<?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-34417572</id><updated>2009-10-29T16:47:07.258-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Precious Monkey</title><subtitle type='html'>The Monkey's stories brought to you by a ham-ma-mer and a swrew-dwiver.  Also, it's dedicated to the fwogs that need to ibbit in the (y)ard.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>The Monkey's Momma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09507844845352683344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>135</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34417572.post-5403343363235409493</id><published>2009-10-29T10:54:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-29T16:47:07.363-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><title type='text'>Not Hungry, Crabby!</title><content type='html'>Today is one of those days where I feel like a fucking babysitter.   Grown men calling in their hours, "Oh and do I need to fill out some paperwork?"  Um yeah stupid, you do need to fill out some paperwork if you want to get a check.  What was your start date?  "Um......"  You're a fucking idiot.  I can't deal with your stupidity.  Call me back when you grow a brain!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I opened this post to write about all the cute things QM is doing and saying, YES saying.  But now it is tainted with my hatorade and I will have to save that for anther time when it is written with LOVE.  Right now, it would be dripping with explitives because I'm in &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; kind of mood.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34417572-5403343363235409493?l=preciousmonkey.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/feeds/5403343363235409493/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34417572&amp;postID=5403343363235409493' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/5403343363235409493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/5403343363235409493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/2009/10/not-hungry-crabby.html' title='Not Hungry, Crabby!'/><author><name>The Monkey's Momma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09507844845352683344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05730392126891280739'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34417572.post-7268875483302486741</id><published>2009-08-14T15:37:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-14T16:01:36.488-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Husbands'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><title type='text'>A Very BIG* Weekend Planned</title><content type='html'>So this weekend we have BIG* plans! They include (in no particular order):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Husking, Cutting and Freezing many, many, many ears of sweet corn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Possibly looking at a rental home (you know, for if the fate God's allow our house to sell. I feel like we are tempting fate in to kicking us in the gut, by even &lt;em&gt;looking&lt;/em&gt;, but Todd wants to go. So I've emailed the guy, and we wait.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Possibly going to the lake with my mom. Todd does not want to go. I could go either way (that is go or stay home). Mom wants to go, kids... they will do whatever we say. :o)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Laundry&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dishes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will most &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;definitely&lt;/span&gt; think about packing (NOTE: I will not &lt;em&gt;actually&lt;/em&gt; pack anything. I will wonder around the house and think to myself "How are we ever going to move out of this house? There is SO MUCH STUFF! Packing it all will take forever and I......")&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a slight possibility of going north to watch our friend race his cars, but that is really slim. It's just, well, that would take some planning and I have a feeling we won't get there from here, but we just might. You never know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There will most &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;definitely&lt;/span&gt; be &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;eating&lt;/span&gt; and sleeping and putting the kids back into their cages at night. They sleep better in there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So really all in all, we probably won't get much done this weekend. But it's gonna be hot and well, I don't really want to do much of anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*And by BIG I mean really normal everyday unimportant things to be done.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34417572-7268875483302486741?l=preciousmonkey.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/feeds/7268875483302486741/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34417572&amp;postID=7268875483302486741' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/7268875483302486741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/7268875483302486741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/2009/08/one-step-forward-and-two-steps-back.html' title='A Very BIG* Weekend Planned'/><author><name>The Monkey's Momma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09507844845352683344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05730392126891280739'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34417572.post-5805694479564522070</id><published>2009-08-13T14:19:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-13T17:47:00.504-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Husbands'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Babies'/><title type='text'>Getting Closer</title><content type='html'>We are finally getting closer to an answer on our house.  We finally know that there may be an end to the madness soon.  But I'm still not putting all my eggs in that basket.  I'm trying to actually ignore it all.  Otherwise I spend way to much time "What If-&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;ing&lt;/span&gt;". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also don't spend anytime thinking about moving (UGH!) or where we will live next, or how long we will live there, or about the next house we want to build.  I'm trying to do this one step at a time, or it's too overwhelming.  It comes up in passing between Todd and I, but we don't &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt; look at anything because if we did and we found something that was perfect and we loved it, by the time we know when we will move, it will be gone and we will be sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So for now, we have beers on the deck and talk about it in the abstract.  Like it's happening to someone else or on TV.  I can't wait to move on and move out, but I also still really love our house.  I just wish it was on more land and MUCH cheaper.  Lesson learned, risk taken, money spent, good times had, time to move on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are constantly putting more irons in to our fire.  Like we don't have enough to do.  We both work full time, try to raise 2 kids, try to sell our house, we have a new venture we started that is sometimes part time, sometimes full time, Todd is also going to take a few classes on line and add to our already busy schedule.  He's going to go in to business for him self again (see above where he works full time, that full time is also Self Employed.)  We're just adding a 2&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;nd&lt;/span&gt; business to our resume, or adding to the amount of things his Self &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Employedness&lt;/span&gt; is already doing.  We'll probably opt for "another business".  But we'll see.  Either way, it's just more to do and keep track of on a daily, weekly, monthly scale.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love being busy and having lots to do, but it gets very overwhelming when there is  SO.MUCH.OF.IT.  So that's why I talk about things more in the abstract.  I step back and look at it from the outside.  It's happening over there, and we're watching it.  We really are taking it day by day.  We don't plan to far ahead and we don't look back. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I'm amazed how well Todd and I are getting along.  We have a &lt;em&gt;TON&lt;/em&gt; of stress right now, but neither one of us is freaking out on the other.  We are rolling with the punches, know that this is just one chapter of our lives and we'll soon put it to a close and start again.  We have been through tough times before and last time, we did not handle it as well.  When the going got tough, I went to my dads. I would run away, so we didn't fight, but it was always waiting for me when I got home (unresolved conflict.)  We fought, we yelled, we threw things, we did not do well.  This time, SO.MUCH.BETTER!   I'm glad to see that after 6 years, 2 kids, 2 houses, 5 jobs, and countless vehicles, we have learned how to be adults and rely on each other for the hard parts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here's to you honey.  Thanks for always having my back, and being the other half of me so I don't have to do all of this alone.  I love you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34417572-5805694479564522070?l=preciousmonkey.