beverages.  Oh those were the days when I had three little beggars out there bringing home sacks of candy!  But seasons change and while we still gather outside to hand out candy, the dads no longer have to pull their beverages in a rolling cooler and instead they get to sit with the moms, and our grown children to hand out candy.  Trey and his buddies are still hanging onto that one little bit of childhood and they decided to go out and see how fast, how far, and how much candy they could get.  Here is a before picture of them:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/Su5Es1BpKeI/AAAAAAAAAHo/bUzQT9891bc/s1600-h/halloween+09+4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/Su5Es1BpKeI/AAAAAAAAAHo/bUzQT9891bc/s320/halloween+09+4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399328540202707426" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sometimes miss the days when these boys would come and play transformers or climb the tree outside for fun.  Now they are into girls and trying to act cool.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is a picture of them ready to go hunting for candy.  You can  see they don't have that cool thing down yet!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/Su5FckD7xSI/AAAAAAAAAHw/lFwJFDVt7qI/s1600-h/halloween+09+3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/Su5FckD7xSI/AAAAAAAAAHw/lFwJFDVt7qI/s320/halloween+09+3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399329360282633506" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those little boogers crack me up sometimes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well my body tells me that this time change stuff is for the birds and even though the clock says it is only 8:30, I'm going to bed anyway! Till next time!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-416796555469277071?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/416796555469277071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/416796555469277071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/11/still-alive-and-well.html' title='Still Alive and Well'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/Su5Es1BpKeI/AAAAAAAAAHo/bUzQT9891bc/s72-c/halloween+09+4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-5372056137202787667</id><published>2009-10-05T14:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-05T15:08:34.383-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Homecoming</title><content type='html'>This weekend was Ciara's last Homecoming  as a student.  Next year if she wants to attend she will have to do so as an alumnus.  I can hardly believe that!  I was gone this weekend on an absolutely awesome retreat, and the only down side to that was the fact that I missed her all prettied up for the dance. Thankfully her big sis came over and took lots of pictures for me.  Here are a few: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SspqDgQKalI/AAAAAAAAAHI/Z80im7x1ww8/s1600-h/IMG_3438.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SspqDgQKalI/AAAAAAAAAHI/Z80im7x1ww8/s320/IMG_3438.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389236512532097618" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here she is with her gigantic mum.  This is only worn to school on the Friday of Homecoming, but she posed with it in the picture. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SspqyvrX3_I/AAAAAAAAAHQ/SaPonfGaG3g/s1600-h/IMG_3436.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SspqyvrX3_I/AAAAAAAAAHQ/SaPonfGaG3g/s320/IMG_3436.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389237324126609394" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Awww aren't these sisters pretty!  Just for the record, I want to thank Savannah for picking out a bridesmaid dress that her sister could actually wear twice!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, here is one of her on the Homecoming float for the last time!   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/Sspr4tGpvPI/AAAAAAAAAHY/Lx-7uTOjnKk/s1600-h/homecoming+09+014.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/Sspr4tGpvPI/AAAAAAAAAHY/Lx-7uTOjnKk/s320/homecoming+09+014.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389238526026562802" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just for good measure and because once you have teenagers it is your duty to embarrass them, here is one of her dressed up for nerd day:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SspsmVWJ3VI/AAAAAAAAAHg/nv6Z1lN_6hA/s1600-h/homecoming+09+036.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SspsmVWJ3VI/AAAAAAAAAHg/nv6Z1lN_6hA/s320/homecoming+09+036.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389239309923114322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without a doubt I'm going to miss these days!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-5372056137202787667?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/5372056137202787667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/5372056137202787667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/10/homecoming.html' title='Homecoming'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SspqDgQKalI/AAAAAAAAAHI/Z80im7x1ww8/s72-c/IMG_3438.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-743861777891806599</id><published>2009-09-20T17:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-27T11:14:15.805-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mall Madness</title><content type='html'>Trey and I went to the mall together last week.  That sounds so inconsequential, but trust me it was a big deal that he asked to go shopping for clothes!  The boy usually follows his dad's fashion advice which is "let the woman in your life buy your clothes, and wear whatever she brings home".  So things must have been desperate for him to initiate a shopping trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With the girls a "shopping trip" is an event that usually involves lunch at the tea room, stops at numerous stores, much trying on, and searching for matching accessories.  I guess it was silly of me to hope that Trey might want to spend the day at the mall with his mom.  My first idea that this was a desperation trip and not a pleasure outing was when we exited our neighborhood and stopped at the gas station.  There were some girls about his age hanging around and he immediately slouched down into the seat.  Since he is a guy and I'm not, it is understood that he is the gas station attendant when he is with me but apparently it is not cool to be seen in a Volvo station wagon with your mom on a Saturday afternoon. ( or at any other time which is why my kids refer to my car as the loser cruiser)  Who knew???  So I spared him the social suicide that he would be committing by pumping my gas and did it myself while he cowered low in his seat.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently my son inherited his fathers shopping prowess because it took us approximately 30 minutes and two stores and we were back in the car with enough clothes to last him the whole school year. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was no tea room, he never came out of the dressing room to ask my opinion, and he was not a bit interested in any matching accessories.  But on the upside I made it home in time to catch the Michigan game so it turned out to be a pretty good afternoon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-743861777891806599?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/743861777891806599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/743861777891806599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/09/mall-madness.html' title='Mall Madness'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-2758000327036527326</id><published>2009-09-16T19:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-17T05:08:10.721-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Parting Is Such Sweet Sorrow</title><content type='html'>I do one healthy thing for my body each morning.  I make a kefir shake with blueberries and flax oil,acai powder, omega 3 fish oil, and any other healthy sounding thing that I can throw in there for good measure. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that I party like a rock star with my BFF's Little Debbie, Frito Bandito, and Twinkie the Kid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sadly Twinkie and I have partied together so much over the past few years, that I'm starting to resemble him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://kalebyates.files.wordpress.com/2008/03/twinkie_the_kid1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 207px; height: 329px;" src="http://kalebyates.files.wordpress.com/2008/03/twinkie_the_kid1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He pulls off the whole western wear thing so much better than I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I've decided that it's time to part ways with my pals and try to find new healthier friends before my family puts me on an episode of Intervention. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So goodbye Deb,Frito and Twinkie!  We had some good times together, but our relationship is not a healthy one.  Please don't take it personally when I pass right by you at the grocery store and pretend I don't even know you.  You see I can't even stop to admire you because I might be tempted to bring you home... and well... we know what that will lead to.  So it's best to just wish you a fond farewell. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I won't forget you..... mostly because the evidence of our trysts lingers on my rear end and jelly belly but non-the-less, it was a good run while it lasted.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-2758000327036527326?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/2758000327036527326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/2758000327036527326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/09/parting-is-such-sweet-sorrow.html' title='Parting Is Such Sweet Sorrow'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-567410169622685086</id><published>2009-09-06T05:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T06:25:20.621-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Some Things Get Better With Age</title><content type='html'>Tomorrow my husband and I will be married for 24 years.  I would love to go back and ask the people at our wedding if they thought we would make it to 24 years.  I'd be willing to bet a number of them would have said no.  But here we are all these years later still hanging in there.  Last night in celebration he took me to a fondue restaurant with some friends.  It was fun and yummy and I recognize the sacrifice on his part because I know he would have preferred a side of beef cooked over a fire and served man-style instead of having to skewer  little tidbits of vegetables and meat and cook them in a pot on the table. So in honor of 24 years, I give you 24  reasons I love my husband not in any particular order.  &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Just a side note, I left out the many "personal" reasons I love him so as not to gross out my children. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  He played a major role in the production of our three terrific children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. He has seen me at my best and my worst and has never made me feel less attractive or desirable to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  He can fix just about anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  He is a talented guitar player.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. I love the way he is passionate about his faith and beliefs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. He is a great artist and can see potential in just about anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. I love how he will help anyone who needs a hand with something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.  He is a great cook.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.  I love how he loves our country and never fails to thank our military personnel for their service.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10.  I love the logical side of him.  It offsets my irrational side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. He sometimes rubs my feet after a long day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. He always gives people the benefit of the doubt when I tend to question motives and reasons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13.  He can keep his cool in stressful situations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. He has patience when teaching someone something new.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15.  I love how he doesn't gross out when having to do yucky stuff like burying dead animals or playing doctor to a hurt dog. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16.  He never complains that the house is messy but will tell me it looks good when I  have spent the day cleaning it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17.  He is a loyal friend,brother,son etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18.  I love how he is quick to forgive and never holds a grudge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19.  He has wicked-mad computer skills. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. I love how he makes me laugh. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21.  He is an awesome dad and loves our children more than life itself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. I love how he loves to be home with his family.  He rarely if ever goes out after work or on weekends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. I love how I can volunteer him to do things and make things for church and school and he never complains about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24.  I love how he has stuck with me and put up with my stuff for the last 24 years!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could have written many more reasons, but I will save them for the next anniversary post. Here is a wedding picture of us.  Remember it was the 80's so you must excuse the fashion choices,  and for the record, P had a much more pronounced mullet, but he photo-shopped a majority of it off!  That is totally not fair because he should have photo-shopped that flying saucer off of my head while he was at it!!!  I love you honey!  Happy Anniversary!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SqOx_Gr4XcI/AAAAAAAAAHA/Jn4ySw9PIeQ/s1600-h/scan0013a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 298px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SqOx_Gr4XcI/AAAAAAAAAHA/Jn4ySw9PIeQ/s320/scan0013a.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378338077695040962" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-567410169622685086?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/567410169622685086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=567410169622685086&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/567410169622685086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/567410169622685086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/09/some-things-get-better-with-age.html' title='Some Things Get Better With Age'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SqOx_Gr4XcI/AAAAAAAAAHA/Jn4ySw9PIeQ/s72-c/scan0013a.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-7935689834833248803</id><published>2009-08-25T15:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-25T16:32:02.779-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What If?</title><content type='html'>The weeks leading up to the start of school are pretty busy around here.  There are  supplies to buy, school open houses to attend, haircuts to get, and new clothes to buy.  For me it also means time for my yearly well woman check up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know the one that we girls always look forward to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After my appointment as I was leaving the doctor's office the receptionist told me that if everything came back alright I would get an automated call with the test results but if there was a problem they would call me from the office.  Yesterday I glanced at my seldom used cell phone and I had a voice mail from the doctors office asking me to please call them about my tests.  Immediately I knew that something was not right but of course by the time I got the message the office was already closed.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rational person in me kept saying that these things are common and often nothing to worry about but the irrational worrisome person in me kept making my thoughts turn to the "what-ifs".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next fifteen hours were spent dwelling on the "what-ifs" When I called the doctor first thing the next morning I was told that while the results were abnormal they didn't feel that it was due to anything major and for me to come back in for a recheck in six months.  Suddenly the "what-ifs" evaporated and I was able to breathe a sigh of relief.  Then I thought about all of the women that get that same call but with different results and instead of  being able to be thankful and relax, the "what-ifs" become their reality.  I found myself saying a prayer for those unknown women who are suddenly dealing with that unwanted news.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the next six months I will be able to go about my everyday life and not have to give those test results a second thought.  Some women are not that fortunate.  For them those test results have changed their lives forever.  I will never meet them face to face, but I will keep them in my prayers with the understanding that one day I may be confronting those "what-ifs".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-7935689834833248803?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/7935689834833248803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=7935689834833248803&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/7935689834833248803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/7935689834833248803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/08/what-if.html' title='What If?'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-840164937195470166</id><published>2009-08-22T04:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T05:35:59.813-07:00</updated><title type='text'>School Days</title><content type='html'>I remember that August of 1992.  