<?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'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20357063</id><updated>2009-12-29T22:19:42.922-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mary-Margaret's Diary</title><subtitle type='html'>The world as I see it from my point of view.  I'm just a small town "Yorkette" with big city dreams. Things tend to take on a different perspective when you're only maybe 12" tall and I'm only too happy to share mine with you.  Be sure to click on "archives" to read even more about my life.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>Mary-Margaret O'Brien</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>1027</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20357063.post-4160942198312475568</id><published>2009-12-29T16:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-29T16:29:40.290-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Peace on Earth</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/Szqegt2vwdI/AAAAAAAACcQ/Ag-tbNlrOZo/s1600-h/MM+Xmas+2009.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/Szqegt2vwdI/AAAAAAAACcQ/Ag-tbNlrOZo/s320/MM+Xmas+2009.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420819386396033490" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Auntie Jackie took this picture of me by Aunt Janet's Christmas Tree.  I think it's one of my best pictures ever, don't you?  Ohhhhhhhhhhh....I truly absolutely love being with my fambly.  I do!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mary-Margaret&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20357063-4160942198312475568?l=mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/feeds/4160942198312475568/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20357063&amp;postID=4160942198312475568&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/4160942198312475568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/4160942198312475568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/2009/12/peace-on-earth.html' title='Peace on Earth'/><author><name>Mary-Margaret O'Brien</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16761700704259629998'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/Szqegt2vwdI/AAAAAAAACcQ/Ag-tbNlrOZo/s72-c/MM+Xmas+2009.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20357063.post-1155605126664268440</id><published>2009-12-29T10:40:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-29T15:44:48.232-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The REAL Santa!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/SzpNO_aRDtI/AAAAAAAACcA/APJoQlHOswA/s1600-h/Comp+Michele-Dawn.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 229px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/SzpNO_aRDtI/AAAAAAAACcA/APJoQlHOswA/s320/Comp+Michele-Dawn.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420730021428924114" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can tell this is the REAL Santa because he's actually listening to what I want for Christmas.  I am thinking really hard because I want to make sure he gets it right.  Remembering what means the most to me I said (after a pause), "WORLD PEACE!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/SzpPteaQ5tI/AAAAAAAACcI/aLuNcloLOpU/s1600-h/Crop+2+DSC_0023.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 310px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/SzpPteaQ5tI/AAAAAAAACcI/aLuNcloLOpU/s320/Crop+2+DSC_0023.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420732744169744082" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's what I want more than anything....even more than duck jerky!  Oh....and that reminds me.  My very good friend, Gina, was saying she's running out of her bag of treats.  I must absolutely make sure that she has more.  I think I'll take her some today or tomorrow or....soon, anyway.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah....You can tell where my head is all the time.  Food.  Except Pumpkin Bread.  Whoa.  Even without raisins it comes back up quicker than it goes down.  What a mess, too.  I was everly so embarassed, but Mom just cleaned me and my carseat up when we got to the post office and....oh?  Too much information?  Sorry...you KNOW how I get off track sometimes.  Sorry again.  Yes...I did ask for world peace.  I probably shouldn't have mentioned the pumpkin bread.  But I'm the one who wanted it in the first place.  My bad!  Someday, I'll learn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope everybody got their wish for Christmas.   We did.  We spent Sunday with our FAMBLY!!  I mingled, and Mom just enjoyed seeing everybody and watching them have a good time, which made her have a good time, too!  She misses my sisters a whole lot, and her grandkids, and her grand dogs.   Maybe next year they won't be so far away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love and licks....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mary-Margaret&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20357063-1155605126664268440?l=mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/feeds/1155605126664268440/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20357063&amp;postID=1155605126664268440&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/1155605126664268440'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/1155605126664268440'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/2009/12/real-santa.html' title='The REAL Santa!'/><author><name>Mary-Margaret O'Brien</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16761700704259629998'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/SzpNO_aRDtI/AAAAAAAACcA/APJoQlHOswA/s72-c/Comp+Michele-Dawn.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20357063.post-5053870742645417864</id><published>2009-12-26T12:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-26T13:16:34.850-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Merry After-Christmas!</title><content type='html'>'Tis the day after Christmas &lt;br /&gt;And all through the kitchen&lt;br /&gt;The micro-wave buzzes&lt;br /&gt;Heating left-over chicken&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And turkey and stuffing,&lt;br /&gt;And cranberry and cake,&lt;br /&gt;With my eyes wide open&lt;br /&gt;I eat all I can take!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm tossed skimpy morsels&lt;br /&gt;Of some left-over yummy;&lt;br /&gt;And what falls to the floor&lt;br /&gt;I now add to my tummy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom shakes her head.&lt;br /&gt;"Finish whats on YOUR plate!&lt;br /&gt;Think of those starving Chinese&lt;br /&gt;Children - they'd appreciate!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guzzle, I slobber&lt;br /&gt;I slurp and I gobble&lt;br /&gt;Til' my bowl is empty&lt;br /&gt;And I can barely hobble&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ohhhh", I groan and I moan,&lt;br /&gt;and I belch, burp and wheeze.&lt;br /&gt;But I'm proud of myself...&lt;br /&gt;I saved the Chinese!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Consider me an Ambassador of Good Will to China?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your humble servant...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mary-Margaret "Urp" O'Brien&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20357063-5053870742645417864?l=mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/feeds/5053870742645417864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20357063&amp;postID=5053870742645417864&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/5053870742645417864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/5053870742645417864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/2009/12/merry-after-christmas.html' title='Merry After-Christmas!'/><author><name>Mary-Margaret O'Brien</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16761700704259629998'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20357063.post-8826074389503376161</id><published>2009-12-24T15:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-24T15:44:26.236-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Well, EX-CUUUUUSE MEEEE!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/SzP6AowjjuI/AAAAAAAACb4/sehz1d4Qz0E/s1600-h/12-22-09_1554.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/SzP6AowjjuI/AAAAAAAACb4/sehz1d4Qz0E/s320/12-22-09_1554.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418949665504857826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I am not particularly happy.  This was taken last Tuesday afternoon.  Here's the thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About 11:30AM this guy comes to the office and tickles my tummy and then says (to Mom) "Let's go!".  Huh? (I say) and what about MEEEE???  Mom and Shannon say "You stay here, Mary-Margaret!  This is business!".  Well, Excuuuuuse me?  I work here, remember?  I am the receptionist and Head of Puplic Relations, right?  Hmmmmmm?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am ignored and, as they walk out the door, Mom says "I love you and I'll be back in about two hours!".  Oh, I am SOOOOOO broken by this.  I sit by the door and sniffle a bit.  Shannon says (and not particularly sympathetically, either) "Get over yourself, Mary-Margaret!".  