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/feeds/5805694479564522070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34417572&amp;postID=5805694479564522070' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/5805694479564522070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/5805694479564522070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/2009/08/getting-closer.html' title='Getting Closer'/><author><name>The Monkey's Momma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09507844845352683344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05730392126891280739'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34417572.post-1678883098383639287</id><published>2009-08-10T16:28:00.011-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-13T14:18:28.517-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Not Me Monday'/><title type='text'>Not Me Monday</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_98HJnWkd5MI/SoCFBLCnVXI/AAAAAAAAADk/l2jW61fFbdI/s1600-h/NotMeMondayButtonV6copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 67px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368437011015751026" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_98HJnWkd5MI/SoCFBLCnVXI/AAAAAAAAADk/l2jW61fFbdI/s320/NotMeMondayButtonV6copy.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;p&gt;I &lt;em&gt;did not&lt;/em&gt; pawn my kids off on my father-in-law so I could have a few more beers with my husband at the fair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I &lt;em&gt;wouldn't dream&lt;/em&gt; of laughing at my son when they had to stop the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;roller coaster&lt;/span&gt; because he was crying and afraid. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I &lt;em&gt;didn't threaten&lt;/em&gt; KM with bodily harm if he did not lay down and take a nap. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I &lt;em&gt;did not&lt;/em&gt; pretend to be asleep at 2.30 am when my husband and a friend got home from the bar because I didn't want to talk to him. I also &lt;em&gt;did not&lt;/em&gt; purposely leave them sleep in when I knew they should be up so they could go lay stone.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I &lt;em&gt;wouldn't think&lt;/em&gt; of feeding QM a &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Carmel&lt;/span&gt; roll for breakfast because I didn't want to do any dishes.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;(My first Not Me Monday and I think I'm getting the hang of it. I'll try a little harder for next Monday) &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;{Inspired by &lt;a href="http://www.mycharmingkids.net/"&gt;My Charming Kids&lt;/a&gt;.  Go check out her site, she is an awesome photographer.}&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34417572-1678883098383639287?l=preciousmonkey.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/feeds/1678883098383639287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34417572&amp;postID=1678883098383639287' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/1678883098383639287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/1678883098383639287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/2009/08/not-me-monday.html' title='Not Me Monday'/><author><name>The Monkey's Momma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09507844845352683344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05730392126891280739'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_98HJnWkd5MI/SoCFBLCnVXI/AAAAAAAAADk/l2jW61fFbdI/s72-c/NotMeMondayButtonV6copy.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-34417572.post-2789383805839928750</id><published>2009-07-31T16:46:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-29T09:45:50.463-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><title type='text'>Mighty Life -- Inspired by Mighty Girl</title><content type='html'>&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Grand Gestures -- 40 gifts for 40&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; birthday&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;make a 1000 lovely things&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;write a book&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;fit back in to my wedding dress and go out on the town.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;visit Italy and drink cafe at a cafe&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;finish KM and QM scrap books &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;thru&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; year 5&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Visit Alaska and see the Glaciers&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Go to NY city at Christmas, see &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Rockefeller&lt;/span&gt; Plaza&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Set foot on all 50 states -- have a few down -- many to go.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Take a family road trip across the USA.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Visit Norway and Sweden where my ancestors were from.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Buy a &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Norwegian&lt;/span&gt; sweater from Norway&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;See the Great Wall of China -- walk on it.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Make a scrap book of all the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;invitations&lt;/span&gt;/cards we've sent out as a family.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Build a new house, design and decorate every detail.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Make a quilt out of the kids' clothes -- one for each.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Cook/Bake a 1000 new &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;recipes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Take my mom on a trip - probably to Norway/Sweden&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Visit Ireland -- have a drink&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;visit the church made of bones -- Prague&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ride a &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;trolley&lt;/span&gt; in San &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Fransisco&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;See a space shuttle launch&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Go on a second honeymoon to Tahiti -- or where ever 7 days and 7 nights was filmed. (need to look it up)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;go dog sledding&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;paint something to hang in our house.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Visit Boston -- while Alyssa lives there&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Visit Washington DC -- do ALL of the tourist things.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Write a blog post everyday for 1 year&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Watch the Twins play at Yankee stadium&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Figure out how to put Life List on the side of my blog.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Have a campfire/bonfire on a beach (preferably in &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Massachusetts&lt;/span&gt;, they seem so much cooler there...)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Re-design website and re-build it myself.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Go Paint Balling (added 10/29/09)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;This is a start to my list. I will add it on the side as soon as I figure out how to. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I'm totally inspired by Maggie Mason from &lt;a href="http://mightygirl.net/"&gt;Mighty Girl.&lt;/a&gt; I love that she is not afraid to dream big and put it out there for the world to see. I love that she wants to hold herself accountable for the things she dreams big to accomplish. And for that I am inspired to do the same.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34417572-2789383805839928750?l=preciousmonkey.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/feeds/2789383805839928750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34417572&amp;postID=2789383805839928750' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/2789383805839928750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/2789383805839928750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/2009/06/mighty-life-inspired-by-mighty-girl.html' title='Mighty Life -- Inspired by Mighty Girl'/><author><name>The Monkey's Momma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09507844845352683344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05730392126891280739'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34417572.post-4711847816813726079</id><published>2009-06-30T10:22:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-31T17:30:57.648-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Party like it's 2009</title><content type='html'>I'm planning a super fun birthday party for the Queen Monkey. I'm getting a Moonwalk. I'm not telling the kids until they see it. QM won't really know, but KM will. It's a little more for him then her. His birthday is in February and he'll never get to have one at his birthday. Just ordered the invatations. They turned out pretty cute. Man alive do I love &lt;a href="http://www.shutterfly.com/"&gt;Shutterfly!