She was starting Kindergarten and although it is an inevitable right of passage that she had to take that didn't make it any easier for her mommy who now had to share her with the world.  I couldn't even go outside to watch her get on that bus.  A friend had to take pictures for me while I watched through a window sobbing as she drove away.  Everyone told me that she would  be fine, and of course she was but sending her out into the big bad world that day was the hardest thing I had ever done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In August of 1999 she was starting seventh grade.  That age is hard for anyone but add to that the fact that we had moved that summer and she was starting a brand new school and suffice to say we were all stressed about school starting.  This time I was able to watch her drive off but tears of worry came when I was safely hidden in my home.  Deep down I knew it would all be alright but it was a long anxious day as I waited for her to come home so I could hear all about it.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This past Friday I went to visit her after her busy week of teacher orientation, room set up and lesson planning.  This time it was her turn to cry from frustration, information overload, and anticipation.  Again I know deep down inside it will be alright.  But I  have a feeling tomorrow will be an anxious day as I wait to hear all about it.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; There might even be a few tears shed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Savannah you will do a great job! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SpHW0iHmDcI/AAAAAAAAAGw/peaz-h6yhEU/s1600-h/Sav+Classroom.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SpHW0iHmDcI/AAAAAAAAAGw/peaz-h6yhEU/s320/Sav+Classroom.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373312028429913538" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SpHXieeNufI/AAAAAAAAAG4/TYTxmSy2fb4/s1600-h/Sav+classroom+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SpHXieeNufI/AAAAAAAAAG4/TYTxmSy2fb4/s320/Sav+classroom+2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373312817725028850" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-840164937195470166?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/840164937195470166/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=840164937195470166&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/840164937195470166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/840164937195470166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/08/school-days.html' title='School Days'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SpHW0iHmDcI/AAAAAAAAAGw/peaz-h6yhEU/s72-c/Sav+Classroom.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-4241758901530376160</id><published>2009-08-09T07:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-10T05:46:05.633-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Call Me Cleopatra Queen of Denial</title><content type='html'>A couple of weeks ago Savannah was visiting and she logged on to show us the cute little e-card that Greg had sent her.  Oh Newlyweds!  It was cute and had a silly song that all of us are still walking around the house singing.  Anyway a couple of days later I opened my e-mail and found that my husband had sent me something as well!  How sweet!   It  was entitled Info for you..   hmmm could it be a " Just wanted to tell you I love you" or "You are the best wife in the world".  Nope. It was a link to an article that was entitled &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;"Peri menopause - The Beginning Of Hormone Change"&lt;/span&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry ladies, this Mr. Romance is all mine!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what if I recently brought another fan into our room because I can't seem to get cool at night. Big deal if I only have a couple of pairs of pants left in my closet that I don't have to unbutton to sit down comfortably.  I don't have mood swings, it is just that everyone else acts in irritating ways. None of these could possibly point to me being Peri-menopausal.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I read the article anyway. Not because I think it applies to me, but because I have some friends that are older than I am and I want to be supportive when they go through these changes.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was actually quite informative and I decided to get a few books on the subject for when that time comes.  So I spent a good portion of last week reading up on bio identical hormones and supplements and such.  The irony was that I consumed half a bag of Hershey's Kisses while doing so. Strange how not one of those book talked about the healing powers of Hershey's Kisses for Pre- Pre -Pre -Peri-menopausal women!   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh I know my husband loves me and is just looking out for my health ( and his well being)  so I didn't get upset about the very unromantic e-mail.  But just remember honey Peri-menopause is just a preview of the real thing!  You might want to look into a hobby that takes you out of the house a lot, and while your at it buy a few shares of stock in Hershey.  I have a feeling their profits are going to go up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-4241758901530376160?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/4241758901530376160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=4241758901530376160&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/4241758901530376160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/4241758901530376160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/08/just-call-me-cleopatra-queen-of-denial.html' title='Just Call Me Cleopatra Queen of Denial'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-4162524347184581647</id><published>2009-08-03T19:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-04T08:34:44.580-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Birthdays Past and Future</title><content type='html'>I had a birthday this weekend.  It made me think of my past birthdays.  Of course I don't remember all of them, but some I do remember.  A few I can't figure out why I remember them because they weren't really that monumental but I guess they just made an impression on me.  Come take a walk down memory lane with me.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In 1975 I turned ten years old.  I got three albums that year!  I no longer  had to use my siblings albums when they weren't looking because now I had my own.  I remember I got Toys In The Attic by Aerosmith, Welcome To My Nightmare by Alice Cooper, and Venus and Mars by Wings.  I was ten years old people!  What were my parents thinking?????  Alice Cooper, Aerosmith, ten years old!!!! Maybe that is why that birthday sticks out in my mind because even then I knew I wasn't supposed to be listening to that stuff....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In 1981 I turned sixteen.  I was still basking in the glow of watching Diana Spencer marry her real live Prince and become a princess a few days earlier.  All was right in the world - fairy tales do come true and I was getting my drivers license!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I turned twenty I was planning my wedding that was going to take place one month later.  I don't remember how I spent that birthday except that I'm sure I did something wedding related.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My thirtieth birthday was spent lying in a hospital bed crying my eyes out all day long.  I suppose it had a little to do with turning thirty and a lot to do with the fact I had had my third child the day before and I was very hormonally imbalanced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My fortieth birthday celebration lasted a couple of days and involved beautiful beaches, dolphins and spending a couple of nights in George Bush's bed.  Just writing that makes me laugh because it sounds so decadent.  For the record, nobody even remotely related to the Bush family was in the bed while I was in it.  So National Enquirer reporters stay away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometime after my fortieth birthday I realized that I had probably celebrated more birthdays than I will celebrate in the future.  Not exactly a happy thought, but it put things in perspective.  Now instead of expecting elaborate gifts or parties, just time spent with friends and family is the perfect way to celebrate the beginning of a new year in my life.  That's why my forty-fourth birthday was great.  Family, good food, good friends... what more could a girl want?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here's a little nugget of wisdom for future generations to take away from this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Whether your birthday is spent in a hospital bed or a presidents bed, if your family and friends are with you it's all good. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope Hallmark gives me credit when they use that quote in a birthday card!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-4162524347184581647?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/4162524347184581647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=4162524347184581647&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/4162524347184581647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/4162524347184581647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/08/birthdays-past-and-future.html' title='Birthdays Past and Future'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-6320619848756019508</id><published>2009-07-31T07:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-31T15:26:36.779-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Letter To My Son On His Birthday</title><content type='html'>My son does not read my blog, nor has he ever expressed an interest in reading it, so I know he will not see this on his birthday.  I hope that one day in the distant future he will read it and appreciate it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Trey,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Has it really been fourteen years since you came into our lives?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll save you the details of the long and painful labor and delivery that brought you into this world  ( but you will hear them one day.. count on that) and just tell you how very blessed we have been since the day God gave you to us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the age of fourteen you are on the cusp between boyhood and becoming a man.  I can hear  it in the way your voice is changing and I can see it in the way that suddenly you are taller than me. Right now it is so important to you to fit in and be accepted by your peers. The part of you that is becoming a young man tries so hard to play it cool.  No longer is it acceptable to hug your mom and tell her that you love her - that's okay, she knows. Girls have become interesting to you, and I no longer have to remind you to take care of your personal hygiene.  I wondered if that day would ever come! But sometimes that part of you that is still clinging to boyhood comes out and I welcome it because I know it is just a matter of time before that little boy is all but gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what the future holds for you, but I know who holds your future and I pray daily that you will know that too. In your lifetime you will be faced with both joy and challenges.  There will be times when you feel that life can't possibly get better and all is right in the world, and there are going to be times when you will be faced with things that will  have you doubting yourself, humanity, and your faith.  All I can tell you to prepare  you for those times is to persevere.  When you doubt yourself, know that there are people in this world that see your infinite potential and that wholeheartedly believe in you.  When you doubt humanity remember that we can't control other people but we can control how we react to them and that in the end good will always triumph over evil.  And when you doubt your faith just know that even when we don't feel him, God is always with us. He loves you too much to leave you and even though there are things in this life that we will never understand this side of heaven, all things work together for our good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So as you start your fourteenth year on this earth I hope it will be filled with great memories and few trials. But most importantly, remember that your family loves you no matter what and we will always be here for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Birthday Trey!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-6320619848756019508?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/6320619848756019508/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=6320619848756019508&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/6320619848756019508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/6320619848756019508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/07/letter-to-my-son-on-his-birthday.html' title='A Letter To My Son On His Birthday'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-3906529938420178149</id><published>2009-07-26T05:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-26T05:16:44.520-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Grading on a Curve is Good</title><content type='html'>God bless my African professor who speaks minimal English and grades on a generous curve!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I passed my test. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; One down two to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I will never have to think about Geology again. Unless I happen to be gem shopping.  Which would be a good thing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-3906529938420178149?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/3906529938420178149/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=3906529938420178149&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/3906529938420178149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/3906529938420178149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/07/grading-on-curve-is-good.html' title='Grading on a Curve is Good'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-8413238662077293968</id><published>2009-07-21T07:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-21T07:53:54.010-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Adventures of a College Coed</title><content type='html'>Just in case you are interested, the Geology test that I was so worried about was infinitely harder than I even imagined!!!!  No grade  yet but I'm not very optimistic about it.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After he gave us the written part he sent the class out of the room so he could set up the lab portion of the test.  I felt better after commiserating with the rest of the class in the hall because apparently the test was difficult for everyone.  Even my sweet little lab partner whose brain cells are half the age of mine. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My poor lab partner.  I'm sure when she signed up for this class she envisioned having a cute, young, male, student to help her classify rocks and minerals.  Instead she got me. She did however invite me to her really cool twenty first birthday party.  There was going to be a keg and everything!!!  I told her how fun it would be because I could exchange recipes with her mother.  I swear to you when I said that to her she looked at me like I had just shot a booger at her or something.  She said in a very repulsed tone "How old ARE you?????"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought about lying..... but it was too late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told her I was about to be forty-four and reminded her that forty is the new thirty. She said "Wow I would have guessed thirty-five"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OMG!  I truly considered giving her a big kiss for saying that. But I figured that would get me uninvited from the really cool keg party.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, Okay, big deal she guessed my age slightly younger than it actually is.  If you are under the age of forty that probably means nothing to you, but at this season of my life I will take a compliment where ever I can get one.  Besides I'm sure she really meant it and she wasn't just saying it to suck up to me because I'm the one who copies the notes off of the board while she plays with her I-Phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately the really cool keg party starts right about the time that I'm already in bed watching the news so that means I won't be able to make it.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's really too bad because I could use some new recipes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-8413238662077293968?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/8413238662077293968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=8413238662077293968&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/8413238662077293968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/8413238662077293968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/07/adventures-of-college-coed.html' title='Adventures of a College Coed'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-488606506362176065</id><published>2009-07-16T19:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-16T19:12:44.626-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>My oldest daughter Savannah has become a domestic diva.  She has taken to being a wife and keeper of the home like a duck to water.  On her blog she always post her wonderful finds and money saving tricks.  So today we went shopping together and she helped me save some moolah too!  We didn't set out to go to the grocery store but on the way home we decided to stop and since she is a coupon queen, she had her big binder of coupons in her car so she shared some and this is what I came home with:  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/Sl_cPLj6HVI/AAAAAAAAAGo/ubffdULD5uU/s1600-h/Chickfila+018.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/Sl_cPLj6HVI/AAAAAAAAAGo/ubffdULD5uU/s320/Chickfila+018.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359244234953727314" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I brought home two packages of cookies, two bags of sugar, a gogurt, toothpaste, twenty packages of kool-aid, five vitamin waters, a bottle of hand soap, a deodorant, and a body spray for $11.01.  