I am now completely crushed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe an hour into this pain of abandonment Shannon decides she needs to go across the hall.  She opens the door just a crack, probably to sneak out on me, but by now I'm on to her game.  I make a break for it and race down the hallway toward the double doors.  She's yelling "YOU GET BACK HERE, YOUNG LADY!!", but I'm not going for it.  She can't catch me.  I am as quick as a rabbit, zigging and zagging down the hall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Allstate Insurance opens their door to see what the commotion is all about.  Hah! (I say)  These people are my friends and they FEED me sometimes.  I duck into their office and try to hide.  Wait....oh, hello?  They are NOT my friends when it comes to hiding from Shannon?  I'll remember that next time they want a kiss from me.  Phooey!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I get picked up, scolded, and plopped back on the floor in our office (after Shannon finishes her business across the hall), and I cry.  Oh yes.  I cry big alligator tears and I sigh, and I wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About 1:45PM I hear my mom .... she has a distinctive walk and I can also smell that it's her, not that she stinks in the literal sense of the word, but ...well, I'm NOT happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As soon as she sits down I am all ... like... pick me up?  Please?  So she does, and I dig my little fingerettes into her shoulder and I am NOT getting down come Helen Highwater.  Not that I know who Helen Highwater is, but I hear her name a lot in this business.  I digress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do believe that I made it perfectly clear that this treatment is NOT ACCEPTABLE.  Nope.  Not at all.   And I sulked all afternoon to make my point, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's Christmas Eve as I'm writing this and I'm over it.  Yup....and I'm thinking about feeling happy and stress-less, and wishing you and everyone a relaxed, peaceful and loving Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All my love.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mary-Margaret&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20357063-8826074389503376161?l=mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/feeds/8826074389503376161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20357063&amp;postID=8826074389503376161&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/8826074389503376161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/8826074389503376161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/2009/12/well-ex-cuuuuuse-meeee.html' title='Well, EX-CUUUUUSE MEEEE!'/><author><name>Mary-Margaret O'Brien</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16761700704259629998'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/SzP6AowjjuI/AAAAAAAACb4/sehz1d4Qz0E/s72-c/12-22-09_1554.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20357063.post-1669588056264596683</id><published>2009-12-21T17:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-21T17:25:45.256-08:00</updated><title type='text'>OHMYGAWSH!  Dolly from Puppy School!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/596/2038/1600/061506%20Dr%20V%20and%20Puppy%20School%20016.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/596/2038/320/061506%20Dr%20V%20and%20Puppy%20School%20016.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was a little Yorkette I went to Puppy School and made some ever-lasting friends.   Dolly the Oripei (gee, I hope I spelled that right!) was one of them.  Her mom was in MY bank today and she REMEMBERED MEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!   I couldn't believe my ears.  Dolly's mom remembered me!  Wow. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dolly has a new sister, Jezebel, who I haven't met yet but she smells really nice.  I can tell who's been where by the way their humans smell.  And Margie, their mom, smelled really good.  The picture is Dolly and Baxter (the Brittany Spaniel).  That was about 3 1/2 years ago.  I wonder how big Dolly is now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's another pic of me and my students.  This is back when I was ..(ahem?)..."Mentoring" the little ones, back in June 2006, when I was only nine months old:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/596/2038/1600/061506%20Dr%20V%20and%20Puppy%20School%20013.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/596/2038/320/061506%20Dr%20V%20and%20Puppy%20School%20013.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  Here's me breaking up another squabble.  This time between Dolly the Oripei, and Reese, the little Cairn terrier.  She's so funny.  She hoards the toys and stockpiles them just behind the little tree.  She's got a mouth on her that could get her into trouble.  I'm having a stern talk with her and she is listening to what I have to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gina wasn't working today which made me sad.  I looked absolutely EVERYWHERE for her.  I even went to the back of the bank as far as I could, then I got in line and stood up as high as I could on my tippy-toes.  No Gina today.  How disappointed can I get?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seeing Margie and visiting with her just made my day, though.  It's nice to keep in touch with old friends.  I told her to say "Hi" for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mary-Margaret&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20357063-1669588056264596683?l=mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/feeds/1669588056264596683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20357063&amp;postID=1669588056264596683&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/1669588056264596683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/1669588056264596683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/2009/12/ohmygawsh-dolly-from-puppy-school.html' title='OHMYGAWSH!  Dolly from Puppy School!'/><author><name>Mary-Margaret O'Brien</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16761700704259629998'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20357063.post-6064926978092808805</id><published>2009-12-19T17:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-19T17:49:56.673-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Six more days - Santa's EVERYWHERE!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/Sy1-sAJ9zkI/AAAAAAAACbw/rx7f1taLDS4/s1600-h/IMG_3233.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/Sy1-sAJ9zkI/AAAAAAAACbw/rx7f1taLDS4/s320/IMG_3233.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417125221217717826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's me on my way to work Friday.  Notice I'm thinking about all I have to do at the office.  I dressed very professionally, too, wearing my school jumper and white blouse.  I kept it pretty neat all day, too, despite all the excitement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As soon as I got there I smelled my very good friend, Robert.  I TOLD Mom he was there and she didn't believe me.  Well, HAH!  He came up to see ME in my office later and told Mom that he took the shell off the back of his truck so she didn't recognize it.   I can't explain it, but I get all like jelly inside when I see ...(sigh)...&lt;em&gt;Robert&lt;/em&gt;.  Shannon snorts at me and says need to get over it, but I have a special feeling for him.  I do!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/Sy1-rnuI53I/AAAAAAAACbo/rlt4tJJvi9E/s1600-h/DCH+121909+IMG_3235.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 301px; height: 303px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/Sy1-rnuI53I/AAAAAAAACbo/rlt4tJJvi9E/s320/DCH+121909+IMG_3235.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417125214658553714" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's what we did today instead of a report - sat for two hours at DCH Honda in Temecula.  Last night the light came on that means we need to get some maintenance done.  Mom freaked out...I didn't.  I TOLD her...chill.  Still, at 4:55PM she screeches into the Honda dealer and blithers all over herself about this silly light.  They are very helpful there.  They also agreed with me and told her that just means we need an oil change or some other routine maintenance.  So we made an appointment for 10:15AM today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom took a book; I took my Christmas dress.  There was a sign saying that Santa would be there on Saturday and Sunday.   I took that to mean the REAL Santa and I wasn't going to miss out.   Sure enough, at 11:00AM Santa's helper came and got me and took a bunch of pictures.  This guy was very nice and loving and asked me what I wanted for Christmas and EVERYTHING A SANTA IS SUPPOSED TO DO.  He also didn't have hairy arms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made a lot of friends and gave out lots of kisses.  I'm more of a people person than my mom is.  I think she's gotten a little shy in her old age.  That's ok.  I love her anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got our oil changed, air filter, oil filter, window washer fluid, tires rotated, new brakes, new pads...the whole kaboodle.   