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love planning parties. I love having everyone over at our house. I love planning the menu. How much beer do we need? What kind of cake should we get? Decorations? Who to invite? Should we have a theme?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34417572-4711847816813726079?l=preciousmonkey.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/feeds/4711847816813726079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34417572&amp;postID=4711847816813726079' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/4711847816813726079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/4711847816813726079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/2009/06/party-like-its-2009.html' title='Party like it&apos;s 2009'/><author><name>The Monkey's Momma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09507844845352683344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05730392126891280739'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34417572.post-1826388985253339323</id><published>2009-06-29T14:39:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-29T16:00:20.732-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Husbands'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Babies'/><title type='text'>Love Your Love The Most.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L7gbtQSFz4Q"&gt;Love Your Love The Most:  Justin Moore&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I Love Sleeping In On Saturdays&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I Love Vikings Football Games&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I Love Not Acting My Age&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And A Good &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Barbecue&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah I'm A Fan Of Bernstein Books&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Anything My Mama Cooks&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Loud Mouth Kids Have Got Me Hooked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Sunday Afternoon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes I Love Good Cold Beer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Ketchup On My Fries&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I Love A Good Loud Honky &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Tonk&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That Rocks On Friday Night&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Hell Yes I Love My Truck&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I Want You To Know&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honey I Love Your Love The Most&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man I Love How &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Marlboro's&lt;/span&gt; Taste&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Damn I Love My Morning Race&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Any Song Sung By George Strait&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is Country At It's Best&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes I Love Good Cold Beer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Ketchup On My Fries&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I Love A Good Loud Honky &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Tonk&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That Rocks On Friday Night&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Hell Yes I Love My Truck&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I Want You To Know&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honey I Love Your Love The Most&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I Love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah I Love Scuffed Up Working Boots&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Broke In Tore Up Jeans&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Four Wheel Drive&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eight Hundred Bucks&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Mint Chip Ice Cream&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Hell Yes I Love My Kids&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Captain In My Coke&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But Honey I Love Your Love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah I Love Your Love yeah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I Love Your Love The Most&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34417572-1826388985253339323?l=preciousmonkey.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/feeds/1826388985253339323/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34417572&amp;postID=1826388985253339323' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/1826388985253339323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/1826388985253339323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/2009/06/love-your-love-most.html' title='Love Your Love The Most.'/><author><name>The Monkey's Momma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09507844845352683344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05730392126891280739'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34417572.post-5928398841550375815</id><published>2009-06-24T17:13:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-24T17:29:52.289-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><title type='text'>This is my new favorite song.</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/4_NOaiQLl6U&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/4_NOaiQLl6U&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is kind of how I feel about the way I grew up. I feel like you couldn't ask for a better place to grow up then in a small town. This is part of the reason we decided to move back to where Husband and I grew up. We are living in a town, that is not a lot larger people wise, but much more metro then where we grew up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is why we put our house up for sale. We want our kids to grow up the way we grew up. We think it makes you a hard worker, teaches you the value of things. It's a different experience growing up in the country with chores to do and having to find your own fun. We want this for our own kids. We will do everything we can to show them what it looks like to grow up like mom and dad did. There's more room to run and ride bikes, to dig in the dirt and help mow the lawn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully, they will bale hay and know what it feels like to put in a good hard days work. I'm sure you can accomplish this in the city, or even a suburb, but I didn't grow up like that and I don't know what that would look like. Going back to &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FRVzuimxrCY&amp;amp;feature=related"&gt;Where I Come From.&lt;/a&gt; ( I don't know any of the people in this video, but it feels like this where I come from.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34417572-5928398841550375815?l=preciousmonkey.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/feeds/5928398841550375815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34417572&amp;postID=5928398841550375815' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/5928398841550375815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/5928398841550375815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/2009/06/this-is-my-new-favorite-song.html' title='This is my new favorite song.'/><author><name>The Monkey's Momma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09507844845352683344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05730392126891280739'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34417572.post-8527768159995477935</id><published>2009-06-17T16:29:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-24T17:11:33.907-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sick Baby'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Babies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='QM'/><title type='text'>Home Again Home Again Jiggity Jig</title><content type='html'>We had another whorl wind weekend out of town. We drove down Friday night and had a few beers on the way. And by a few I mean we had to stop 2 times. Auntie and Uncle &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;CRat&lt;/span&gt; rode down with us. The 3 hour drive turned in to about a 5 1/2 hour drive. We had ourselves a really good time. The only problem is we didn't know we needed to be up and ready at 9 am to make it to the dairy breakfast. 7am came very early.