Not bad for a novice.  It really is fun to see how much you can get for just a little bit of money.  Ciara was with us and she enjoyed watching the savings as well.  She decided she is definitely going to coupon when she goes to college.  I don't know if I will ever become an expert like Savannah, but it sure was fun shopping, saving, and hanging out with my girls.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-488606506362176065?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/488606506362176065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=488606506362176065&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/488606506362176065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/488606506362176065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/07/my-oldest-daughter-savannah-has-become.html' title=''/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/Sl_cPLj6HVI/AAAAAAAAAGo/ubffdULD5uU/s72-c/Chickfila+018.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-5845368903799150450</id><published>2009-07-08T14:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T06:44:44.098-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Allow Me A Moment On My Soap Box</title><content type='html'>I feel a rant coming on.  The past few days of the coverage of the whole Michael Jackson circus has finally gotten to me.It is all over the television, radio, Internet and the papers.  Enough is Enough!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just in case you are interested here is my take on the whole thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes it is sad that he died.  It is especially sad because he left three young children without a father.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes he was immensely talented.  I, like most other people who came of age in the eighties, grew up listening to his music.  There are some songs that will forever remind me of my high school days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes in many ways his life was tragic.  He was used by family and so called friends all of his life and in reading about the show that was put on as a funeral, he was even used in death for people to promote their own self interests.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But he was not a God.  In fact he was downright kooky and by all accounts a pervert that hurt children in ways that they will never recover from.  It sickens me that those things were conveniently swept under the rug as the public elevated him to a "Divine Being" status. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are two particularly saddening results of all of this.  His children being one.  What sad lives they have already had and it doesn't look like it will get better for them.  First their mother gladly washes her hands of them for a price.  Then they are raised in who knows what kind of environment, and now they are thrust into the spotlight and will undoubtedly be fought over if there is a chance that a nice inheritance is connected to them.  Certainly  their paternity and upbringing will be called into question.  They will probably hear things about their father and themselves that no child should have to be exposed to.  Most likely they will inherit their fathers legacy of being used by "well meaning" people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But as a Christian, the most disheartening part of all of this to me is what now for Michael? Where is he spending eternity? Contrary to what Brooke Shields may think, he is not sitting on some crescent moon somewhere looking down on the world like a magical fairy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I can hear some people now.  " Oh please, if God is so good surely he would welcome someone as caring as MJ with open arms"  or "How can you sit in judgement of someone else?"  Let me just say I don't know where MJ is now.  Only God knew his heart and who knows what happened in the final moments of his life.  God's forgiveness is available to anyone who asks and believes.  The account of the criminal on the cross next to Jesus shows that.  But there is a good possibility that forgiveness was not sought.  Perhaps he didn't believe in all that "God Stuff".  How sad for him if he didn't because here is what I know:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  We are all going to die and we will all be held accountable for how we chose to live our lives here on earth.  God is not impressed by what type of cars, clothes, jobs, houses or any other material things we have.  He is only concerned with the heart of humanity.  Not perfection.  That is impossible for us.  But a faithful, believing heart that is inside a person who is trying to be the best that they can be to God's glory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are all given different lives to live.  Some have money, fame, and notoriety.  Some have very little and strive to make it through another day.   Most of us fall in between the two.  But in the end we will all face our creator and we will either hear; "Well done good and faithful one" or " You knew me not".  I don't want to be on my death bed one day wondering what I will hear on the other side. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm stepping off my soap box now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-5845368903799150450?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/5845368903799150450/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=5845368903799150450&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/5845368903799150450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/5845368903799150450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/07/allow-me-moment-on-my-soap-box.html' title='Allow Me A Moment On My Soap Box'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-736535710576449746</id><published>2009-07-04T17:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-04T17:32:46.363-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Summer Daze</title><content type='html'>I woke up this morning and said yay!  It's Independence Day!  Then I realized that my summer is almost half over.  If you are a teacher you know that feeling. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realized that I have not gotten any of what I had planned on doing done at all.  On the last day of school I told myself I would "just take a week off" and then I would tackle my to-do list.  My list consisted of closet cleaning, bedroom organizing, kitchen remodeling, serious dieting, lots of book reading, and some margarita sipping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My "week off" turned into five weeks off.  So far the only thing I have managed to do on my list is some margarita sipping.  The closets are still busting at the seams, the bedroom organization and kitchen remodeling are bigger than I had anticipated, the diet.... Ha Ha... and the book reading has been minimal.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I've decided with my remaining six weeks of summer vacation I will simplify and focus on just a couple of things on the list. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmmm what ever will I choose???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You guessed it. Since I have already invested a little time in margarita sipping and a just a bit in book reading, I think I will stay focused on those two things until I have them perfected.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-736535710576449746?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/736535710576449746/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=736535710576449746&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/736535710576449746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/736535710576449746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/07/summer-daze.html' title='Summer Daze'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-8481474038052914446</id><published>2009-06-27T10:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-27T13:54:29.531-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Its Hot And My Brain Is Melting</title><content type='html'>Well the boy made it home from camp... Other than the fact he came home with hot pink fingernails, I have every reason to believe he had a fun spiritually enriching week. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did make it into his room to clean and I lived to tell about it. The best part of cleaning out a long neglected closet is rediscovering long lost treasure.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We rediscovered the marshmallow gun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since it is too hot to even breathe outside we spent the morning shooting marshmallows at our dogs.  Because really, watching mini marshmallows bounce off of your dogs heads while they try to catch them in their mouths just never gets old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We need to get out more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't worry!  We really do love our dogs and believe me they enjoyed being pelted with marshmallows every bit as much as we enjoyed doing it.  A good time was had by all. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since my brain is melting do to this ungodly heat, and I'm on the topic of dogs, I came across this picture and I actually laughed out loud. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SkZz2p-kE0I/AAAAAAAAAGg/HgJRe_QY1n8/s1600-h/peewee.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 319px; height: 273px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SkZz2p-kE0I/AAAAAAAAAGg/HgJRe_QY1n8/s320/peewee.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352092589994808130" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His name is Pee Wee and surprise, surprise he won the ugliest dog contest a few years back.  The owner actually paid $1000.00 for him at a pet store!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think we should just do away with the Miss USA contest and have The Ugliest Dog contest.  I guarantee the ratings would go back up and I can promise you Pee Wee has never had any controversial augmentations and he has absolutely no opinion on gay marriage.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have already sent Donald Trump a letter outlining my proposal.  I'll let you know when I hear back from him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-8481474038052914446?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/8481474038052914446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=8481474038052914446&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/8481474038052914446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/8481474038052914446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/06/its-hot-and-my-brain-is-melting.html' title='Its Hot And My Brain Is Melting'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SkZz2p-kE0I/AAAAAAAAAGg/HgJRe_QY1n8/s72-c/peewee.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-4535489344185646277</id><published>2009-06-22T05:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-22T12:45:50.477-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Every Boy Needs a Ditch to Play In</title><content type='html'>My baby boy left for church camp yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Can I get an Amen to that????&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My plans are to venture into his room and give it a good cleaning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I hope my haz-mat suit gets here soon.  I'm more than a little apprehensive about what I might find.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the up side, I will probably get some good sleep this week because his neighborhood comrades will not be going  with him and I'm pretty sure there is not a bayou to play in at camp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is just something about a big ditch that is muddy, smelly, and has who knows what  living in it that makes it irresistible to young boys. This being Houston we have a lot of bayous in our area, and anytime Trey says he is going to "hang out" with his friends it's pretty much a guarantee they are going to make their way to the bayou. When he gets home the drill is - go straight into the shower and then bring me the stinky  clothes.  After he is clean the conversation will usually come around to him telling us what type of fun he had in the mud and muck. Here is a partial list of things he has done at the bayou through the years:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peed on a snake. - That was a proud mama moment. &lt;br /&gt;Fished a bike out of the mud because he was sure he it was a fixer-upper. -  It wasn't.&lt;br /&gt;Had mud fights. - I love my washing machine.&lt;br /&gt;Found a cat's skeleton. - Lovely&lt;br /&gt;Found matches and burned stuff. - OMG!&lt;br /&gt;Skateboarded in his underwear in the bayou.  OMG! Again!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lest I ruin my June Cleaver image and have you think that there are no governing rules about the bayou, I have to clarify that there are certain times when it is off limits and the boys know it.  Like when we had  Hurricane Ike and the bayou was actually doing what it was designed to do, keeping flood waters out of Houston, the boys were not allowed to go near it. But most of the time there is little or no water in it and it is relatively safe to go around it.  Well at least that is what I tell my self but "safe" might be too strong of a word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So when he came home from "hanging out" on Friday, after he took a shower and brought me the usual stinky  clothes to be washed, he told me that he and the guys came up with a great new game called "Nutball"  Remember the ages of these boys..... the name Nutball should be taken literally. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The gist of the game was to take pears off of a nearby tree and try to hit the other opponents in their.... well.... Nutballs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Lord help me I will never understand boys!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I asked him how a game like that could possibly be fun, he told me it was a lot of fun as long as you were winning..... that made sense.  In the end he was able to walk home and I didn't get any calls from the other moms stating they had to make a trip to the ER, so I guess the game ended alright. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I dropped him off yesterday I told the youth pastor that I hoped there would be a lot of bible reading, hymn singing and time for quiet introspection at camp this week.  I also told her not to let Trey be in charge of games.  I don't think that church camp is ready for a rousing game of Nutball.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-4535489344185646277?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/4535489344185646277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=4535489344185646277&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/4535489344185646277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/4535489344185646277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/06/every-boy-needs-ditch-to-play-in.html' title='Every Boy Needs a Ditch to Play In'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-5869649004758856969</id><published>2009-06-21T06:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-21T06:36:58.440-07:00</updated><title type='text'>HAPPY FATHERS DAY TO MY HUSBAND!</title><content type='html'>Since we like to cling to our guns and religion down here in the south, I gave him a gift certificate to get his concealed handgun license, and now we are getting ready to go to church!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you honey!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are a great dad!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-5869649004758856969?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/5869649004758856969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=5869649004758856969&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/5869649004758856969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/5869649004758856969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/06/happy-fathers-day-to-my-husband.html' title='HAPPY FATHERS DAY TO MY HUSBAND!'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-7104557369556937367</id><published>2009-06-14T15:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-15T12:18:35.346-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Forever Your Girl</title><content type='html'>Long before Paula Abdul was a semi-sober judge on American Idol, she used to have a song called "Opposites Attract".  As much as I hate to admit it, I really kind of liked that song. It was the anthem on which my husband and I based our marriage..... Okay not really!!!! But I believe that on some levels it is the opposites in a marriage that are the key to a lasting relationship.  Of course nobody has ever come to me for marital advice, so I could be wrong.  But it seems to work for me and my husband. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is a true country boy at heart.  To him a good day is getting on the tractor in the middle of the Texas summer, and working until the sun goes down.  I  prefer to slather on my SPF 50, sit on my well padded tush in the shade, and read a good book.  He sometimes gets involved in projects around the house and forgets to eat.  I sometimes have so many projects around the house, I eat to forget.  He doesn't like chocolate, I could live on it.  He likes a big juicy steak from some manly restaurant, I like a spinach salad from the tea room.  You get the picture... we are different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So really it didn't surprise me when a few years back we were talking about old televisions shows and he confessed that he used to have a crush on Maryann from Gilligan's Island. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Well of course he did... she was a sweet, pretty country girl that probably enjoyed tractor rides.  I on the other hand wanted to &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;BE&lt;/span&gt; Ginger!  She was always stylish, sophisticated, and oh man those clothes she brought on that three hour tour!  