This is our way of saying Merry Christmas to our car. Good thing we saved our money, huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we went to Barnes &amp; Noble and got our Christmas books, and to the office to get our mail, and to the market to get our sparkly cider.  We're ready...bring it on!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only six more days....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mary-Margaret&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20357063-6064926978092808805?l=mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/feeds/6064926978092808805/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20357063&amp;postID=6064926978092808805&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/6064926978092808805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/6064926978092808805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/2009/12/santas-everywhere.html' title='Six more days - Santa&apos;s EVERYWHERE!'/><author><name>Mary-Margaret O'Brien</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16761700704259629998'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/Sy1-sAJ9zkI/AAAAAAAACbw/rx7f1taLDS4/s72-c/IMG_3233.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20357063.post-6381226645186668137</id><published>2009-12-18T09:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-18T09:48:16.460-08:00</updated><title type='text'>SEVEN more days! Christmas Spirit?</title><content type='html'>Sometimes it seems like people get angry and up-tight about Christmas.  They gripe about not having money, wonder where they'll go for dinner, and spend money they don't have so someone will have a super-dooper over-the-top present that they'll "ooh" and "ahhh" over but forget about in a matter of days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whenever we'd see a commercial asking for money, or saying "Christmas is all about all children having a present under the tree!", we'd cringe.   We watched the neighbors putting up their Christmas trees and we were debating over whether or not we should dust off the tree in the garage and hang ornaments on it, or if we should buy a new one...(problems problems, right?)...and then we heard about a single mom who had her power cut off and couldn't afford to pay the deposit to get it turned back on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom wrote her a check for $100 and quietly gave it to her, without asking for publicity or anything else.  I told Mom that having my family was the best present I could ask for, and not to get me anything this year.  Mom told me to keep my money in my piggy bank, too, and that she felt the same way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, a miracle happened.  We started singing Christmas carols, and we smiled as we drove through our neighborhood admiring all the lights.  We started planning on what we were going to do to celebrate our Lord's birth, and decided we'd splurge on a new book from Barnes &amp; Noble, buy some Orville Redenbacher buttery popcorn and Martinelli's sparkly cider, and snuggle under the afghan while watching movies and reading our new book (we're partial to Phillipa Gregory's fact-filled fiction about English history).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We feel really happy, blessed and light hearted.  Christmas Spirit for us, anyway, is feeling love and having a happy heart, knowing that you are blessed with good health, good friends, and good family all year around.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May you all have the opportunity to give to someone in need this Christmas and feel the magic of the season, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love and kisses...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mary-Margaret&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20357063-6381226645186668137?l=mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/feeds/6381226645186668137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20357063&amp;postID=6381226645186668137&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/6381226645186668137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/6381226645186668137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/2009/12/seven-more-days-christmas-spirit.html' title='SEVEN more days! Christmas Spirit?'/><author><name>Mary-Margaret O'Brien</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16761700704259629998'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20357063.post-1564103712744649795</id><published>2009-12-15T08:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-15T08:56:22.178-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ten more days 'til Christmas!!</title><content type='html'>Woo hoo!  I'm excited.  I wonder what Santa will bring me?  The REAL Santa, not that guy from PetSmart, I mean.   I already know that I am NOT getting my first choice - a baby brother or sister.   I wouldn't even care if it was a human baby, though I would prefer another York or Yorkette.  But even if I get nothing, I am still blessed with my life.  Even my Dr. V once said that if there's such a thing as reincarnation, she want's to come back as "Mary-Margaret".  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was picking out my gifts for my fur family I thought "What would I like?", so that's what I got them.  Shhhhh!  It has to be a surprise.   Yup!  But honestly, I liked the presents SOOOO much, I almost didn't give them away.   Mom reminded me that Christmas was about feeling happy because you've made someone ELSE happy, so keeping gifts wouldn't quite cut it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's true, though.   Like December is probably the WORST month of the year in our business.  And yesterday morning Mom gave away some of her work to clients who needed our help but couldn't really afford it.  And I hopped into their laps and gave them some loving and licks.   Mom and me both felt really sparkly and happy inside afterwards, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, yesterday afternoon, other clients came in and brought us work and paid for it up front.  Hmmmmmm!  This totally validates my belief that the whole universe is a system of opposites.  You know!  Like "positive/negative", "good/evil", "plus/minus" and so on.  If you do something nice for someone without wanting something back for it, you get surprised by something nice happening for you when you least expect it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think humans say it like this - "What goes around, comes around!".  Some call it a "Random act of kindness!" or "Pay it forward!".  It works.  It really REALLY works.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May the spirit of the Christmas season be with you all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love and kisses....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mary-Margaret&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20357063-1564103712744649795?l=mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/feeds/1564103712744649795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20357063&amp;postID=1564103712744649795&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/1564103712744649795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/1564103712744649795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/2009/12/ten-more-days-til-christmas.html' title='Ten more days &apos;til Christmas!!'/><author><name>Mary-Margaret O'Brien</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16761700704259629998'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20357063.post-4423250185999121807</id><published>2009-12-13T19:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-14T09:50:56.063-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Santa Claus?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/SyZ6BP-X5sI/AAAAAAAACbg/3ZXkU35CtSQ/s1600-h/Santa+2009.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 224px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/SyZ6BP-X5sI/AAAAAAAACbg/3ZXkU35CtSQ/s320/Santa+2009.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415149763846203074" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guess who I was supposed to see today?   Hmmmmmm?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I got this red velvet dress put on me (with white snowflakes and sparklies on the skirt).  Then I got handed off to a fat guy in a red velvet suit, wearing a white beard that kept slipping off (causing the mustache to fall into his mouth), a cheap watch and thin white cotton gloves. He had hairy arms that hung out below his sleeves(his suit was a little small).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom kept saying "SMILE!", the camera lady kept trying to make me look up, and the chubby guy said nothing because, I think, the beard kept gagging him.  "What do you want for Christmas", I heard. "Tell Santa!".  I glared.   The dress was way too hot and this isn't working for me.  I admit to being a dog but I am NOT stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I was sitting on this guy's lap a Chihuahua and a Golden Retriever (Daisy and LuLu, respectively) got in line.  