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got up and got ready. Didn't really think about the days events because Auntie and I wore flip flops to the farm. We are not that city. We did, after all, grow up on a farm. Lucky for us it was a nice day out and not muddy. We hit the diary breakfast, checked out the cows, looked around the farm and took a hay ride. Queen Monkey fell asleep before the hay ride and King Monkey nearly didn't go. He was getting &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;bucky&lt;/span&gt;. After standing in line for far too long it was our turn and worth the wait. KM had lots of fun. It was beautiful day out. The sun was shining, there were hardly any clouds in the sky, more fresh air then we've had in a long time and all the family togetherness we could want. After the dairy breakfast we went over to &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Luan&lt;/span&gt; &amp;amp; Tony's house. They also have a large dairy farm. We spent some time with the new born calf's and feed the 3-6 month old calf's. KM was a very good helper. He had to count out 6 scoops then dump it, then 6 more scoops then dump. QM spent some time playing in the dirt while Auntie took some pictures. She ate a few handfuls. She played in the straw, in the grass, and let the cows lick her. We went for a ranger ride around the farm and saw most of the acreage he farms. It was just nice to be outside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we got back up by the house, we grabbed some water and played outside some more. KM wanted to golf so he hit some balls around the yard, but lucky for us it was &lt;em&gt;far&lt;/em&gt; past nap time so it was really pleasant being near him. We kind of realized what time it was so we headed back in to town to get ready. But on the way we actually realized what time it was (Husband didn't read his watch correctly the first time) and we had about a hour more than we thought we had before we had to be to the reception. So we hit &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;DQ&lt;/span&gt; for chili dogs and then went back to the hotel and took a little snooze. By the time we got up we were a little pressed for time. Thank goodness that we had extra hands to help get the kids ready for the reception. Man O' Man were they cute. I put them in their Easter outfits. Almost all of the people at the reception had not seen them yet (only the people that came with us had).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As soon as we got there it was time to eat (I said we were running behind). So we pretty much jumped in line. Got our food and sat down. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Eating&lt;/span&gt; was very interesting. QM didn't want to stay put. She didn't want to sit on my lap and I didn't have anywhere else to put her. So I'd set her down on the floor for a while then chase her, pick her up, bring her back to the table, lather, rinse, repeat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;eating&lt;/span&gt;, there was a little lull until the DJ started. A bunch of kids were on the dance floor playing together. KM wanted to join in but was being a little shy. He was watching them closely, but wouldn't venture out there on his own. We had a walker with us that must have come over on the &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mayflower"&gt;Mayflower&lt;/a&gt;. It was mine and Uncle J's when we were little. (We had found it a month earlier when cleaning at Grandma's house.) So I set QM in the walker on the dance floor and before I knew it KM had pushed her in to the middle of the kids. Instant friends. They all played together. Eventually QM had had her fill of being couped up in the walker so I took her out and set her down to crawl. She crawled across the dance floor and by the time she got to the other side she had quite the following. It was like she was the &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pied_Piper"&gt;Pied Piper&lt;/a&gt;. They all followed her where ever she crawled to, all around the dance floor. She was a great ice breaker for him. It was cute to see them exploring the new friends together as a team. Hopefully they will be this great team for years to come. Helping each other through the scary things in life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere along the weekend I had almost completely lost my voice. We left for the reception on a Friday, but the Wednesday and Thursday prior I had to make a mad dash to Gillette, Wyoming to drop some stuff for work. I had spent 20.5 hours in a truck alone driving across South Dakota and back. What's a girl to do but sing out loud as loud as I could to myself to help pass the time. It was a fun trip but kind of long by yourself. So at the reception Husband asked me if I wanted to go and smoke. I told him no because my throat hurt a little and I figured they weren't helping much. My aunt heard me say no and said "most wife's would give anything to dance with their husbands, so when he asks you to dance, you should go." I told her he didn't ask me to dance, but to go smoke instead. She had a puzzled look on her face and wasn't about to tell me to go do that with him (she really doesn't like smoking). Plus when ever we went outside to smoke, I'd try to talk and it sounded like I had been smoking 3 packs a day for 150 years, and Husband would make fun of my voice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KM was running low, he didn't have a nap all day. When Husband and I took a little snooze, he spent that time running back and forth between the rooms, not napping. He did pretty good considering, but had a few moments of total melt down. Eventually he just crawled into the stroller and fell asleep. QM was about the same. No real melt downs for her but as soon as she fell asleep we pretty much had to pack it in for the night. Which was okay. We had really out done ourselves the night before and I was totally ready for bed. QM had slept with &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Amma&lt;/span&gt; the night before so now it was my turn for her to sleep with me. That was super awesome until she fell out of bed at about 5 am. Mother &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;instincts&lt;/span&gt; kicked in but a little late. I had scooped her up by the scruff of her &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;jammies&lt;/span&gt; before she had even started crying, but she still hit the floor. REAL NICE MOM. I'll try harder next time. I'm not used to her sleeping with me and I was really tired so any moving around she did, I didn't feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got up the next morning and packed up. Headed back out to Tony and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Luan's&lt;/span&gt; for about an hour. We had to see the baby calf's one more time. It was another beautiful day out. So we walked the farm a bit more then headed for home. The kids went with &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Amma&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Wendowin&lt;/span&gt; (as KM calls her). They had a made a bee line for the farm on the way down. Didn't stop to smell the roses like we did. So on the way back they decided to take the scenic route. They hit a couple scenic over looks. Stopped and got some strawberries, had a some &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;sammiches&lt;/span&gt; in a park then headed for the hills.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once they got back home, we cooked up some dinner, fed &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Amma&lt;/span&gt; and sent her on her way home. It had been a long weekend, but a really fun one. We had lots of good family fun. As they get older, it will only get better. Looking forward to the next road trip.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34417572-8527768159995477935?l=preciousmonkey.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/feeds/8527768159995477935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34417572&amp;postID=8527768159995477935' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/8527768159995477935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/8527768159995477935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/2009/06/home-again-home-again-jiggity-jig.html' title='Home Again Home Again Jiggity Jig'/><author><name>The Monkey's Momma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09507844845352683344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05730392126891280739'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34417572.post-1723215799056690257</id><published>2009-06-09T12:24:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-09T13:24:33.385-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><title type='text'>Things I Want</title><content type='html'>&lt;ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;a huge lilac bush in my yard&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;a garden full of fresh fruits and vegitables&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;to be skinnier -- actually to be in better shape, if skinnier comes with that, great. Mostly a flatter stomach.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;to write a book -- not really sure what about, I suppose kids or parenting.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;a lower mortgage payment&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;a pedicure every month&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;a hot tub&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;a crafting room full of all the organizing things a girl could want. I have the room, but want the organizers.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;time to work on sewing, I'd like to sell some stuff, but haven't made the time to sew it.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;a completed scrap book&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;to know it's okay to take time to do some of the things I want to do (i.e. scrapbooking, sewing, reading, writing...)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;a nap&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;to watch all 10 seasons of Friends in one sitting (or maybe one weekend)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;to take more pictures and have more taken (by Auntie) of the kids.