Sure Maryanne looked cute in her short shorts and her occasional gingham dress, but come on, Ginger had the make up, designer gowns, and high heels! In my girlish mind there was absolutely no competition between the two.     &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://qmusings.com/images/Ginger-and-MaryAnn.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 308px;" src="http://qmusings.com/images/Ginger-and-MaryAnn.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Through the years we  have learned to look past our superficial differences, and to appreciate the differences that complement each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  My husband is the logical one when I tend to get emotional.  He thinks things through when I tend to plow in head first and think later. He is a mechanical engineer type, and I don't even know how to use the television remote.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suppose he has come to grips with the fact he started out a Maryann man that married a Ginger wannabe who somehow through the years has  morphed into Mrs. Howell.... minus the millions.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i4.fc-img.com/CTV02/Comcast_CIM_Prod_Fancast_Image/69/569/1201209894950_3449_0067_640_320.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 160px;" src="http://i4.fc-img.com/CTV02/Comcast_CIM_Prod_Fancast_Image/69/569/1201209894950_3449_0067_640_320.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-7104557369556937367?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/7104557369556937367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=7104557369556937367&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/7104557369556937367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/7104557369556937367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/06/forever-your-girl.html' title='Forever Your Girl'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-9161440652230159712</id><published>2009-06-11T04:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-11T04:54:49.325-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Summer Outfit</title><content type='html'>I changed my blog clothes for the summer.  Just like a girl needs a new outfit to make her feel refreshed, I figured my blog could use a little change.  I'm not sure if I like it yet so I'm counting on some feedback.  Be honest and tell me if you think this background makes my blog look big!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-9161440652230159712?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/9161440652230159712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=9161440652230159712&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/9161440652230159712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/9161440652230159712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-summer-outfit.html' title='My Summer Outfit'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-1152392477139425690</id><published>2009-06-07T05:45:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-08T08:36:28.787-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Reason I Have a Secret Stash of Tequila, Chocolate, and Haircolor</title><content type='html'>Summer has finally begun.  The mess in my house and the lack of food in my kitchen prove it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I only have a few more years of marking the start of summer by the last day of school. The sentimental mommy in me gets sad when I think about that, but the stressed out, tired of checking home work and making lunches mom in me is doing a little happy dance in anticipation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The year went smoothly for Ciara and she did well in all of her classes.   Trey on the other hand?   To him school is just a necessary evil until he makes it big as the worlds best skateboarding guitar player.  You gotta love those lofty goals of thirteen year old boys!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh how I love my sweet, laid-back, easy going son. From day one he has made us laugh with his silly antics.  While this go-with-the- flow attitude worked to my advantage when he was a baby, it doesn't work well in a no-nonsense atmosphere like school and when it calls into question my parenting skills, all bets are off. I suppose this school year was destined to be the year that my parenting skills would be put to the test.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For some reason our school district decided that seventh grade was the perfect time for it's students to learn about the "birds and the bee's".  Now I get the whole " kids are so much more mature now and getting into things at an earlier age" thing.  I'm down with that.  See just the fact that I can use such an edgy phrase proves that I'm in the know! But I have to say:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Sex talk + prepubescent boys = someones going to get in trouble.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That someone would be my son.  Here is how the phone conversation went:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Hello?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Trey:&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Ummm Mom?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Yes Trey?????&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Trey:&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Ummm I got in trouble in Science class today. Here's my teacher.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Ms. I can't believe I have to teach sex ed to these kids:&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Mrs. Treys mom,  your son said something very inappropriate in our reproductive class today. I could have him removed for his remarks, but I'm giving him a second chance.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So when I hung up the phone I did what any other mom would do.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; I blamed my husband.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started wondering what he could have possibly said, and where could he possibly have heard it? It had to be from my husband. I remembered the time when he let him watch that Austin Powers movie even though I told him I didn't think it was a good idea, and he takes him to the shooting range, who knows what they talk about out there with all that testosterone in the air!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now my son is quite smart, and he figured that there is no way his mom would freak out in front of his friends, so he brought his whole posse home with him after school that day.  His friends aren't always the sharpest tools in the shed, but when they saw me sitting at the dining room table lying in wait for my victim, they knew it wasn't going to be pretty and they decided it was in their best interest to get out of here.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is how our confrontation went:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I can't believe you did that!!! You are grounded forever!!  You are going to take up quilting and bird watching and you will never watch another Austin Powers movie or go to that shooting range again!! Now tell me what you said!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Trey:&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I told a girl that her pee would turn green if she got pregnant.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;HUH?????&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it's appropriate for us all to stop for a moment and thank the heaven's above that the boy has no aspirations to be an Obstetrician.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, apparently the paper I signed that said there was zero tolerance in the class meant that there was ZERO TOLERANCE in the class!  So when my husband came home and we talked about it and voiced our relief to one another that it was something so silly, we decided he would have to be grounded anyway for breaking the rules in class.  But instead of being grounded for the rest of his life it was only for a weekend, and he ended up getting off early for good behavior.      &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Oh and I cancelled his quilting class.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-1152392477139425690?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/1152392477139425690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=1152392477139425690&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/1152392477139425690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/1152392477139425690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/06/reason-i-have-secret-stash-of-tequila.html' title='The Reason I Have a Secret Stash of Tequila, Chocolate, and Haircolor'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-9123633621190335980</id><published>2009-06-03T06:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T08:01:51.490-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rantings of a Walmart Shopper</title><content type='html'>Many years ago we used to have Kmart's here in Houston.  In fact my first job ever was at Kmart. In the shoe department! And they paid in cash every Friday!  All was right with the world back in those days. But then one day Kmart deemed Houston unworthy of their blue light specials and they closed all of the stores in the area. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I'm still a tad bit bitter about the whole thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fortunately for me Walmart was waiting in the wings with open arms to help me and my money transition through the loss. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took a while for me to get used to Walmart.  After all any adept shopper knows that Walmart and Kmart are like apples and oranges so I had to work hard to adjust.  But like an athlete in training I was diligent and before long it was as if Walmart and I had always known each other. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So imagine my horror when I went to my local Walmart this morning only to discover that they are doing a complete remodel!  Nothing was where it was supposed to be.  I asked one of the employees why they were defiling the store and I was told it was to "update" and "give the feeling of openness" to the store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh Walmart I wish you would have come to me first!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I want to shop at an updated, modern  store I will shop at Target.  I will choose familiarity to trendiness any day of the week.   I take comfort in knowing where everything is in the store.  I look forward to mindlessly wandering down the aisles tossing things into my basket and I  don't want to have to think while I'm shopping.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure millions of dollars where spent on marketing experts to tell Walmart that if they  put the toys closer to the food they would sell a few more Hannah Montana dolls. Or if they move the pharmacy to the middle of the store more people would get their prescriptions filled there. They could have saved a bundle and just consulted with the people that shop there on a regular basis.  I would have told them to forget about the remodel and invest their money in customer service training for their employees. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure I will get over the initial shock and in time I will know the new layout of the store enough so I won't have to exert any brain power to find my way around.  It just takes this old dog some time to learn new tricks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-9123633621190335980?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/9123633621190335980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=9123633621190335980&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/9123633621190335980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/9123633621190335980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/06/rantings-of-walmart-shopper.html' title='Rantings of a Walmart Shopper'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-8061627358728247850</id><published>2009-05-29T14:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-31T05:58:59.066-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Where DOES she get it?????</title><content type='html'>I was the fourth and last child born into my family.  I will admit I was a tad bit spoiled.  I don't know if it was because I was the baby or if my parents were just too tired after having three other children,  but they had a tendency to give into my every whim.   Well maybe not my &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;every &lt;/span&gt; whim, but it's safe to say I got away with a lot of stuff.  I was young enough for this to cause me to  develop a bit of a "princess mentality".  While this is cute in a four year old it's not so cute when it follows you into your teenage years.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On more than one occasion my mother would tell me " I hope when you have children, you have one just like you".  I'm sure she meant it.  In fact I'm sure there were a few rosaries said and candles lit with just that one prayer in mind. When she would say that to me I would agree with her.  I mean, I was &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;always&lt;/span&gt; right, and knew everything about everything, so who wouldn't want a mini-me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fortunately for me God is merciful.  So far my children are infinitely less impetuous in their behavior than I ever was.  Each one is much more sensible and level-headed than I was and they don't attempt nearly the type of antics that I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But my mothers prayers didn't fall on deaf ears and God felt we needed a little bit of nobility in our family so he gave us Ciara.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciara will be the first one to tell you she is a princess.  She delights in that title and just like me when I was younger, she has a tendency to believe she is right more times than she is wrong and she will argue that fact until you believe it as well. Also like me she has a bit of a dramatic flair, and at times she has been known to don quite an "attitude".  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; But underneath that proverbial tiara is a sweet, fun loving, joyful girl that is beautiful from the outside in. She is passionate about her beliefs and disciplined in her studies.   We love every bit of her from the top of her royal head to the tips of her royal toes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It won't be long before she goes out into this big bad world and realizes that not everyone recognizes her for the princess she is. So when I send up my prayers for her, I pray that she remembers that God will always see her as &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;his&lt;/span&gt; princess- no matter what the world might tell her  - oh and that when she has children she has one just like her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SiH7bsmq_RI/AAAAAAAAAGY/clzReS4kPFA/s1600-h/ciara+103.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SiH7bsmq_RI/AAAAAAAAAGY/clzReS4kPFA/s320/ciara+103.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341827086286519570" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-8061627358728247850?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/8061627358728247850/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=8061627358728247850&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/8061627358728247850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/8061627358728247850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/05/where-does-she-get-it.html' title='Where DOES she get it?????'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SiH7bsmq_RI/AAAAAAAAAGY/clzReS4kPFA/s72-c/ciara+103.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-9134828864860610262</id><published>2009-05-27T18:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-27T18:37:57.342-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Little Bit Of This</title><content type='html'>One minute she looked like &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;THIS:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/Sh3mQbwfqOI/AAAAAAAAAFw/64vXSwbPETM/s1600-h/savbaby.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/Sh3mQbwfqOI/AAAAAAAAAFw/64vXSwbPETM/s320/savbaby.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340677903134730466" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then we blinked and &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;THIS&lt;/span&gt; great guy:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/Sh3npIgOtlI/AAAAAAAAAF4/3CEY8f4IS8s/s1600-h/IMG_0009.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/Sh3npIgOtlI/AAAAAAAAAF4/3CEY8f4IS8s/s320/IMG_0009.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340679426974594642" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was giving her &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;THIS&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/Sh3oCyRkUnI/AAAAAAAAAGA/DdGwkMEQUg0/s1600-h/a+019.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/Sh3oCyRkUnI/AAAAAAAAAGA/DdGwkMEQUg0/s320/a+019.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340679867684115058" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So then we got to experience &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;THIS: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/Sh3ot_i59hI/AAAAAAAAAGI/dBAWJchy2cs/s1600-h/email1.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 287px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/Sh3ot_i59hI/AAAAAAAAAGI/dBAWJchy2cs/s320/email1.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340680609980872210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And last week we got to see her do &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;THIS:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/Sh3pd_8FtmI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/gEKmgYPQ2Fw/s1600-h/sav+graduation.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/Sh3pd_8FtmI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/gEKmgYPQ2Fw/s320/sav+graduation.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340681434720220770" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Congratulations Savannah!  We are so proud of you!  You are going to be an awesome teacher!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-9134828864860610262?