After three tries the camera lady gave up on trying to get me to smile.  I wriggled free, arms outstretched to Mom, and said (politely, of course) "Get me outta here!".  We waited for our picture to get printed and framed, so I figured I'd see how well Daisy and LuLu did.  Daisy kept glancing at me and asking if this was "de verdad?" ("for real" in Spanish).  Chihuahuas catch on quick.  LuLu kept a huge grin pasted on her face since it seemed to make her human happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh?  What's this?  My wish came true?  Sure enough, I silently wished for a baby sister and here one was right next to me, human and only one month old, named "Avery".  She was wearing red pajamas and smelled....um.....ripe?  PERFECT (I said), and as I got ready to claim my gift Daisy's mom grabbed the baby and handed her to Santa, poopy diapers and all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess things have a way of working out.  Next time I see Santa, it better be the real thing.  I can tell, you know.  And so can the Universal Forces, as evidenced by Avery's special gift to Santa.  Life is good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom says she'll try to post my picture tomorrow.  She's too tired tonight.  She hopes you understand.  (NOTE - Mom remembered!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love and Christmas Cheer....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mary-Margaret&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20357063-4423250185999121807?l=mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/feeds/4423250185999121807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20357063&amp;postID=4423250185999121807&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/4423250185999121807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/4423250185999121807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/2009/12/santa-claus.html' title='Santa Claus?'/><author><name>Mary-Margaret O'Brien</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16761700704259629998'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/SyZ6BP-X5sI/AAAAAAAACbg/3ZXkU35CtSQ/s72-c/Santa+2009.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20357063.post-3955902932369529447</id><published>2009-12-13T11:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-13T11:13:55.885-08:00</updated><title type='text'>As Good as New (Almost)</title><content type='html'>Remember how I told you the other day that I really REALLY like postcards?  Hmmmmm??&lt;br /&gt;And how I truly savor them?  And how I got carried away and pretty much shredded one from my Aunt Elaine before anyone caught me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/SyU61qMEz-I/AAAAAAAACbY/rL8nOuw8KEA/s1600-h/IMG_3229.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/SyU61qMEz-I/AAAAAAAACbY/rL8nOuw8KEA/s320/IMG_3229.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414798820515303394" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Out of the baggie and into my collection!  Mom DID it!  She DID.  It's whole again.  It's a miracle, good DOG, it's a MIRACLE!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/SyU61YWWqfI/AAAAAAAACbQ/IfG2RyRBY9Y/s1600-h/IMG_3230.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/SyU61YWWqfI/AAAAAAAACbQ/IfG2RyRBY9Y/s320/IMG_3230.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414798815726578162" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Note to myself: I am a shred-a-holic. I need help!)  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(PS - Thank goodness for Scotch tape!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mary-Margaret&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20357063-3955902932369529447?l=mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/feeds/3955902932369529447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20357063&amp;postID=3955902932369529447&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/3955902932369529447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/3955902932369529447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/2009/12/as-good-as-new-almost.html' title='As Good as New (Almost)'/><author><name>Mary-Margaret O'Brien</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16761700704259629998'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/SyU61qMEz-I/AAAAAAAACbY/rL8nOuw8KEA/s72-c/IMG_3229.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20357063.post-3742832588418891851</id><published>2009-12-12T13:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-12T14:09:34.316-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Leaping Lizards, Daddy Warbarks!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/SyQRLNLTwDI/AAAAAAAACbI/Hk5L9w4sRJw/s1600-h/IMG_3227.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/SyQRLNLTwDI/AAAAAAAACbI/Hk5L9w4sRJw/s320/IMG_3227.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414471536219504690" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's me doing what I love absolutely the everly most best:  HUNTING LIZARDS!!!  Yup.  Even fresh from the Puppy Day Spa, the first thing I do when I get to work is look for lizards.  I never ever caught one so don't know what I'd do with it if I did, but still.  It's one of my great pleasures in life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/SyQRKznu--I/AAAAAAAACbA/CgPfNgRB9nI/s1600-h/IMG_3228.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/SyQRKznu--I/AAAAAAAACbA/CgPfNgRB9nI/s320/IMG_3228.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414471529359408098" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's me sitting nicely, like my mom asked, and posing for the camera.  This might be my official Christmas 2009 picture.   Maybe.  Unless we go see Santa Claus, which is iffy today.  It's cold and rainy and Mom's in a pre-holiday funk.  She really misses her family and kids.  I tell her that's why she has MEEEEE, which seems to be of some comfort, but I know I'm no substitute for humans.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where are her kids, you ask?  Well, one is in Minnesota with her hubby and three of Mom's grandkids; the other one is just over the hill but she's going to Hawaii this Christmas with her hubby and the other two of Mom's grandkids.  So it's just me and her.  Yup.  So we're wrapping and packing and getting stuff ready to ship out on Monday so at least everybody will have presents from us at Christmas.  That's kinda fun to do.  I get to play with the ribbon and the paper scraps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I keep getting emails asking me to help Nigerians get their money over here to the USA.  All I have to do is send them a certified check to show good faith.  If they knew who they were asking they'd be the one's surprised.  I am not a pup with "deep pawkets", and I got no money, honey!  Maybe $13 plus change in my piggy bank but that's for a really rainy day, not an iffy one like today.  Actually, only $3.00 'cause Mom still owes me $10 from the tip I got from one of my clients last month.  But I will have $13 when she pays me back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope you're all staying dry...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mary-Margaret&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20357063-3742832588418891851?l=mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/feeds/3742832588418891851/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20357063&amp;postID=3742832588418891851&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/3742832588418891851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/3742832588418891851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/2009/12/leaping-lizards-daddy-warbarks.html' title='Leaping Lizards, Daddy Warbarks!!'/><author><name>Mary-Margaret O'Brien</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16761700704259629998'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/SyQRLNLTwDI/AAAAAAAACbI/Hk5L9w4sRJw/s72-c/IMG_3227.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20357063.post-6702084562147274431</id><published>2009-12-10T12:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-10T17:03:59.997-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Merry Christmas and....Well, Crud!!</title><content type='html'>I love Christmas...decorations, yummies and stuff.  And cards....especially Christmas cards.  If you look at our office  you'll see that MOST of the cards are to MEEEEEEEE.  From MY friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/SyFnbyvrOPI/AAAAAAAACaw/Q2pGvMwLg-M/s1600-h/2009-12-1012.43.02.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/SyFnbyvrOPI/AAAAAAAACaw/Q2pGvMwLg-M/s320/2009-12-1012.43.02.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413721954251913458" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/SyFnbvpl8nI/AAAAAAAACao/ff5HDHcaJH0/s1600-h/2009-12-1012.42.51.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/SyFnbvpl8nI/AAAAAAAACao/ff5HDHcaJH0/s320/2009-12-1012.42.51.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413721953421095538" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About the "Well, Crud!" comment, I would have said something else but Mom "hushed" me.  