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;to have a wall of family pictures&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;to travel to Washington (State and DC)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;(You would think Time and Money would be on the list, but who doesn't want more of both so I'm skipping them.)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34417572-1723215799056690257?l=preciousmonkey.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/feeds/1723215799056690257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34417572&amp;postID=1723215799056690257' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/1723215799056690257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/1723215799056690257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/2009/06/things-i-want.html' title='Things I Want'/><author><name>The Monkey's Momma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09507844845352683344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05730392126891280739'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34417572.post-1614070180020329097</id><published>2009-06-08T13:33:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-08T14:17:24.240-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Babies'/><title type='text'>Yawn.</title><content type='html'>I'm in a very Blah kind of mood today.  I think it's both the weather and the lack of rest from the weekend.  We were at a wedding (I was also in the wedding) about 4 hours from home.  Lots of beer (LOTS OF BEER) and little sleep make for a long weekend.  I think I just needed a few more hours of sleep and then I'd be better. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Queen Monkey is getting cuter by the minute.  Now when she talks and laughs and smiles you can see her 2 cute little teeth.  They are poking out far enough to see them.  King Monkey went with Auntie and Uncle C to see "UP" yesterday.  They went to eat before the movie and he ate a lot.  Then he needed pop-porn at the theatre.  Then Uncle C spilled the pop-porn so they had to go and get more  pop-porn and also a Ring Pop.  He had a great time.  Auntie said she cried at the children's movie.  She's a mess.  But we still love her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So since I've had my fill of being awake today, I'm going to wrap this up and go crawl under my desk for a nap.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34417572-1614070180020329097?l=preciousmonkey.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/feeds/1614070180020329097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34417572&amp;postID=1614070180020329097' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/1614070180020329097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/1614070180020329097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/2009/06/yawn.html' title='Yawn.'/><author><name>The Monkey's Momma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09507844845352683344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05730392126891280739'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34417572.post-8680899916662746546</id><published>2009-06-02T15:38:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T17:42:10.736-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Husbands'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Babies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='QM'/><title type='text'>These Robeez were made for walking.</title><content type='html'>Last night Queen Monkey took some of her very first steps.  She'd stepped back and forth from me to almost anyone.  Those were only about one step then someone would catch her. But last night, she was taking a few steps between Husband and I.  Oh the pride!  I know almost every kid in the history of kids has done this, but last night I felt like those were the first steps taken EVER!  They were so very magical.  So calculated, and yet not. So tipsy, and falling forward, and looking to be caught by the other parent.  &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Every time&lt;/span&gt; she would get to Husband, I would clap and cheer and hoot and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;holler&lt;/span&gt;.  King Monkey was there helping, but got slightly discouraged when they bonked heads.  We'd yell YEAH and then quickly spin her around to push her in the other direction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know why this time I'm in more of a hurry to get her to each next phase of life.  Maybe because I know how much better each phase gets.  I don't want her to hurry up and grow up, yet I so very much do.  I want her to be my baby forever, but I know that doesn't happen.  I guess I'm just going to have to savor every moment. Take more pictures and videos, I've been slacking a bit lately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She makes my heart burst when I see her.  And so does KM for that matter.  When I get to daycare to pick them up, every day KM runs to me and jumps in to my arms.  He misses me so much.  And every day when I get there QM sits where ever she is and kicks her legs and smiles the biggest smile, sometimes &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;squealing&lt;/span&gt;, sometimes&lt;em&gt; talking&lt;/em&gt; until I pick her up, but she is always smiling.  They are so happy to see me, and I am so very happy to see them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;QM makes noises like &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Bevis&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Butthead&lt;/span&gt;. It's a grunting noise and she does it &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;a lot&lt;/span&gt;.  We laugh every time.  She also likes to hit her chubby little paw on everything and talk to us.  I like to call her Chub-A-&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Riffic&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;KM's&lt;/span&gt; new saying is "You have a Situation that needs Imagination... Brain Storm!"  I ask him quite frequently, "Are you having a situation?" Then he replies with the former.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every day I look forward to the things they say and do, even if The Pink One was up all night long whining and crying for no &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;apparent&lt;/span&gt; reason, after being fed and she was sleepy and given everything she could possibly want or need at 3 am.  I still love them even in the dead of night, especially in the dead of night. Looking forward to another sleepless night, and I wouldn't want it any other way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34417572-8680899916662746546?l=preciousmonkey.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/feeds/8680899916662746546/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34417572&amp;postID=8680899916662746546' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/8680899916662746546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/8680899916662746546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/2009/06/these-robeez-were-made-for-walking.html' title='These Robeez were made for walking.'/><author><name>The Monkey's Momma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09507844845352683344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05730392126891280739'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34417572.post-8321301652459054577</id><published>2009-05-27T13:16:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-27T14:28:08.239-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><title type='text'>Not to be too topical or anything</title><content type='html'>I think it's pure bullshit that California did &lt;a href="http://firstread.msnbc.msn.com/archive/2009/05/26/1944075.aspx"&gt;this.&lt;/a&gt;  Why is it up to anyone else who you marry?  Why is marrying between a man and a woman?  When everyone is for separation of church and state, than why do they bring the church and the bible and their Gods and their scriptures to something that has nothing to do with any one's beliefs.  It's about equal rights.  It's about being treated as equal to those men and women who are allowed to marry.  It's about being treated as more than a second class citizen. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't have any gay friends, am not close to anyone who is gay.  I know some people, have met some people who are gay.  I think it's up to you to chose who you want to be with. Why should I or anyone else get a say in that?  I didn't ask for &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;any one's&lt;/span&gt; opinion in my marriage.  And even though I didn't ask, I would have been super pissed if someone tried to tell me who I can and can not marry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not up to us to determine who you can be with. I just think that California did a very bad thing.  They want to be a progressive state, they want to attract to all races, creeds, all sexes.  You just pissed off a lot of people and will pay for this.  One way or another, this will hurt you as a state California.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Equal rights means equal rights.  Plain and simple.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34417572-8321301652459054577?l=preciousmonkey.