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/9134828864860610262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=9134828864860610262&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/9134828864860610262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/9134828864860610262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/05/little-bit-of-this.html' title='A Little Bit Of This'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/Sh3mQbwfqOI/AAAAAAAAAFw/64vXSwbPETM/s72-c/savbaby.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-3832640228482683318</id><published>2009-05-26T05:00:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-26T06:06:20.671-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Eating Your Words Doesn't Taste Good, But At Least They Don't Have Any Calories</title><content type='html'>A lot of people in my family like to gamble.  I did not get that gene.  I have been to many casinos from  Canada, Vegas, Mississippi, to Louisiana and gambled in each one, but after losing about ten bucks, I get whiny and eventually the people that I came with ditch me and I spend the rest of my time wandering around watching other people lose their money. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah I know - I'm a real high-roller.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think the reason behind my aversion to gambling is two-fold:  One, I'm very &lt;strike&gt;cheap&lt;/strike&gt; frugal,  and two I just really stink at it. I have the track record to prove it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I once bet my husband that he would never get our then six-year old daughter to go on a helicopter ride. -    &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;He did&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also once bet that the Oilers would go to the Super Bowl  -  &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;They didn't&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Last year I bet that Michigan would surprise everyone and beat Ohio State  - &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Nuff said.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those are just a few examples of a long list of bets that I should have never made through the years. You would think I would  have learned my lesson.  But apparently my blondness trumps all common sense and I find that I have lost yet another bet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you are one of the three people that read this blog, you may remember when I wrote on April 14th that I didn't think I would ever get a Facebook page.  (I would link to that post, but I'm not that blogger savvy, so you will just have to go to my older posts and read it)  Lucky for me I did end that post with a disclaimer of sorts, because I find myself eating my words and I now have a Facebook page.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ironically I don't really even remember the bet.  It was made during a casual conversation on the playground of the school where I teach.  But since &lt;strike&gt;there were witnesses&lt;/strike&gt;  I am a woman of my word, I have fulfilled my end of the bargain and joined the "in" crowd.  Much to the horror of my children I'm sure.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So if you are on Facebook and would like to learn my betting strategies or would like some stock advice, feel free to look me up.  I'm always willing to share my knowledge.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-3832640228482683318?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/3832640228482683318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=3832640228482683318&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/3832640228482683318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/3832640228482683318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/05/eating-your-words-doesnt-taste-good-but.html' title='Eating Your Words Doesn&apos;t Taste Good, But At Least They Don&apos;t Have Any Calories'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-8967482807080377003</id><published>2009-05-23T07:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-23T08:32:00.522-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Trivial Pursuit and Swatch Watches</title><content type='html'>So last night I had a weird dream that I was back in the 80's.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; It could have been the glass of wine I had before retiring for the night. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Nonetheless, the fact that I would dream that I was back in the 80's is just plain strange to me.  I mean here is a picture of me in the 80's:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/ShgG4fjCbfI/AAAAAAAAAFo/MjRBVKc9QPM/s1600-h/08-22-2007+09%3B06%3B28PM.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/ShgG4fjCbfI/AAAAAAAAAFo/MjRBVKc9QPM/s320/08-22-2007+09%3B06%3B28PM.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339024925858622962" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not exactly a fashion trend that my ample middle-aged body needs to revisit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But in it's defense the decade of big hair and shoulder pads did hold some monumental milestones for me. During that time; I moved to the great state of Texas, graduated from high school, met and married my wonderful husband, forged lifelong friendships, had my first child, bought our first house, and experienced many other life shaping events.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My kids enjoy watching  the show "I love the 80"s".  Sometimes I sit down with them to watch it and revisit the days of my youth.  They laugh when I reminisce about parachute pants, leg warmers, and of course all of the cool music of the eighties like Duran Duran, Madonna, Cyndi Lauper, etc.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They seem to have a hard time understanding just how &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;totally awesome&lt;/span&gt; I was in the eighties.  &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt; Like Totally! &lt;/span&gt;  I'm glad I have photographic proof such as the picture above.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess as I age I will enjoy strolling down memory lane more often.  But, if I continue to dream about being back in the 80's I will seek professional help.... or lay off the wine before bedtime.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-8967482807080377003?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/8967482807080377003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=8967482807080377003&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/8967482807080377003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/8967482807080377003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/05/trivial-pursuit-and-swatch-watches.html' title='Trivial Pursuit and Swatch Watches'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/ShgG4fjCbfI/AAAAAAAAAFo/MjRBVKc9QPM/s72-c/08-22-2007+09%3B06%3B28PM.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-7924150398610431212</id><published>2009-05-20T19:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-20T19:18:18.488-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Powerful Video</title><content type='html'>This is probably one of the most powerful videos I have ever watched.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;a href="http://deathisnotdying.com/eventvideo/"&gt;http://deathisnotdying.com/eventvideo/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you have a little bit of time,  I highly encourage you to watch it.  It's about 55 minutes long, but don't be daunted by the length.  Make the time to watch it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-7924150398610431212?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/7924150398610431212/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=7924150398610431212&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/7924150398610431212'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/7924150398610431212'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/05/powerful-video.html' title='Powerful Video'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-8732331709635665631</id><published>2009-05-14T15:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-14T18:19:39.612-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Different Season in Life</title><content type='html'>About a month ago my daughter had us over for the first time as a married woman.   Greg ( my son-in-law) cooked up some yummy burgers on the grill and Savannah did a great job providing the rest of the goodies. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are a few pics:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfzQUc96QjI/AAAAAAAAAEo/yTNGAg2hvPM/s1600-h/ciara+becky+rodoe+(9).jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfzQUc96QjI/AAAAAAAAAEo/yTNGAg2hvPM/s320/ciara+becky+rodoe+(9).jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331365108691649074" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some wonderful lemonade.  Isn't it picture perfect?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfzQteXwtUI/AAAAAAAAAEw/ObFVlf_Q6r4/s1600-h/dinner+with+sav+and+greg.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfzQteXwtUI/AAAAAAAAAEw/ObFVlf_Q6r4/s320/dinner+with+sav+and+greg.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331365538565240130" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really we didn't go to Martha Stewart's house.  It was actually Savannah's house.  I promise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a new experience to be in her house and watching her act as hostess.  Kind of like the "passing of the baton".  I have had a lot of these types of new experiences since she became a wife.  It's strange to be a mother and to not really be "mothering" anymore.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day before she was married we were talking and I asked her what she would miss when she moved out.  Curiously she said she would miss Monday Night Football. During football season, Monday nights have always been my night to actually watch television.  Ever since she was little she and Paul would go into another room to watch something other than football while I would be yelling, jumping, and quite possibly swearing in the living room watching the game.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told her what I would miss the most was our semi-impromptu weekend chats.   For years, on Saturday mornings I would grab a cup of coffee and make my way upstairs to where the kids were still sleeping.  I would open up the blinds in her room, make myself comfortable and just start talking. She would begrudgingly wake up and  eventually Ciara, Trey and the dogs would find their way into the room, plop down on the bed, and we would do a lot of laughing, talking, making up songs etc.   Those times were always the highlight of my week.  Just enjoying my children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, after dinner, the guys went to sit and watch a movie and we girls went in to check out Savannah's cute sewing room.  Eventually, Trey made his way in there and then Greg followed.  We ended up plopped all around the room laughing and talking.  It was different but better because this time  not only was I with my three biological children, I had the blessing of an extra by-marriage child to enjoy.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This being a mother of a married daughter and mother-in-law to a new son thing is going to be pretty fun.  Now if only we could add some grand kids to the mix..................&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just Kidding Savannah. Take your time.......but not too long okay?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-8732331709635665631?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/8732331709635665631/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=8732331709635665631&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/8732331709635665631'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/8732331709635665631'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/05/different-season-in-life.html' title='A Different Season in Life'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfzQUc96QjI/AAAAAAAAAEo/yTNGAg2hvPM/s72-c/ciara+becky+rodoe+(9).jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-8011720937715118991</id><published>2009-05-11T10:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-11T13:26:29.013-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Berry Pickin Time!</title><content type='html'>The dewberries are starting to ripen!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  If you don't know what a dewberry is, it is the country bumpkin cousin of the blackberry.  While blackberries are fancy, and expensive, and come in cute little plastic containers at the grocery store, dewberries grow wild along railroad tracks and in fields.  They aren't fancy or expensive, (free if you don't mind working for them) or come in cute plastic containers ( well ours was cute... it was a leftover Easter bucket), but they are just as yummy as their fancy-shmancy cousin. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So since it is dewberry season I had to gather the family and go get some! I was guaranteed lots of berries because I had convinced my children that berry picking was &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;sooooooo&lt;/span&gt; much fun that they wouldn't want to miss it.  Of course I failed to mention the heat, the stickers on the plants, or the occasional snake that likes to hang out in berry patches, so we set out with high hopes.  I lost one half of my berry picking team when hubs and Trey decided that mowing and doing tractor stuff was much more &lt;strike&gt;manly&lt;/strike&gt;  imperative than filling our buckets with berries.  Here are some pictures of them being &lt;strike&gt;manly&lt;/strike&gt;  productive. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SghwLFHtSaI/AAAAAAAAAE4/8I1c9cBQVn8/s1600-h/paul+pushing+sign+with+tractor.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SghwLFHtSaI/AAAAAAAAAE4/8I1c9cBQVn8/s320/paul+pushing+sign+with+tractor.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334637094275729826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SghxAgyypiI/AAAAAAAAAFA/ns5WSaCEpik/s1600-h/tey+and+dad+cutting+banner.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SghxAgyypiI/AAAAAAAAAFA/ns5WSaCEpik/s320/tey+and+dad+cutting+banner.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334638012237260322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciara and I struck out on our own.  I have to say it was pretty slim pickins!  There were a lot of red ones but not too many ripe ones.  Here is what little we did find.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SghyrwPFDbI/AAAAAAAAAFI/bvriv9CLUhg/s1600-h/a+little+more+berries.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SghyrwPFDbI/AAAAAAAAAFI/bvriv9CLUhg/s320/a+little+more+berries.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334639854628441522" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I may or may not have eaten half of these berries after the picture was taken. Suffice to say we came home with very few berries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, after celebrating Mothers Day at my moms house with all of my wonderful kids, my husband spotted some berry bushes in an undeveloped field on the way home.  And since we had our rubber boots and coffee cans in the back of the car we decided to stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I know......"You might be a redneck if....you keep rubber boots and coffee cans in the back of your car.... Anyhoo.... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We hit the mother load!  Look at all the yummy berries we brought home:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/Sgh0OsVspgI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/XPfbtisdSXw/s1600-h/lots+of+berries.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/Sgh0OsVspgI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/XPfbtisdSXw/s320/lots+of+berries.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334641554389509634" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today I made this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/Sgh2KgZRqII/AAAAAAAAAFY/Aff7OAMkZ7o/s1600-h/jelly+006.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/Sgh2KgZRqII/AAAAAAAAAFY/Aff7OAMkZ7o/s320/jelly+006.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334643681487071362" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dewberry Jelly!  Now before you go and get all impressed with my homemaking skills, this is supposed to be jelly, but it is more like dewberry syrup.  It looks like I will have to re-do this batch to make it into jelly.  I hate it when that happens!   Oh well, there are still a few more weeks of dewberry season we will just have to go out and get some more.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh this last picture is specifically for my sister-in-law.  Debbie I know you live in a parallel universe that doesn't get high speed Internet, but I hope you can get this picture.  Remember those grape vines you guys planted all those years ago?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/Sgh4QBjiv9I/AAAAAAAAAFg/X4FZM6LDSd8/s1600-h/grapes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/Sgh4QBjiv9I/AAAAAAAAAFg/X4FZM6LDSd8/s320/grapes.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334645975311106002" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look Grapes!!! The vines look pretty pitiful, and I don't think  we will be having a grape stomp anytime soon, but I thought they were pretty cool!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-8011720937715118991?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/8011720937715118991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=8011720937715118991&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/8011720937715118991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/8011720937715118991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/05/its-berry-picken-time.html' title='It&apos;s Berry Pickin Time!'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SghwLFHtSaI/AAAAAAAAAE4/8I1c9cBQVn8/s72-c/paul+pushing+sign+with+tractor.