I got a card from my Auntie Elaine in Tampa today.  I KNEW it was for me.  Like...nobody else BUT me gets postcards, right?  Anyway....Mom read it out loud to me and Shannon.  And then, because I was hopping up and down, saying "MINE!  MINE! MINE!", Mom handed me the card.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It smelled like Brighton, NY.  It smelled just like my Auntie Elaine, which reminds me of my VERY good friends, AbbeyMia, Harper and Piper.  Which makes me hungry.  (Don't ask..it's a dog thing!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So...I sniffed, I licked, I kissed, and I shredded and I was just about to digest the whole thing when Mom and Shannon absolutely SHRIEKED at me.  "NO NO NO"....and I got the whole thing picked up and headed for the trash when my mom intercepted Shannon.   It's in a baggie now.  Mom says she's going to reassemble it (like a jigsaw puzzle) and put it with my card collection where it belongs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/SyGaZavtv3I/AAAAAAAACa4/xXCjKMdIy9k/s1600-h/Shredded+postcard+from+Elaine.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 262px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/SyGaZavtv3I/AAAAAAAACa4/xXCjKMdIy9k/s320/Shredded+postcard+from+Elaine.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413777988542906226" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess humans have a totally different idea of how one is to enjoy post cards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmmmph!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mary-Margaret&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20357063-6702084562147274431?l=mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/feeds/6702084562147274431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20357063&amp;postID=6702084562147274431&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/6702084562147274431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/6702084562147274431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/2009/12/well-crud.html' title='Merry Christmas and....Well, Crud!!'/><author><name>Mary-Margaret O'Brien</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16761700704259629998'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/SyFnbyvrOPI/AAAAAAAACaw/Q2pGvMwLg-M/s72-c/2009-12-1012.43.02.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20357063.post-750069871993676988</id><published>2009-12-08T15:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-08T15:37:05.847-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear GrandPapa.....</title><content type='html'>Hi, GrandPapa.  It's meeeeeeeeeeee....Mary-Margaret.  Mom left me at home alone this morning and forgot to turn off the computer.  Silly woman!  She KNOWS how I am.  I watched her leave through my little window by the door.  She said she'd be gone two hours, so I figured I had just about enough time to hop on her chair and log in, and maybe even update you on what I've been doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's pretty cold at night, so I do a lot of snuggling.  We had "fambly day" on Sunday which means movies and popcorn.  I LOVE popcorn.  We watched some "Harry Potter" marathon.  Oh...and we did some Christmas shopping (on the internet, of course!).  We only have a couple more things to get and we're done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think maybe we'll do Christmas cards this weekend.  Just to fambly and a few friends, though.  We have three boxes, but I can't remember how many are in them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I can go see Santa Claus, too.  Last year we went with Auntie Colleen and my Uncle Rudy and got pictures taken.  Or maybe it was the year before.  I can't remember.  I think we'll go to PetSmart instead of PetCo, though.  They have nicer frames.  I'm working on my smile especially for YOU, Grandpapa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uh oh....I think I hear the car.  I better move fast or I'm in beeeeeg trouble.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love ya...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mary-Margaret&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20357063-750069871993676988?l=mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/feeds/750069871993676988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20357063&amp;postID=750069871993676988&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/750069871993676988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/750069871993676988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/2009/12/dear-grandpapa.html' title='Dear GrandPapa.....'/><author><name>Mary-Margaret O'Brien</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16761700704259629998'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20357063.post-6999555952275185219</id><published>2009-11-26T09:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-26T10:01:16.482-08:00</updated><title type='text'>RRRUFFFF!  AWWRRURRR!</title><content type='html'>Happy Thanksgiving, EVERYDOGGIE!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I learned last year:&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;1)  Do not cap off your tank;&lt;br /&gt;2)  If you ignore #1, stay off white berber carpets (turkey parts tend to get stuck in the fibers);&lt;br /&gt;3)  Make sure you know exactly where your potty pad is;&lt;br /&gt;4)  Jello is not your friend;&lt;br /&gt;5)  Just because someone gives it to you doesn't mean you have to eat it!!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;And, dear Lord, please hear our prayer that all pups have a family, a warm place to sleep, and plenty to eat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Best wishes to everyone, with love....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mary-Margaret O'Brien&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20357063-6999555952275185219?l=mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/feeds/6999555952275185219/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20357063&amp;postID=6999555952275185219&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/6999555952275185219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/6999555952275185219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/2009/11/rrruffff-awwrrurrr.html' title='RRRUFFFF!  AWWRRURRR!'/><author><name>Mary-Margaret O'Brien</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16761700704259629998'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20357063.post-6727259712049707874</id><published>2009-11-22T18:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-22T18:29:40.229-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sundays with Mom!</title><content type='html'>In case I hadn't told you before, me and my mom share a bed.  She gets the left hand side with the remote - I get the right hand side.  We watch TV before we fall asleep.  Sometimes I get right to the end of the bed so I can see up close.  When I'm ready to call it a night I get on my pillow and curl up.  I snore pretty loud, which you already know, but it's ok.  Mom says it's kinda reassuring to know that all is well in my world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About 4 or 5 in the morning it gets a bit chilly, so I skootch under the covers and snuggle up with my "bed buddy".  She says it keeps her warm, too.  If she gets up before I'm ready, I let her give me a tummy kiss but then I get back under the covers to catch a few more "zees".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We vacuumed (which I HATE) and did laundry (which I LOVE!).  I can't explain it but vacuum cleaners give me the creeps.  They make a nasty sound and look mean and eat everything in their path.  One time one even ate my leash!  With ME on the other end, too.  Talk about scary.  I got unhooked really fast and watched while my mom untangled me.  My leash was pretty curly after that so I got a new one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Laundry.......oh, that's the ONE thing I can't wait for.  I dive into the piles, muss them up to make a nest....rearrange stuff.  The undescribable aroma of dirty laundry is the absolutely best smell in the whole world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's pretty much it, GrandPapa.  We have clean sheets, clothes and other stuff.  I even helped make the bed.  Mostly I just lay on it to get any wrinkles out, but I know it's helpful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope you had a nice dinner at Mike and Janet's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mary-Margaret&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20357063-6727259712049707874?l=mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/feeds/6727259712049707874/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20357063&amp;postID=6727259712049707874&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/6727259712049707874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/6727259712049707874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/2009/11/sundays-with-mom.html' title='Sundays with Mom!'