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/feeds/8321301652459054577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34417572&amp;postID=8321301652459054577' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/8321301652459054577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/8321301652459054577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/2009/05/not-to-be-too-topical-or-anything.html' title='Not to be too topical or anything'/><author><name>The Monkey's Momma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09507844845352683344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05730392126891280739'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34417572.post-6852267836896513024</id><published>2009-05-26T12:04:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-26T15:25:21.244-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Husbands'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Traditions'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Babies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='QM'/><title type='text'>Like Cats and Dogs</title><content type='html'>The kids have been extra cute lately. KM has been so helpful with QM and playing with her, and carrying her around. Taking dangerous things from her and giving her more appropriate toys. But they fight. Well, he tries to play and she fights. She pulls his hair, and he cries. She crawls over to him, then crawls on him trying to get what he has. If her tries to help her, or move her or protect her, she screams. She throws her fists down to the floor, sits up a little straighter and she screams. She yells at him and makes lots of noise. You know it's completely directed at him because she stares at him the whole time she's yelling. If he moves, she turns her head to yell at him some more. She is really starting to communicate her dislike.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They do play very well together too. He will help her walk, and she will crawl everywhere he goes. He shares his toys and will even help pick up after her. If he is on the bed, she wants to be on the bed, but also, he WANTS her to be on the bed. They are such great friends, and I hope it stays this way. I know they will have their fights, but I want them to like each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KM has been a little sensitive lately. "You love QM more than me. You don't love me." He thinks we play with her more and love her more. So I told him that we would have a special date, just me, him and daddy. We would all go golfing. But that too was the wrong answer. I told him that we'd take him golfing and QM would stay at &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Amma's&lt;/span&gt;. "BUT I'LL MISS MY SISTER," he howled/cried. Can't win for losing. (To be honest, I have no idea what this term means. I looked it up &lt;a href="http://www.ask.com/bar?q=What+Does+the+Phrase+Can%27t+Win+for+Losing+Mean&amp;amp;page=1&amp;amp;qsrc=6&amp;amp;ab=0&amp;amp;u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.phrases.org.uk%2Fbulletin_board%2F13%2Fmessages%2F942.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt; and I still don't think it makes any sense, but am leaving it anyway.) We did end up going golfing and had a great time. He didn't even miss his sister (at least not that we heard about.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was such a busy weekend, but we did have some time for fun. Saturday we did some chores around the house. Husband did some yard work (mowing weed whipping etc.) I cleaned the highchair, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;car seat&lt;/span&gt; and 2 strollers. Washed them on the deck and washed the straps and covers in the washer. They were in really bad shape and needed an overhaul. After that was all done we took a nap, then Husband and I went grocery shopping while &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Amma&lt;/span&gt; (oh, lovely &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Amma&lt;/span&gt;, how I love you let me count the ways..) watched the Monkey's. $210.00 later, we left the grocery store. BLAST. Then we went home and made a feast (at 8:00 at night). We made ribs on the grill, corn on the cob -- &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt; really that was all we made, but it was &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;DELICIOUS&lt;/span&gt;! Then we cleaned up dinner and watched &lt;em&gt;Swing Vote &lt;/em&gt;and &lt;em&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Valkyrie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;em&gt;Swing Vote&lt;/em&gt; was much better than &lt;em&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Valkyrie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday, we got up and Husband and I went to Great Clips to get our hair cut.  Normally we don't go there. But we were &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;desperate&lt;/span&gt;.  We both needed a hair cut really bad.  Then we stopped and got some hair dye for &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Amma&lt;/span&gt;, went home and did her up good. :o)  Then &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Amma&lt;/span&gt; and KM left and Husband, QM and I took a nap.  It was really nice. After &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;nap time&lt;/span&gt; we got ready quick and went to a graduation party.  Met &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Amma&lt;/span&gt; and KM there.  She took the kids home and Husband and I stayed to have some more beers and we ended up going out with some of my cousins.  It was very good times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monday, we got up early thanks to Husband being a pest.  We took a trip home for showers and golf clubs then picked up KM and met my cousins at the golf course.  We had a great time.  It was a bit on the windy side, but warm and good to be outside, working off our hangover.  KM is a pretty good golfer.  When he makes contact he can really hit the ball.  I think he likes the driver (the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;screwer&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_14" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;screwer&lt;/span&gt;) the best.  He was very patient and listened very well to all the golf rules I was trying to teach him.  One little melt down, he threw his club and ball on the ground and said "I QUIT."  He was mad that daddy had driven the cart without him.  I got that settled down and promised that he could drive next time and the rest of the day went beautifully.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like weekends like this one.  We did a lot as a family and had a great time.  Sometimes I feel like we are all going in different directions and don't spend much time together.   This was one of those weekends that restores the faith I have in our family.  The kind of weekend that reminds you that you have it pretty good and that you wouldn't want it any other way.  Even with the Pink One and the Blue One fight like cats and dogs.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34417572-6852267836896513024?l=preciousmonkey.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/feeds/6852267836896513024/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34417572&amp;postID=6852267836896513024' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/6852267836896513024'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/6852267836896513024'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/2009/05/like-cats-and-dogs.html' title='Like Cats and Dogs'/><author><name>The Monkey's Momma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09507844845352683344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05730392126891280739'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34417572.post-8385382610252663839</id><published>2009-05-14T17:21:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-14T17:36:40.409-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Babies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='QM'/><title type='text'>So Little Time</title><content type='html'>I have been aching to blog lately but just can't find the time to put fingers to keyboard.  Queen Monkey got her first tooth this week and it has been pure hell.  Well, I shouldn't say that (but see how I did anyways), she is great during the day.  The part of the day when I am not with her.  The part of the day she spends at daycare, in other peoples care with her Company Manners on.  Then once I pick her up there is lots of pathetic whining in the car, then yelling when we get home, then more yelling at dinner time, some sqeaking at the table, some fussing and then eventually some sleep.  But then between the sleep and the getting up, there is lots and LOTS of screaming bloody murder at the top of her lungs in the middle of the night, then short naps, 10-15 mins worth, then more shreeking.  I feel bad for her I really do.  She is in some serious pain, and no Tylenol or Ora-Jel can fix it.  Plus it's my fault really.  I've been wishing these damn teeth on her for quite a while now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night was pretty good actually.  She slept all night, but the night before and the night before that sucked donkey balls to put it politely.  I was a walking zombie yesterday at work. I felt like I hadn't gotten any sleep at all.  When she finally did fall asleep it was only when snuggled right up next to me in the crook of my arm and only for short periods. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's chewing on EVERYTHING.  It's kind of funny too.  She will pick up the most random thing to chew on, like a tape measure, and it really is the most preferred teething ring.  