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-5194808324439091848</id><published>2009-05-07T13:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-07T14:09:51.957-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Saddened Yet Inspired</title><content type='html'>Today we attended a funeral for an elderly gentleman in our church.  Darrell was a gentle, unassuming man who befriended everyone he met.  He was a greeter at our church and just this past Sunday he was there with his big smile and his friendly "Good Morning".  He died later that evening in his sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the funeral  they asked people to come up and speak about how this man had impacted their lives.  The stories were  as varied as the people that spoke,  but the one thing that everyone remembered the most was Darrell's love.  His love for his family, church, friends, and country.  But most importantly was his obvious love for God.  He lived his life each day with one purpose: to reflect God in all that he did, and  he did an awesome job of it.  How comforting for his family to hear how much he touched  everyone he came in contact with.  Even those who had only know him for a little while.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suppose it is natural to reflect on your own life when you attend a funeral.  After all death is an undeniable fact of life for all of us.  But mixed in with the heavy sadness I felt today was a little bit of inspiration.  Inspiration to be a better wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend and most importantly a better reflection of God's love.  Not so someone will have something nice to say about me at my own funeral, but so that maybe something in the way I loved will have a positive impact on someone else's life. Just as Darrell's love did for so many. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know he was not perfect, and I also know he would be the first person to point that out.   In fact someone said that Darrell always felt like he could do more:    Love more, give more, pray more, be God's hands and feet more.   Wouldn't it be wonderful if we would all strive to do those things more? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Going into church this Sunday will be sad for everyone.  Darrell won't be there with his big smile and his "Good Morning!"  But because he spent his lifetime  mirroring God's love, we can all rest in the knowledge that he will  be up in Heaven ready to greet us when our time comes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning"&lt;/span&gt;  Psalm 30:5&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-5194808324439091848?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/5194808324439091848/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=5194808324439091848&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/5194808324439091848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/5194808324439091848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/05/saddened-yet-inspired.html' title='Saddened Yet Inspired'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-1775659880525401278</id><published>2009-05-02T10:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-02T15:55:43.067-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Crawfish!!!</title><content type='html'>Wow my blog has been neglected this week!  The end of the school year is always busy for me and I have been working on our yearbooks so I haven't had time to post.    Well that,  and this week was particularly uneventful so there wasn't too much to post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We did have fun last week at a crawfish boil!  Here are a few pics:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfyGYiLJMnI/AAAAAAAAAD4/-emTZK2HC6k/s1600-h/garagesalecrawfishboil+020.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfyGYiLJMnI/AAAAAAAAAD4/-emTZK2HC6k/s320/garagesalecrawfishboil+020.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331283814948352626" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is just something about a pile of boiled crawfish in the middle of a picnic table covered with newspapers that turns the average person into a pseudo-savage!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfyHq8sUZuI/AAAAAAAAAEA/RpbGY5YaYfw/s1600-h/garagesalecrawfishboil+016.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfyHq8sUZuI/AAAAAAAAAEA/RpbGY5YaYfw/s320/garagesalecrawfishboil+016.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331285230816093922" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfyH2_Kv7sI/AAAAAAAAAEI/3X8c1TA0nxg/s1600-h/garagesalecrawfishboil+014.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfyH2_Kv7sI/AAAAAAAAAEI/3X8c1TA0nxg/s320/garagesalecrawfishboil+014.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331285437639028418" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Studies have shown that early introduction to crawfish peeling/eating helps with brain development, speech skills and problem solving skills. .......Okay...... I made that up, but the kids seemed to enjoy it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfyKAYDBFBI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/UePf2AY4xOM/s1600-h/garagesalecrawfishboil+017.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfyKAYDBFBI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/UePf2AY4xOM/s320/garagesalecrawfishboil+017.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331287797959562258" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jennifer auditioning for the Louisiana Office of Tourism..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfyK1LW66YI/AAAAAAAAAEg/VOiFoV-DKog/s1600-h/garagesalecrawfishboil+023.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfyK1LW66YI/AAAAAAAAAEg/VOiFoV-DKog/s320/garagesalecrawfishboil+023.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331288705086450050" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This picture  was taken just before PETA raided the place and shut it down. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing you will not see in these pictures is me partaking  in the feast. Prior to meeting my husband, I had never heard of crawfish, let alone participated in a crawfish boil.  Since my husband is Cajun and has been eating crawfish since he got his first baby tooth, we have been to quite a few crawfish boils through the years.  Back when we were dating he used to peel them for me so I wouldn't have to get my hands dirty.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Awwwwwww isn't that sweet?&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Now that we have been married for almost 24 years, it's every man for himself when we go to these things, and since I'm much too lazy to work that hard for my food, I was content to walk around sipping sangria and snapping pictures. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; All in all it was a lot of fun. I left with clean hands and my husband left with a full belly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-1775659880525401278?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/1775659880525401278/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=1775659880525401278&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/1775659880525401278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/1775659880525401278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/05/crawfish.html' title='Crawfish!!!'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfyGYiLJMnI/AAAAAAAAAD4/-emTZK2HC6k/s72-c/garagesalecrawfishboil+020.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-4780129140932442718</id><published>2009-04-27T04:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-27T13:00:04.808-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You Can Take The Girl Out Of The Garage Sale But You Can't Take The Garage Sale Out Of The Girl</title><content type='html'>There are certain firsts in life that you never forget.   You know... your first date, first kiss, first dance, etc....   But for me right up there with those fond memories is the memory of my first garage sale.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must have been around seven or eight years old.  I rode my bike down the street to have a look around, and when I saw &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;it&lt;/span&gt; I knew I had to have &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;it&lt;/span&gt;.  It was the most beautiful purple and black saloon girl dance costume I had ever seen.  It was decked out with fringe and rhinestones, and it even came with fishnets and a headband!  Even at my young age I knew that every second counts when it comes to garage sales, so I pedaled home as fast as I could to get my money lest someone snatch up that gem of a find before I got back!  The funny thing is I remember taking the costume home, but I don't remember ever actually wearing it.  Looking back I'm sure my mother was horrified to see her daughter come home with apparel  that &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;reeked of harlotry&lt;/span&gt;.  Chances are it conveniently "got lost" before word of it's existence made it  back to the nuns at my school.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The excitement of finding "that perfect thing" at a great price has stuck with me all these years.  While my husband would probably be thrilled if I brought home a purple saloon girl costume with fishnets and a headband, my garage sale tastes have become much more practical.  I now get excited over slightly used waffle irons or salad spinners that I can pick up for pennies on the dollar.  But unfortunately a person can only buy so many "perfect things"  before they run out of space in their home.  Then they have to purge their home and have their own garage sale.  You know it is kind of like the circle of life.....but not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  As fate would have it, a garage sale lovin girl like me ended up in a neighborhood that did not allow garage sales.  &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;What?????&lt;/span&gt;  Apparently garage sales invite riffraff  into the area.  What the Powers that Be couldn't see was that the riffraff was slowly infiltrating the neighborhood and they were living amongst them.  So since our community board of directors is run by benevolent dictators, they agreed to give us peasants one day a year in which to indulge in our common foolery.  So this past Saturday was our annual Neighborhood garage sale!  WHOO HOO!  Here are some pictures:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfW3MIJgGQI/AAAAAAAAADA/iKm1ZiffYgU/s1600-h/garagesalecrawfishboil+011.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfW3MIJgGQI/AAAAAAAAADA/iKm1ZiffYgU/s320/garagesalecrawfishboil+011.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329367153036499202" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good-bye my beautiful books.  I will never forget our hours spent together, but my husband does not understand our love affair and he says you must go...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfW4VI4EjFI/AAAAAAAAADI/kZpN58mk1fo/s1600-h/garagesalecrawfishboil+013.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfW4VI4EjFI/AAAAAAAAADI/kZpN58mk1fo/s320/garagesalecrawfishboil+013.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329368407362276434" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lovely Robin strategically displaying a couple of cute dresses.  I decided if I were to plan my wedding all over again I would have my bridesmaids buy their dresses at garage sales or thrift stores.  Of course they wouldn't match, but wouldn't it be fun to see what they would come up with? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We started setting up our sale at 6:00am because any seasoned garage sale expert knows that you have to get an early start. We snickered when the neighbors across the street started pulling &lt;strike&gt;junk&lt;/strike&gt; stuff out of their house around 11:00am.  Didn't they know they have already missed the rush of shoppers?  Look at how they just threw their stuff out there without even making it look good!  Do they really think they are going to sell anything?   Apparently we could have learned a thing or two from our neighbors because less then an hour after they &lt;strike&gt;pulled junk out of their house&lt;/strike&gt;  set up their sale, someone pulled up, offered them $325.00 for everything they had, and they were done.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I didn't make near what my neighbors across the street did, all was not lost.  In fact it was nice spending the morning chatting with the other peasants on the block. I came home with a few new treasures and the lack of sales allowed me to bring home my beloved books until next year.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-4780129140932442718?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/4780129140932442718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=4780129140932442718&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/4780129140932442718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/4780129140932442718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/04/there-are-certain-first-in-life-that.html' title='You Can Take The Girl Out Of The Garage Sale But You Can&apos;t Take The Garage Sale Out Of The Girl'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfW3MIJgGQI/AAAAAAAAADA/iKm1ZiffYgU/s72-c/garagesalecrawfishboil+011.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-3248700933185336058</id><published>2009-04-22T16:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-22T18:43:35.023-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Preschool and California</title><content type='html'>As a preschool teacher, I'm privy to all sorts of personal family tidbits from my little darlings.  &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Note to parents of preschoolers&lt;/span&gt;.... &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;befriend your child's preschool teacher because she probably has some serious dirt on you thanks to your child.&lt;/span&gt;  When they are not inadvertently spilling family secrets they often say funny things that sometimes ring true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overheard at the lunch table today:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Boy Number One to boy number two&lt;/span&gt; : &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;" You know the devil is real!!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Boy number two:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;" Yeah I know and he lives in California !! "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmmm.... It seems my friend follows California politics....  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; While the prince of darkness has a pretty firm grip on some of California,  a large portion of The Golden State still allow their values to shine.  Case in point, Ms. California.  Whether you agree with her  stance on gay marriage or not, you have to give her credit for standing up for her beliefs.  Instead of taking the easy way out and giving a politically correct, audience appeasing answer, she gave her honest heartfelt opinion.  An opinion that may have cost her the crown.  All because she adhered to her beliefs.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last November when the majority of California voters voted in favor of Prop 8 protecting the sanctity of marriage, it was branded as discriminatory and narrow-minded. Again,  because the majority of voters adhered to their beliefs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a saying that states "  As California goes, so goes the nation".  If there is any truth to this, I pray that the   Californians that are not afraid to stand up for what they believe in will continue to stay true to their values.  They cannot afford to let their guard down because after all,  &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;the devil is real and he lives in California.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-3248700933185336058?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/3248700933185336058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=3248700933185336058&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/3248700933185336058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/3248700933185336058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/04/preschool-and-california.html' title='Preschool and California'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-5913596488845337121</id><published>2009-04-18T17:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-27T19:10:26.441-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Caution:  Raising Teenagers Might Lead to Drinking</title><content type='html'>Last weekend hubs and I went out with a group of friends.  As is often the case in a big group, the guys carry on their own conversations about whatever it is that guys talk about, and the women have interesting, meaningful conversations.  So over good Mexican food and even better  Margaritas, our meaningful conversation turned interesting when we started talking about sex.   Not the  "Oh My Gosh I can't believe we are talking about that"  kind of sex talk, but the "UGH!  We have teens and we have to worry about them having sex"  kind of talk.    There were a couple of young mommies who's children were  young enough that they could still get away with simple sex talks such as  " the stork brings babies" and the  "difference between mommy and daddy is that daddy can do number one while standing and mommy has to sit"...........&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;sigh.&lt;/span&gt;........... I miss those days.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The rest of us were deep in the trenches of teenage angst with kids ranging from thirteen to seventeen.  Collectively we have spent enough money on acne medications, sanitary items, and deodorant to help bail out Detroit.   While some worried that their children might have already experimented with the opposite sex, and others didn't think theirs had gone that far yet,  we all came to the same conclusions:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every mom there agreed that if it were up to us all of our teens would abstain from sex until they were married. Not one mom there  said she wanted her teen to get as much experience as they could under their belt..(pun intended).. before they got married. Surprisingly even the younger - &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;not to far removed from their teenage years&lt;/span&gt;- moms agreed with that idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all agreed that while abstinence is the optimum choice, it is not totally feasible to expect it from every teen.  