/><author><name>Mary-Margaret O'Brien</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16761700704259629998'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20357063.post-4152186188894664323</id><published>2009-11-20T20:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-20T21:21:17.184-08:00</updated><title type='text'>TGIF!!</title><content type='html'>Thank God It's Friday!!  I wasn't going to write anything because today was pretty uneventful but Mom laid the old Doglish guilt trip on me.  (sigh)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm...well, we went to three banks today.  The first one got complicated (not MY fault) because we were taking some money out of two accounts and putting it into two others.  The second one was easy, and the third one wanted to know if we wanted to refinance.  Well, it seems that got us into trouble a few years ago and Mom patiently explained why we don't want to do that again.  They must have gotten the idea because they smiled and wished us a good day, giving up on their sales pitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back at the office I decided to play the old "Ditch the Dog" game.  You remember?  The one where I pretend to go into the office but duck out just as the door closes?  And I get to run up and down the hallways, and listen under people's doors?  Well, it's NOT FUN when no body knows you're missing.  After about an hour or so, I got pretty worried and squished my little body really close to the door.   I'm not allowed to bark so that wasn't an option.  FINALLY!! Shannon opens the door to go across the hall and I practically FELL into our office.  Boy, were the ladies surprised.  I raced inside and JUMPED into my office bed.  Sheesh!  I don't think I'll play that again for a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After work we went to Albertson's.   I made some friends.  First, I met an 8-month old little girl and we hit it off right away.  She stretched her hand out to me and I kissed her fingers.  We both started talking to each other quietly...she'd coo and I'd go "wurf".  I guess I got a little carried away, though, because on my final "wurf" it was a bit louder than I intended and I got glared at.  OK..I am SOOO sorry.  It won't happen again (I said).  I saw her later in the check out line and I smiled, but kept my "wurfs" to myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were two kids in the vegetable section at the lettuce stand who looked like they needed some loving.  The little boy was maybe 5 and the girl was about 7.  BigJack (he said that was his name) and Kalani.   I know when people need me...it's just a gift I have.  Their dog got run over by a car a few days ago and they were missing it a whole lot.  So I let them love on me, and I kissed their faces, and they petted me and ......you know.   I just did what I do best.  We met again in the butcher department, and then again at check out, where BigJack gave me lots of hugs and Kalani helped my mom put her groceries on the checker's counter.  They made a point of saying good-bye to me, too.  I love helping people.  It makes my heart happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we went to Customer Service so I could do my usual "meet and greet" with my VERY good friend, Janet.  She just got a dog from the pound - a black Lab type named "Crash".  Her dog Lucky went to the Rainbow Bridge not too long ago and her family had an opening, so Crash went to live with them.  He's only two, so I know I can probably do some mentoring there.  She lives just up the street from us and I wouldn't even have to cross any roads because she's on the first cul-de-sac on the left.  Yup.  I could probably go there by myself now that I'm FOUR!  (ow..just kidding, Mom...I'd never go without you!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I ate all my dinner (fresh baked chicken and duck kibble)  and hung out with my Mom.  She has a hand towel folded in half for me on the left hand corner of her desk.  It's yellow and soft and fluffy, and very VERY comfortable.  When she's taking dictation I lay there and stare into space (she thinks).  The truth is, which she just now discovered, is that I can see the TV in her bedroom and tonight "Shrek the Third" was on.  So I was watching that and trying to remember what I did today.  "Donkey" is my favorite character.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK...Gads.  That took a lot of space to tell you about nothing special.  Sorry for rambling like that but I guess a lot of stuff actually did happen today.  Yup.  I'm a lucky pup.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love and kisses and have a great weekend...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mary-Margaret&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20357063-4152186188894664323?l=mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/feeds/4152186188894664323/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20357063&amp;postID=4152186188894664323&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/4152186188894664323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/4152186188894664323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/2009/11/tgif.html' title='TGIF!!'/><author><name>Mary-Margaret O'Brien</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16761700704259629998'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20357063.post-5065963721356840708</id><published>2009-11-19T23:17:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-20T15:00:48.581-08:00</updated><title type='text'>HAPPY BIRTHDAY, GRANDPAPA</title><content type='html'>Today, November 19, my GrandPapa has a birthday.  This is a very special birthday because he's going to be 89.  Yup.  EIGHTY-NINE.  He takes pretty good care of himself, eats well (unless you count potato chips, ice cream and Mountain Dew), and he gets up and out every single day.  We think he has more energy than me and Mom combined.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're going to go see him on Thanksgiving.  OHhhhhh!!!  I can't WAIT.   I just love it when &lt;em&gt;fambly&lt;/em&gt; gets together, don't you?  I wish we could have absolutely everyone to our house but it's just not possible any more.  Mom's got arthur-itis in her back and she can't bustle about like she used to.  I've seen pictures and heard stories about when she used to get as many as 26 people to a sit-down dinner.   That's when my Aunt Susie and Uncle Sneakers were still here.  Counting them, that's 28.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway...everybody wish my Grandpapa a very happy birthday.  I know we do.  And we send him hugs and lots of slurpy kisses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From our hearts, Grandpapa... You are the BEST!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love, Mary-Margaret&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20357063-5065963721356840708?l=mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/feeds/5065963721356840708/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20357063&amp;postID=5065963721356840708&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/5065963721356840708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/5065963721356840708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/2009/11/happy-birthday-grandpapa.html' title='HAPPY BIRTHDAY, GRANDPAPA'/><author><name>Mary-Margaret O'Brien</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16761700704259629998'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20357063.post-8838515116251831252</id><published>2009-11-18T08:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-18T13:17:27.394-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Grounded....ME?</title><content type='html'>Well, shoot.  I'm sitting there with my mom watching "Good Morning America" and I hear "MEEE-YOOOOOOWWWR" and "RRRR-OOOOWWWWRRRRRR".  Ooooh, (I said) "CAT FIGHT!".  Wooo hoo.  Who doesn't love a cat fight, I ask?   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I went racing out my little personal door to get a good seat.  But they were gone.  I missed the whole fight, darn it.  I kept walking back and forth along the back wall hoping to catch a glimpse of them but no success.   Then I hear "Mary-Margaret, COME!".   I pretend I hear nothing and continue patrolling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"YOU GET IN HERE YOUNG LADY!!".  Oh yell yourself silly (I say quietly).  I'll come in when I'm darn good and ready.   &lt;strong&gt;"I SAID COME!!"&lt;/strong&gt; Yeah Yeah (I say) and I keep walking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"YOU ARE NOW GROUNDED!"&lt;/strong&gt;  Yeah?  Big whoopeeeee (I say) and sit down in the sunlight against the back wall.  I hear the door in the kitchen slam a couple of times, but I know it's just a ploy.  She's got so many tricks up her sleeve and I'm wise to them all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next thing I see is my mom in her lavendar bathrobe and bare feet walking across the lawn to me.  Uh oh (I think)..jig's up.  I surrender.  I am scooped up and...egads!  I am thwacked on my butt.  Yup.  Not hard, but it's emotionally painful for me.  I am put in my place and told NEVER do that again and I should "come when you're called!".   Well, fine!  