She set other things down to go across the room to pick it up to sit and chew on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully these painful days will be short lived.  I hate to see her so sad and unhappy.  I especially hate to see me so sleepy. :o)  Like they say with everything, this too shall pass.  Until then, I'm keeping a healthy supply of tape measures around.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34417572-8385382610252663839?l=preciousmonkey.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/feeds/8385382610252663839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34417572&amp;postID=8385382610252663839' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/8385382610252663839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/8385382610252663839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/2009/05/so-little-time.html' title='So Little Time'/><author><name>The Monkey's Momma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09507844845352683344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05730392126891280739'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34417572.post-8935429389077635473</id><published>2009-04-28T11:57:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-28T16:55:26.524-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Learning to Talk'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Babies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Little Rascal'/><title type='text'>Broken</title><content type='html'>Lately KM has taken to telling us that his arms and legs are broken. He won't do anything that he is told, at least not the first time he is asked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KM can you go and get your jammies on?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My arms and wegs are broken. (Shit eating grin, slides across face.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok then, how about I set you outside in the rain and we'll see if you can get back inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok I'll go put them on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's his first excuse for anything and everything he doesn't want to do.  He can't eat his dinner, he can't get ready for bed, he can give me a hug and a kiss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday it was frustrating me to no end (well, he was all day, not just the comments). Finally I looked at Amma and asked where does he get this stuff?  Where did he learn that? She said, probably us, and the light bulb went on.  WE. WE taught him that.  We are the ones who ask him if his legs are broken when he doesn't do what he's told to do the second he's told to do it.  We are the ones who ask if his arms are broken when he won't hug me.  We are the idiots that put those ideas in his head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's funny to watch him too when he says it.  You know he's full of bullshit.  He's clearly standing there on non-broken legs, usually holding something in his non-broken arms, telling me with a shit eating grin sliding across his face, in a tone of I Really Wish I Could Help You Out But I Have To Wash My Hair.  But my arms and wegs are broken.  So since we are being outlandish, I try to come up with the most outlandish thing I can think of too.  "Then I will ship you to the moon, and leave you there."  Of course he always starts laughing, I tend to be a bit sarcastic anyways.  "You're dist kidding."  Yup, buddy, I'm just kidding. I will ship you to the moon and leave you there, but I'll probably come and visit.  Maybe.  At the very least I'll send your blankie with.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34417572-8935429389077635473?l=preciousmonkey.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/feeds/8935429389077635473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34417572&amp;postID=8935429389077635473' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/8935429389077635473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/8935429389077635473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/2009/04/broken.html' title='Broken'/><author><name>The Monkey's Momma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09507844845352683344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05730392126891280739'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34417572.post-4304846948977125967</id><published>2009-04-27T17:30:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-27T17:30:38.651-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I think it time.</title><content type='html'>I think it&amp;#39;s almost time to come out of hiding and maybe tell the family about this blog. First I need to go back thru the post to be sure they&amp;#39;ll still talk to me if they read them.   I may have said some things in the heat of the moment.  But can&amp;#39;t quite remember.  &lt;br&gt;Sent from my BlackBerry&amp;#174; smartphone with Nextel Direct Connect&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34417572-4304846948977125967?l=preciousmonkey.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/feeds/4304846948977125967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34417572&amp;postID=4304846948977125967' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/4304846948977125967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/4304846948977125967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-think-it-time.html' title='I think it time.'/><author><name>The Monkey's Momma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09507844845352683344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05730392126891280739'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34417572.post-6044003556234769598</id><published>2009-04-27T17:17:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-27T17:25:34.946-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><title type='text'>Plan B</title><content type='html'>Been a rather slow day at work today.  My sister came down and had her brakes re-done in our shop.  Then I had some work errands to do, so she rode along with me.  We stopped and had lunch at the Olive Garden (It was lovely).  Then came back to the office and killed some time til her car was done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In  the mean time, my boss had called and asked me who called our mechanic in to work today.  I said I did, he's doing Auntie's brakes.  No response.  Then he called back a few minutes later and asked where I was and what I was doing.  I said lunch, we'll be done in about a half hour.  Again, no response.  I think he's bucky at me.  He waits until the last minute to tell me that he has things for me to do.  Sometimes, I can jump right on it, and other times I *gasp* make my own plans for the day.  I really don't care that he's a little bucky at me.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm nearing the end of my patience with this job.  The job is good, my boss couldn't be a better guy.  He's very understanding and accomodating.  When I need time off, it's no problem.  My problem with the job is mostly my own.  I want to be able to do things with the Monkey's when I want to do them.  I want more freedom to come and go as I see fit in my family.  I'm tired of working for someone else.  I want to work for me and my family.  Don't get me wrong, I am happy to be employed and making ok money.  But I have much more potential for something greater.  I'm biding my time right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It will happen. These things take time. I'm already working on my plan B.  I am hoping and planning for that by the end of July, I'll be doing my own thing.  What I want, when I want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's to dreaming the dream and making it happen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34417572-6044003556234769598?l=preciousmonkey.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/feeds/6044003556234769598/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34417572&amp;postID=6044003556234769598' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/6044003556234769598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/6044003556234769598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/2009/04/plan-b.html' title='Plan B'/><author><name>The Monkey's Momma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09507844845352683344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05730392126891280739'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34417572.post-7198973668733072499</id><published>2009-04-23T16:03:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-23T16:24:52.742-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Traditions'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Babies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='QM'/><title type='text'>You thought my house was clean before!