With that in mind we would want our child to be educated and be aware of their options in preventing unwanted consequences of sexual activity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all agreed that it is so much better to lose sleep because of a restless toddler sleeping in your bed than losing sleep worrying about an active teen getting into someone else's bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we all agreed to order another round of Margaritas and change the subject.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-5913596488845337121?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/5913596488845337121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=5913596488845337121&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/5913596488845337121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/5913596488845337121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/04/caution-raising-teenagers-might-lead-to.html' title='Caution:  Raising Teenagers Might Lead to Drinking'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-7410908372205939281</id><published>2009-04-17T03:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-18T18:30:51.719-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I like my tea with sugar and a BIG CROWD</title><content type='html'>While I didn't actually have any tea on Wednesday, I did have a great time with a few thousand of my new BFF's.   We were so excited to get there, we actually got on the road early and got to San Antonio around 10:00am.   We would have gotten there a little earlier, but there is a Bucee's right out side of San Antonio.  I have a great fondness for Bucee's, -  not stopping was not an option.  For those of you who do not know what Bucee's is, it is the &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Hyatt Regency&lt;/span&gt; of truck stops.  &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Yep&lt;/span&gt;.       I have a great fondness for a fancy truck stop that has a cute beaver as it's mascot.     But that is a whole different post... right now I'm recapping the Tea Party.     We got there early enough to get some prime seats right behind the stage.  &lt;br /&gt;Here's a picture of Ciara and Trey with their signs: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/Sehn1xCil2I/AAAAAAAAACQ/42X4zCNEdcE/s1600-h/tea+party+011.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/Sehn1xCil2I/AAAAAAAAACQ/42X4zCNEdcE/s320/tea+party+011.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325620732760332130" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aren't they cute?   It was so awesome to sit and talk to the people that were there.  People from all walks of life and all with different backgrounds.  This gentleman was right behind us.  He is a 79 year old veteran, who's children tried to talk him out of coming due to his poor health, but he said he felt it was his civic duty to take a stand for his grand children's future.  Here he is being interviewed by the local television station.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SehpdU5gWaI/AAAAAAAAACY/78XgN1G0mlE/s1600-h/tea+party+002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SehpdU5gWaI/AAAAAAAAACY/78XgN1G0mlE/s320/tea+party+002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325622511912638882" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While we were waiting Ted Nugent came out to do his sound check. We were pretty close and Paul and Trey were thrilled.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SehqXfhgu7I/AAAAAAAAACg/tZScfMIgNh0/s1600-h/tea+party+021.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SehqXfhgu7I/AAAAAAAAACg/tZScfMIgNh0/s320/tea+party+021.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325623511197203378" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are a few of my favorite pictures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SehraLj91KI/AAAAAAAAACo/jJ3pkFBFdPk/s1600-h/tea+party+026.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SehraLj91KI/AAAAAAAAACo/jJ3pkFBFdPk/s320/tea+party+026.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325624656890025122" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Isn't Edward the cutest little activist you have ever seen? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Loved this picture of the dog.  He didn't look like he was fired up, but believe me he was on the verge of some serious civil disobedience &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SehsFViKBAI/AAAAAAAAACw/4Xw1pgK87rs/s1600-h/tea+party+024.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SehsFViKBAI/AAAAAAAAACw/4Xw1pgK87rs/s320/tea+party+024.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325625398301164546" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is a picture of our group. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SehsuV0AQiI/AAAAAAAAAC4/7EqrXyNo444/s1600-h/tea+party+040.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SehsuV0AQiI/AAAAAAAAAC4/7EqrXyNo444/s320/tea+party+040.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325626102750659106" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is estimated that there were between 9000 - 10,000 people there and I believe it.  It was amazing to see such a huge crowd.  But to hear 9000 people say the Pledge of Allegiance together and then to have that same huge crowd all bow their heads in complete silence to say a prayer was absolutely awesome!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the course of the day there were various speakers, and one point that they all drove home was to not let the momentum die when the party was over, and I hope the majority of people took that message to heart. &lt;br /&gt; I know I did. &lt;br /&gt; Today I will contact my State Representative about a sanctuary city law that will be coming up for vote.  Later on this evening I will be looking online to see what other issues might affect my family, and I will let my elected officials know my opinion of them.  That is what it is all about. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I'm not an activist.  To be honest I would rather read about fashion trends than political news, but I also refuse to blindly trust my children's future to a bunch of Washington bureaucrats.   I hope my 9000 new BFF's feel the same way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-7410908372205939281?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/7410908372205939281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=7410908372205939281&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/7410908372205939281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/7410908372205939281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-like-my-tea-with-sugar-and-big-crowd.html' title='I like my tea with sugar and a BIG CROWD'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/Sehn1xCil2I/AAAAAAAAACQ/42X4zCNEdcE/s72-c/tea+party+011.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-1183215494798687829</id><published>2009-04-16T03:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-16T04:36:18.652-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tea  Party Update</title><content type='html'>Right now I'm working on 4 hours of sleep, with a long day ahead, so the update will be coming.    It was &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Awesome&lt;/span&gt; and I took a ton of pictures.    Hopefully I'll get a post up tonight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-1183215494798687829?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/1183215494798687829/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=1183215494798687829&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/1183215494798687829'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/1183215494798687829'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/04/tea-party-update.html' title='Tea  Party Update'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-6132866375692847580</id><published>2009-04-14T10:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-24T07:03:10.867-07:00</updated><title type='text'>One of a Dying Breed</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;.................................. DISCLAIMER........................................&lt;br /&gt;If you are thin-skinned, highly emotional, make things out of nothing, hormonally imbalanced, or dislike me in anyway, please do not read the following post. Just keep surfing and check back in a few days for a new post.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About a year ago a friend of mine and I were &lt;del&gt;dishing&lt;/del&gt; chatting  about a mutual acquaintance.  During the course of the conversation my friend mentioned that this particular acquaintance had a Face book page.  &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;A Face book page&lt;/span&gt;? &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt; A woman our age&lt;/span&gt;?  Isn't that for  teens and young adults to post questionable pictures of themselves and &lt;del&gt;pick up one another&lt;/del&gt;  network?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Fast forward to now.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;It seems Face book is not just for narcissistic teens, but also for computer savvy adults that use this application for everything from connecting with long lost friends to enhancing their job searches.  &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Who knew?&lt;/span&gt;  While I once considered myself somewhat "hip" or "cool" (feel free to insert your own catch phrase  that means "aware of the latest trends")  apparently I have been relegated to the ranks of old fogey.......  For I am the one hold out amongst my friends who is not on Face Book.      Why not?      For me the question is more why would I?  Now if you chose to disregard the disclaimer at the top of the page, and you have a Facebook account, please know that I am not passing judgement on your choice.   In fact, I'm sure  if I had a way to visit your pages I would  enjoy them immensely.  But a social network is just not for me and  looking up long lost friends doesn't sound too appealing either.   There are just some elements of my past that need to stay &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;firmly&lt;/span&gt; in the past.   And doesn't it seem somewhat presumptuous  to think that someone might actually care what I had for dinner last night or that I might get my nails done this weekend? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I Know.. I know... your saying:  "But you blog!  Isn't that the same thing?" Perhaps to some it is but not to me.   Here is why I decided to blog: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; One day I was thinking how cool it would be to know what my mother or grandmother were thinking, doing, and even cooking when they were my age.   I would love to be able to turn on my computer and read how they felt about things, or see some pictures of their day to day life.   So, I decided I would create a blog for my family, and for me to look back on and remember things and events.   Kind of my own personal scrapbook/diary/logbook. It's just something that I enjoy, and you may very well feel that way about Facebook!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I found this article on Newsweek's web page and I thought it pretty much sums up why Face Book is not for me. &lt;a href="http://www.newsweek.com/id/185641?tid=relatedcl"&gt;http://www.newsweek.com/id/185641?tid=relatedcl&lt;/a&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have lived long enough to know &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;never&lt;/span&gt; to say &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;never&lt;/span&gt;, but I don't think I will be reliving my high school days by searching for old friends or writing on any body's face book wall anytime soon.&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-6132866375692847580?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/6132866375692847580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=6132866375692847580&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/6132866375692847580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/6132866375692847580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/04/one-of-dying-breed.html' title='One of a Dying Breed'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-8792003427710849837</id><published>2009-04-12T06:17:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-13T05:18:57.091-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Easter</title><content type='html'>Hello my name is Annie..............................................I'm 43 years old............. and my mother still makes me an Easter basket each year............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SeHwnKeD-cI/AAAAAAAAACI/rObO-zNIbU0/s1600-h/ciara+becky+rodoe+(17).jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SeHwnKeD-cI/AAAAAAAAACI/rObO-zNIbU0/s320/ciara+becky+rodoe+(17).jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323800790144645570" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes each Easter when we go to visit my mom and dad, she has an Easter basket for each of her grandchildren and one for each of her children and their spouses.   There has never been a year for as long as I can remember, that I didn't get an Easter basket from my mom. &lt;br /&gt;Growing up my three siblings and I would wake up Easter morning, pillage through our baskets,open all the little toys, and enjoy a breakfast of chocolate and jellybeans. Then before church each of us would hide our individual baskets in a secure place lest someone took a liking to some of our candy and claimed it as their own....This was candy people...CHOCOLATE candy......we had to do what we had to do.  Anyway,  I'm sure there were plenty of years that the budget was tight and putting those baskets together required some serious penny pinching on my parents part, but each year without fail there would be a colorful basket full of goodies on our dressers.  Of course many years have come and gone, and she no longer sneaks into our bedrooms while we are asleep and puts the baskets on our dresser......&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;because that would be downright weird&lt;/span&gt;....... but she does still enjoy shopping for just the right Easter fare and then arranging  it in a cute little Easter themed containers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh sure the contents have changed.  I no longer get jump ropes, bubbles, and huge one-eyed chocolate bunnies.  Now I get grown-up stuff like gourmet coffee, chocolate truffles, and cute Easter decorations.    While the treats in my basket have matured, I still act like a five year-old when I dig through it, and I have been known to hide it somewhere where no one can find it.   (I guess old habits die hard.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I know there will come an Easter when I no longer get a basket from my mom and that is something I don't even want to think about.  So for right now, I'll get my basket from my secret hiding place,  sip my gourmet coffee, enjoy my chocolate truffles and revel in the fact that I'm still my moms little girl.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-8792003427710849837?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/8792003427710849837/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=8792003427710849837&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/8792003427710849837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/8792003427710849837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/04/happy-easter.html' title='Happy Easter'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SeHwnKeD-cI/AAAAAAAAACI/rObO-zNIbU0/s72-c/ciara+becky+rodoe+(17).jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-8788106096293915081</id><published>2009-04-10T11:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-11T11:01:26.742-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Got Grace?</title><content type='html'>Websters dictionary defines Grace as "the exercise of love, kindness,and mercy to benefit or serve another." &lt;br /&gt; So what does grace in action look like?  &lt;br /&gt;If you follow today's headlines, you will be hard-pressed to find any stories that show humanity reflecting grace. But sometimes we find grace being lived out by members of our own family.  Sometimes it is cloaked in  mundane actions and it looks like obligation, but if you look deep enough you will see it is grace. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  My father-in-law has been suffering from a horrible disease called Lewy Body Dementia.   His mental and physical decline has been swift and pronounced and he now lives in an Alzheimer's facility. All four of  his children live out grace as they care for  his physical needs, conduct his financial business, and spend countless hours visiting him.  They have traveled many miles, sacrificed time with their families, and forgone personal relationships all to ensure that he is comfortable and well taken care of.  They don't expect kudos or accolades for what they do.  Their father isn't even in a state to thank them.  They simply do it out of love. That is what grace is all about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night was our Holy Friday service to reflect on God's ultimate show of grace.  As I thought about the magnitude of his sacrifice, I was struck by  how easy he made it for us to reflect his love. We don't have to take on someone else's sins and endure beatings or death to show how much we care for them. He already did that.. for all of us.  There is a myriad of seemingly ordinary things that we can do for others to reflect God's grace. Looking at my day to day living it is obvious to me that I &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;ask&lt;/span&gt; for God's grace so much more than I &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;give&lt;/span&gt; it.  So my challenge to myself is to look for ways to show it.  Maybe it will be giving undeserved forgiveness, perhaps it will be reaching out to the sick or needy, or maybe it will be as simple as acknowledging and giving a dollar to that homeless person on the corner.  Whatever it is, it may be difficult or uncomfortable, and I may not do it out of love for the recipient, but i will do it out of love for my Savior.  