I am SORRY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So she goes upstairs to get ready for work and turns around when she gets to the landing.  She says "Come!" in her most nicest voice ever.  This is a test, I'm sure, but I come anyway.  I even race her to the top of the stairs.  Hah!  I showed her.  I am a GOOD puppy.   Yup.  I just happen to know that I'm smarter than she is, but she is the one with the food and the bed, so I let her think she's boss.  I can do "pawlitics" just as good as the next guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love and kisses...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mary-Margaret&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20357063-8838515116251831252?l=mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/feeds/8838515116251831252/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20357063&amp;postID=8838515116251831252&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/8838515116251831252'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/8838515116251831252'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/2009/11/groundedme.html' title='Grounded....ME?'/><author><name>Mary-Margaret O'Brien</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16761700704259629998'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20357063.post-3149226436865230206</id><published>2009-11-17T17:11:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-17T17:18:06.214-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Teaching Tigger</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/SwNKQ6KXBBI/AAAAAAAACag/rhjZDQTPoOU/s1600/Tigger+b++11-17-09_1405.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 167px; height: 148px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/SwNKQ6KXBBI/AAAAAAAACag/rhjZDQTPoOU/s320/Tigger+b++11-17-09_1405.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405245632125797394" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tigger came in with him mom today.  She needed to have a notary done.  She told me that Tigger was only 4 months old and wasn't very social.  I said "Put him down and I'll socialize him!".  She didn't believe me.  It took a while but finally Tigger got down on my level.  He nipped at me once and I was very gentle.  Maybe only fifteen minutes later he was playing nicely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ohhh...I DO so love babies.  I miss being a mentor at Puppy School.  I must be pretty good, too, because when the lady was all done being notarized she gave me a TEN DOLLAR TIP.  Wow.  I think that's only the second time in my whole life that I've been given a tip.  The lady even said I could baby sit Tigger any time.  Wow. Who'da thunk it? I can make $$$$$.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mary-Margaret "The Entrepreneur" O'Brien&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20357063-3149226436865230206?l=mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/feeds/3149226436865230206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20357063&amp;postID=3149226436865230206&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/3149226436865230206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/3149226436865230206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/2009/11/teaching-tigger.html' title='Teaching Tigger'/><author><name>Mary-Margaret O'Brien</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16761700704259629998'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/SwNKQ6KXBBI/AAAAAAAACag/rhjZDQTPoOU/s72-c/Tigger+b++11-17-09_1405.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20357063.post-5760251629245901613</id><published>2009-11-16T21:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-16T21:59:42.235-08:00</updated><title type='text'>No! No! No!  I don't WANNA go!</title><content type='html'>Gina works Mondays at the bank.  I love Gina so I love Mondays.  As soon as I saw her I started running toward her.  Never mind that Mom was still holding on to my body about four feet off the floor - I had all my arms and legs going at once.  I would have flown to Gina if I had wings.  I get plopped on the counter and Gina picks me up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First off, she says "Oh, HI, Mary-Margaret", and then she says "Hang on!  I have to cut up some more jerky!".  I tell YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!  She knows what a puppy likes.   While she's slicing and dicing, I am saying "Hello!" to Marilyn and Aida.  They say "Hello" back and laugh with me.  I'm very careful not to mess up any piles of paper or step on Gina's ink pad again.  Yeah...nothing like inky paw prints on the teller's counter, right?  Then I sit down until Gina hands me some duck jerky.   Oh YUMMMM! (I say).  And I remember to say "Thank you!", too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After Mom makes the deposit and visits with Gina for a bit I hear, "Come on, Mary-Margaret!  It's time to go!".  Huh? (I say) I don't THEEENK so.  I'd rather stay here with Gina.  Gina scoots me across the counter toward Mom and I scoot back to Gina.  Then something weird happens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom puts her hand against her forehead and says "Ok...I can see you'd rather stay with Gina.  Good-bye, Mary-Margaret!".  She sort of lists to one side.  And then she starts to cry.  "Ohhh, Mary-Margaret!  I'm so sad and hurt (sob sob)", she goes.  Now this bothers me a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I turn around and walk across Gina's counter and reach for my mom.  Well, good gosh.  I've never heard her cry like that before.  I was just kidding.  Really, I was.  I don't EVER want to be without my mom.  Mom turned around and picked me up and she and Gina winked at each other.   Now, I'm not totally sure about this so I'm not saying anything, but....well, maybe I got snookered?  You think?  What's it called..?  Alligator tears?   Hmmmmmph!  See if THAT works again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll probably get to see Gina again on Wednesday.  She goes to school on Tuesday and Thursday so I get to snuggle up to Xochitl (pronounced Soshi) those days.  I just love Xochitl too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love ya...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mary-Margaret&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20357063-5760251629245901613?l=mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/feeds/5760251629245901613/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20357063&amp;postID=5760251629245901613&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/5760251629245901613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/5760251629245901613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/2009/11/no-no-no-i-dont-wanna-go.html' title='No! No! No!  I don&apos;t WANNA go!'/><author><name>Mary-Margaret O'Brien</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16761700704259629998'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20357063.post-2003709095853053308</id><published>2009-11-08T18:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T18:44:51.080-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Home!!</title><content type='html'>Wow...that was fun!  I just LOVE LOVE LOVE hotels.  Mom said she should have named me "Eloise".  Like...whateverrrrr!  I have no idea who that is, but Mom said it was her most favorite book when she was ten.  Hmmmmmmm!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got home maybe 1:30 or so and picked up our mail and went to Albertson's.  They had just taken some freshly roasted chickens out of that thing-a-ma-bob that goes round and round.  Guess what I had for dinner tonight?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We ate early and I slept most all afternoon.  Conferences can be SOOOOO exhausting, don't you think?  I'm told I snored some during one of the presentations today, but by then everybody knew it was me so it's kewl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Probably going to go to bed early and maybe watch "Desperate Housewives".  I outgrew my "Desperate Housedogs" shirt a few sizes ago and we donated it to the vet for puppies who get cold easily.  Now I just skootch under the covers if I get chilly.  I help keep my mom warn that way, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Niters for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yours truly,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mary-Margaret&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS:  My Aunt Allie in Hawaii (who took in ONE homeless chicken to be nice and ended up with a whole flock of them AND fresh eggs, too!) is now the proud mother of a duckling named "Graham Quacker".  She says her daughter-in-law, Candice, named him.  Isn't he the cutest ever??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/SveB5pTJ9TI/AAAAAAAACaY/VY61oJuVUcE/s1600-h/Graham+Quacker.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/SveB5pTJ9TI/AAAAAAAACaY/VY61oJuVUcE/s320/Graham+Quacker.