How about you?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-8788106096293915081?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/8788106096293915081/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=8788106096293915081&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/8788106096293915081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/8788106096293915081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/04/got-grace.html' title='Got Grace?'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-6829922982776736856</id><published>2009-04-10T10:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T10:14:39.664-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Finally..... Words of Wisdom</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Quotes that I have come across that really struck a cord with me: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Never be afraid to trust an unknown future to a known God." - Corrie ten Boom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A man who wants to lead the orchestra must turn his back to the crowd." - Max Lucado&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"When a train goes through a tunnel and it gets dark, you don't throw away the ticket and jump off. You sit still and trust the engineer." - Corrie ten Boom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Forgiveness doesn't make the other person right, it makes you free." -Stormie Omartian&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hillary Clinton says it takes a village to raise a child. I've seen the village; and I don't want it raising my child." -unknown&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-6829922982776736856?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/6829922982776736856/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=6829922982776736856&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/6829922982776736856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/6829922982776736856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/04/finally-words-of-wisdom.html' title='Finally..... Words of Wisdom'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-3517846205644931302</id><published>2009-04-09T04:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-09T14:56:56.246-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.eph2810.com/?page_id=459" &gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y140/eph2810/TTButton.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I woke up to this: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/Sd3guJD8unI/AAAAAAAAACA/dxPVg32aGds/s1600-h/blog++photos+020.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/Sd3guJD8unI/AAAAAAAAACA/dxPVg32aGds/s320/blog++photos+020.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322657417932880498" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thankfulness was not the first thing to come to mind.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Wednesday nights are rehearsal at our church and P (my hubs) plays in the band.  Add to that Sundays when Ciara and Trey participate in youth band and you are pretty much guaranteed to find some sort of musical instrument cluttering up my house on any given day. And well... it's just not that easy to stuff a 'big ole' guitar under the couch when you have unexpected company at the door... believe me I have tried.&lt;br /&gt; But I digress.  &lt;br /&gt;  I actually am thankful for the talent that God has bestowed upon  my family and I love that they use it to glorify him.  It does my  heart good when I hear my  son and my husband planning their next excursion to the guitar shop.  I like to hear my daughter attempting to pluck out old hymns on the keyboard, or to see her looking up words to worship songs that she will be singing on Sunday. So the next time I have to rearrange band equipment just to sit on my couch, instead of wishing I had my own personal roadie, I'll offer up a little prayer of thanksgiving for my families musical aptitude.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For more Thankful Thursday posts visit http://womentakingastand.blogspot.com/ &lt;a href="http://womentakingastand.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-3517846205644931302?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/3517846205644931302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=3517846205644931302&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/3517846205644931302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/3517846205644931302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/04/this-morning-i-woke-up-to-this-at-first.html' title=''/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/Sd3guJD8unI/AAAAAAAAACA/dxPVg32aGds/s72-c/blog++photos+020.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-3678710628961312772</id><published>2009-04-08T16:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-08T17:03:58.883-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tea Anyone?</title><content type='html'>One more week until the San Antonio Tax Day Tea Party!  In honor of  my hubs birthday, we planned on attending the one closer to home but then some friends convinced us to make a day of it and drive the couple of hours to San Antonio.  We are taking the kids out of school for this important "civics lesson" and I hope it leaves a lasting impression on them.  Their generation is going to be burdened with a big mess if this crazy spending continues.  If you are having a tea party near you, I encourage you to get involved.  This is not about party affiliation, but more about getting back to " &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;a government of the people, by the people, for the people"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/rBX1DNf4qQc&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/rBX1DNf4qQc&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-3678710628961312772?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/3678710628961312772/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=3678710628961312772&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/3678710628961312772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/3678710628961312772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/04/one-more-week-until-san-antonio-tax-day.html' title='Tea Anyone?'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-4451710838870325484</id><published>2009-04-07T13:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-09T14:59:06.829-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My First Works For Me Wednesday Post!</title><content type='html'>I have followed &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;WFMW&lt;/span&gt; for years and  have gotten so many great ideas from it. But  now that I have a blog I finally get to contribute! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Woo &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Hoo&lt;/span&gt;!  Okay, okay, enough of the celebration and onto my tidbit of information. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I love to use chopped onion and garlic while cooking, but I hate the smell that lingers on my hands for days afterwards.  I have tried everything out there from wearing gloves to buying a stainless steel thingy that was supposed to miraculously remove the odor from my hands just by rubbing it on them. These tricks were either ineffective or unpractical.   So yesterday after chopping up  some onions and garlic for my lasagna,  I took some baking soda and salt and poured them into a cup.  I then added just enough lemon juice to make a paste.  I  rubbed this paste on my hands for about a minute, rinsed and then used my favorite hand soap to wash away the residue.  Not only did it take off all of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;oniony&lt;/span&gt;-garlicky smell, but it did a great job of exfoliating my hands at the same time!  I didn't use any specific &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;measurement&lt;/span&gt; of any of the ingredients, I just poured them in until it looked good.  I hope this recipe works for you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-4451710838870325484?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/4451710838870325484/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=4451710838870325484&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/4451710838870325484'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/4451710838870325484'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/04/my-first-works-for-me-wednesday-post.html' title='My First Works For Me Wednesday Post!'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-8495527938686914000</id><published>2009-04-06T19:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-09T15:00:07.991-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Husband - My Best Friend</title><content type='html'>I've been blessed with an awesome husband.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Sometimes life gets in the way and I don't realize how fortunate I am  to have my &lt;del&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;best friend&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/del&gt;  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;soul mate&lt;/span&gt;  living in my house with me.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Friendship is a fickle thing.   Through the years I have had friendships in high school, church, neighbors etc.. Some have lasted through many years, been stretched to their limits and bounced back, only to vanish so suddenly that I don't  even know what caused them  to dissolve.   Others have been friendships of convenience that were destined to only last as long as the playgroup or club that my child was in.   Still others have fallen  victim to circumstances such as moves or divorces.  While these friendships  never really ended they  turned  into the obligatory Christmas card or occasional e-mail. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; My friendship with my husband has lasted the test of time.   He will always be the one that I can count on to listen to my problems, laugh at my jokes (most of the time) and be there when I need a shoulder to cry on.   Yes we have our arguments.   When we do we each deal with them  in our individual ways.   But eventually our commitment to our relationship wins out and we somehow find ourselves back in each others good graces.   I guess when you boil it down commitment (or lack thereof ) is what determines the fate of all relationships.   God willing he and I will grow old together and find our selves surrounded by generations of grandchildren and great- grandchildren.  And just maybe that  strong sense of commitment will be a family trait that we pass on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-8495527938686914000?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/8495527938686914000/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=8495527938686914000&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/8495527938686914000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/8495527938686914000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/04/my-husband-my-best-friend.html' title='My Husband - My Best Friend'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-2453118532341135819</id><published>2009-04-04T17:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-11T14:33:59.758-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Shopping and Baking.. What could be better?</title><content type='html'>Today my lovely daughters and I had a great afternoon shopping.  Savannah (married for a whole three weeks!) came over and had quite a few wedding gift cards to Bed Bath and Beyond that she was eager to spend.   But first we decided to go to the ultimate fabric store downtown!   We all love this store and every time we go, we spend hours just walking around feeling the fabric, and talking about all of the things we could sew.   Now I know you non-sewers are probably wondering how in the world one could spend ten minutes in a fabric store let alone hours, I understand, I have those same feelings about auto parts stores, gun shops, and tractor supply stores, ( all places my husband can spend hours in) but fabric stores are right up there with Christmas morning in my book.   However, as much as we love to go to this particular store, we get totally overwhelmed when we walk in and most of the time we leave there with very little in the way of fabric, and a lot of lofty ideas about things we would love to create.   Today we actually came out with fabric and plans of things to actually make out of said fabric.  Ciara decided that she wanted to try her hand at sewing and she bought some yummy cuddly fabric that she will make a patch work type blanket with.   Savannah bought the same type of fabric in different shades that she plans on making  a baby blanket for her sister-in-law with.   Afterward we stopped for lunch and then onto Bed Bath &amp;amp; Beyond.  Savannah was able to buy most of the remaining things on her Bridal registry with the gift cards that she had.   We ended our trip by stopping off at Hobby Lobby and taking advantage of their Simplicity pattern sale.   All in all it was a great afternoon.   I feel so blessed to have these special times with my precious daughters.  Now onto the baking part of the day.   This morning I saw these sad bananas on the counter&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SdgA9K993DI/AAAAAAAAABI/hHx73NK7oXg/s1600-h/blog++photos+004.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SdgA9K993DI/AAAAAAAAABI/hHx73NK7oXg/s320/blog++photos+004.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321004010654522418" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These old bananas were past their prime.   No longer young and firm, they were ready to be re-purposed.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Oh bananas I feel your pain! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Anyway, what better way to re-purpose old bananas then to give them new life as banana bread!   Through the years I have tried a number of different Banana Bread recipes, but I can honestly say I always go back to my tried and true recipe from a cook book that I received as a wedding gift twenty three years ago.   This recipe is basic and easy and I have always had great luck with it.  As you can see from the page in my cookbook, I have used it a lot!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/PAULLA%7E1/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/moz-screenshot-1.jpg" alt="" /&gt;                            &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SdgCpalN-OI/AAAAAAAAABQ/iYyFsbMEqu8/s1600-h/blog++photos+005.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SdgCpalN-OI/AAAAAAAAABQ/iYyFsbMEqu8/s320/blog++photos+005.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321005870271559906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This recipe is so yummy, and while it is not totally healthy, I'm quite sure it can be modified to a more healthier version.   Here is the finished product.  This loaf is going to be wrapped and put into the freezer until we are ready to eat it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                     &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SdgDY6rTl2I/AAAAAAAAABY/v4FxTG6Qj9Y/s1600-h/blog++photos+009.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SdgDY6rTl2I/AAAAAAAAABY/v4FxTG6Qj9Y/s320/blog++photos+009.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321006686340880226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Banana Bread       &lt;br /&gt;1 cup sugar&lt;br /&gt;1 cup (2 medium) mashed bananas&lt;br /&gt;1/2 cup butter softened&lt;br /&gt;1/4 cup milk&lt;br /&gt;1 teaspoon vanilla&lt;br /&gt;2 eggs&lt;br /&gt;2 cups all purpose flour&lt;br /&gt;1 teaspoon soda&lt;br /&gt;1/2 teaspoon salt&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heat oven to 350.  Grease (not oil) bottom only of loaf pan.  In large bowl, blend first 6 ingredients, beat 1 minute at medium speed.  Stir in remaining ingredients just until dry ingredients are moistened.  pour batter into loaf pan.  Bake at 350 for 50 - 60 minutes or until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean.  cool 5 minutes, remove from pan.  Enjoy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-2453118532341135819?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/2453118532341135819/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=2453118532341135819&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/2453118532341135819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/2453118532341135819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/04/shopping-and-baking-what-could-be.html' title='Shopping and Baking.. What could be better?'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SdgA9K993DI/AAAAAAAAABI/hHx73NK7oXg/s72-c/blog++photos+004.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948565913367315712.post-594735579850896556</id><published>2009-04-04T08:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-04T08:52:44.819-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Uncharted Territory</title><content type='html'>Well I finally decided to take the plunge and start a blog.  I think this will be a blog of randomness ( ok randomness is not really a word but you get the point), I may post day to day happenings in our household, pictures, crafts ideas, or even some deep inspiring words of wisdom... Well.. probably not words of wisdom, more like frivolous ramblings but they will be a way for my family to keep abreast of things that are happening in my life, and a way for me to remember the little things that make life what it is.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4948565913367315712-594735579850896556?l=aspiringannie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/feeds/594735579850896556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4948565913367315712&amp;postID=594735579850896556&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/594735579850896556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4948565913367315712/posts/default/594735579850896556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aspiringannie.blogspot.com/2009/04/uncharted-territory.html' title='Uncharted Territory'/><author><name>Annie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01166302206287335032</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1tjLFsgC0RI/SfYHIm7dflI/AAAAAAAAADY/fon6yQhjyq4/S220/kids+on+hammock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