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401929105392923954" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20357063-2003709095853053308?l=mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/feeds/2003709095853053308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20357063&amp;postID=2003709095853053308&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/2003709095853053308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/2003709095853053308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/2009/11/im-home.html' title='I&apos;m Home!!'/><author><name>Mary-Margaret O'Brien</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16761700704259629998'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lFCoo05VYsc/SveB5pTJ9TI/AAAAAAAACaY/VY61oJuVUcE/s72-c/Graham+Quacker.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20357063.post-4151600738094033161</id><published>2009-11-07T18:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-07T18:35:41.027-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear GrandPapa....</title><content type='html'>I'm on a business trip.  A conference, if you will.  MEEEEE!  Mary-Margaret O'Brien.  When I found out Mom was going and she was going to take meeeee because I am FOUR and I'm old enough now, I was everly so excited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, we were downstairs listening to people talk.  I dozed a bit between taking notes...well, actually, taking notes was pretty hard to do without opposable thumbs, so I was remembering until I fell asleep.  Then we had some lunch, and I got to go out a few times.  So many smells...so little time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This afternoon there was a panel of four speakers - One bankruptcy judge and three attorneys.  Mom was really into it but I zonked out.  After their presentation Mom started explaining that sometimes I snore pretty loud and she hoped it didn't bother any one.  Oh, HOW EMBARRASSING!  They HEARD me maybe three rows away, and they thought it was my MOTHER.  She took it all right, but I blushed a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then for supper I got to pick what I wanted off the menu.  We had FIVE choices:  Grilled lemon chicken breast, char-grilled new york sirloin (with rosemary sofritto) , broiled green tea lacquered salmon, shiitake essence, stir fried brown rice with sunny side organic egg (blegh!) and stone fired pizza.  I picked STEAK.  (Hey, I'm not paying for it!).  It was dee-lish!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I'm all full of energy and messing with Mom's laundry.  This is the life.  I could get used to it.  Room service is the best ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love and kisses....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mary-Margaret&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20357063-4151600738094033161?l=mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/feeds/4151600738094033161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20357063&amp;postID=4151600738094033161&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/4151600738094033161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/4151600738094033161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/2009/11/dear-grandpapa.html' title='Dear GrandPapa....'/><author><name>Mary-Margaret O'Brien</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16761700704259629998'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20357063.post-3407663890238403633</id><published>2009-11-05T17:02:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T17:25:45.914-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What the bank said!</title><content type='html'>We got a call from the bank this morning.  Here's how it was explained to my mom:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the teller closed out her work two days ago she had a couple of extra checks.  She made up another deposit slip and put the $650.00 into our account.  (Nobody likes loose checks floating around, right?)  So what we want to know is....if she fixed what she thought was a problem on the same day, how come they only took out the money and didn't put it back in?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's what we think of that "explanation" - &lt;a href="http://www.muzetunes.com/playback.asx?c=7sJOXN6dyuCn7Blld9IKgFFK6fs3lpxVoQHgtQWmLwc=&amp;f=B"&gt;(click here)&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love, Mary-Margaret&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS - We get our $4.00 back that they charged us for correcting OUR mistake (HAH!).  Mom said they ought to give us back another $4.00 that we are charging them for THEIR mistake.  You want to know what they said?  Hmmmmmm?   Click on the "click here" link again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20357063-3407663890238403633?l=mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/feeds/3407663890238403633/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20357063&amp;postID=3407663890238403633&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/3407663890238403633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/3407663890238403633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/2009/11/what-bank-said.html' title='What the bank said!'/><author><name>Mary-Margaret O'Brien</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16761700704259629998'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20357063.post-5348412707541689520</id><published>2009-11-04T17:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-04T17:59:41.675-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Counting on my fingerettes....</title><content type='html'>One...two...three...four!  That's how many checks we had in our bank deposit yesterday afternoon.  Today, the bank said we were missing two checks and they took $650.00 out of our account AND charged us $4.00 for doing so.  "Um...." (I said)"....four is two times as many as two."  I think someone would notice at the time we gave our money to the bank if we were missing something.  Two checks is half as thick as four checks.  No point in even going to the bank for two checks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well.  My very good friends who work there are going to find the problem and give us back our money.  And if they don't we can always get the people who wrote us the checks to give us new ones, in a month or so, if they don't get their checks back.  Still....$650.00 is a lot of money, dontcha think?  That buys a LOT of duck jerky, to my way of thinking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other than the bank losing $650.00 of our money, things are going well.  And I got to see my very good friend Gina today.  She's my personal banker, you know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mary-Margaret&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20357063-5348412707541689520?l=mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/feeds/5348412707541689520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20357063&amp;postID=5348412707541689520&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/5348412707541689520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/5348412707541689520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/2009/11/counting-on-my-fingerettes.html' title='Counting on my fingerettes....'/><author><name>Mary-Margaret O'Brien</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16761700704259629998'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20357063.post-5813501544176655698</id><published>2009-11-03T16:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-03T16:29:32.353-08:00</updated><title type='text'>RIP Bill Graham</title><content type='html'>Dear Grandpapa - I got this message from RAND today.  I think maybe you know him because he was at RAND the same time you were.  I'm very sorry that he passed away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;A memorial service for William 'Bill' Graham will be held at RAND in Santa Monica on Sat, November 14th, from 11AM to 1PM. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bill passed away on October 4th. He worked at RAND as head of the Electronics and Engineering Departments, among other positions, from 1950 to 1982 and as a consultant from 1982 to 1995. His research on defense weapon systems and remotely piloted air vehicles was widely praised by fellow experts, and he spent two tours studying U.S. operations in South Vietnam. He was also a former Navy radar technical officer.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me and Mom know if you want to go to the service.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you, GrandPapa&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mary-Margaret&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20357063-5813501544176655698?l=mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/feeds/5813501544176655698/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20357063&amp;postID=5813501544176655698&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/5813501544176655698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20357063/posts/default/5813501544176655698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mary-margaretsdiary.blogspot.com/2009/11/rip-bill-graham.html' title='RIP Bill Graham'/><author><name>Mary-Margaret O'Brien</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16761700704259629998'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry></feed>