</title><content type='html'>So we had a showing a few weeks ago. Their realtor thought our house was "cluttered". It may have been a bit, but we weren't expecting showings for at least another week from the day she came and we only had a few hours notice. Husband ran home, picked up best he could and we waited. She told her client about our house and said she'd get back to us. That was a Tuesday. On Thursday afternoon we found out that HE (the potential) homeowner was flying up from Arizona to look at our house. DE-CLUTTER TO THE HILT we were told. So I called in for reinforcements. MOM, if I ever had any favors with you I NEED TO USE THEM ALL RIGHT NOW. She came after work on Thursday and stayed the night. Her and Husband cleaned and cleaned and organized and de-cluttered all day on Friday. I got home about 7 after dropping off the Monkey's and working, and got to work on the house doing my fair share. Mom and I were up til 3 am. Then back up again at 8.30 to be sure we had it all done before 11.30 when he was getting there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We left our house in search of something to do. We stopped at a friends and had a beer, then went to my mom's house so she could change clothes. Remember, she'd been at our place since Thursday after work with no change of clothes. Then we went to get something to eat then back home. We waited and waited and waited and waited. I went to get Queen Monkey from Gupa's house, and came back. Then our realtor came over to pick up some paperwork. We finally got an email from their realtor. They didn't think our lot was the size we said (the size the SURVEYOR said), they liked the craftsmanship, but whatever, they weren't putting in an offer. SAD.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since then we had one more showing, yesterday. I was home with the kids so it worked out okay. Queen Monkey has a case of Pink Eye. Since we didn't start the drops till Tuesday around 7 pm, we weren't allowed to daycare until today. It was actually really nice. It was a nice day out yesterday. I had plenty of time to pick up the house while QM napped and KM watched a movie. No rushing around. I packed up a bag and off to the park we went. We had to be gone from 3-4 pm for the showing. We we got back from the park and our walk, there was no card left at our house. I'm not even sure if they ever did come to look at it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It really hasn't been that hard to keep the house clean since the MAJOR.OVERHAUL.OF.2009. We have been picking up more after ourselves since we never know when we'll have a showing and it's easier for Husband to do a quick run thru than to clean the whole house. The basement rarely sees the light of day so usually it's only a few rooms that need attention. It's also sort of forced us in to better habits, of doing the dishes every night, and keeping the rooms much cleaner than usual.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other major happenings over the past few weeks:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;QM has learned to sit up by herself&lt;br /&gt;Then she learned how to crawl (it's so mechanical and cute, she looks like one of those baby dolls you buy in a store. It's so very rigid.)&lt;br /&gt;Then she learned to pull her self up to standing by the furniture&lt;br /&gt;Then she learned to crawl up the step from the sunken living room into the entry way or the kitchen (Time for the baby gate.)&lt;br /&gt;Now she follows us around the house where ever we go, she crawls and whines (just a little bit, a sorry, pitiful whine that says, Stop and Wait for ME! Boo Hoo Hoo, hoo hoo hoo. It's actually kind of sweet in it's saddness.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So until the house sells we are in a Hurry Up and Wait situation and I.HATE.THAT.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34417572-7198973668733072499?l=preciousmonkey.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/feeds/7198973668733072499/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34417572&amp;postID=7198973668733072499' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/7198973668733072499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/7198973668733072499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/2009/04/you-thought-my-house-was-clean-before.html' title='You thought my house was clean before!'/><author><name>The Monkey's Momma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09507844845352683344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05730392126891280739'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34417572.post-4757936103637075935</id><published>2009-04-23T15:56:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-23T16:03:14.625-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sick Baby'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pictures'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Babies'/><title type='text'>We went to the park with pink eye.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_98HJnWkd5MI/SfDJSzJhXvI/AAAAAAAAADc/26M_lOW8it4/s1600-h/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDAwNDMtMjAwOTA0MjItMTUxMy5qcGc%3D%3F%3D-739785"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_98HJnWkd5MI/SfDJSzJhXvI/AAAAAAAAADc/26M_lOW8it4/s320/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDAwNDMtMjAwOTA0MjItMTUxMy5qcGc%3D%3F%3D-739785"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327979683984269042" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Sent from my BlackBerry&amp;#174; smartphone with Nextel Direct Connect&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34417572-4757936103637075935?l=preciousmonkey.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/feeds/4757936103637075935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34417572&amp;postID=4757936103637075935' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/4757936103637075935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/4757936103637075935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/2009/04/we-went-to-park-with-pink-eye.html' title='We went to the park with pink eye.'/><author><name>The Monkey's Momma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09507844845352683344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05730392126891280739'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_98HJnWkd5MI/SfDJSzJhXvI/AAAAAAAAADc/26M_lOW8it4/s72-c/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDAwNDMtMjAwOTA0MjItMTUxMy5qcGc%3D%3F%3D-739785' 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-34417572.post-13831074201460618</id><published>2009-03-31T13:03:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-31T14:47:52.755-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Husbands'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Babies'/><title type='text'>Reasons to Smile</title><content type='html'>Lately I have a lot of things to smile about.  The Monkey's are great.  Our house is nice and clean (thanks to us putting it up on the market). Which brings me to another reason to smile, we will (hopefully soon) be without our house payment, or with a smaller one.  We decided to sell our house and build a new one.  The house is just fine, and their is plenty of room, but the lot is (by our standards) small.  It's about an acre in size and this is enough room for out door activities, it is not enough room for my husband to put up a shop.  He builds cabinets out of our garage and it's driving him and I nuts.  It's not nearly big enough for such jobs, and therefore, pushes us over the edge of Time.To.Move.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we moved into this house 2 and half years ago, we knew we wouldn't stay forever.  Our house has a great layout and all the features one could want.  I hope that it sells quickly.  But then again I don't.  I haven't mentally prepared for moving.  We have A LOT of stuff.  It's fairly organized and quite a bit of it is already boxed up.  Oh, but the stuff that isn't.  Kitchen's, and pantry's and closet's OH MY!  ***(As I sat and typed this, Husband called and there is a showing today at our house.  A family of 6 (we have 5 bedrooms), their other house fell thru, their kids are already enrolled in our school district.  They told their realtor "BUY THAT HOUSE."  Totally keeping my fingers crossed that it sells. They said they could close as early as May 15th -- Trying not to JINX this whole thing!!!!!)***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've (We've) also started a new venture to bring in some extra funds.  Husband and I have really taken off with it.  It's going so great.  We've made back our small investment and already doubled it.  This makes me happy.  It's like getting paid to have fun.  I know that sounds silly but it really is the truth.  We are hanging out with our friends and making money doing it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was going to type more but now am TOO EXCITED to think even.  Plus I need to run some work errands.  Will update tomorrow!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34417572-13831074201460618?l=preciousmonkey.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/feeds/13831074201460618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34417572&amp;postID=13831074201460618' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/13831074201460618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/13831074201460618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/2009/03/reasons-to-smile.html' title='Reasons to Smile'/><author><name>The Monkey's Momma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09507844845352683344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05730392126891280739'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34417572.post-3768854540460287827</id><published>2009-03-18T17:32:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-18T17:37:17.630-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Babies'/><title type='text'>They're so beautiful.</title><content type='html'>It doesn't get any better than when you wake up in the morning and you get 2 smiling faces back at you.  Plus they are still smiling at each other.  It may not always be this way, but for right now they are the best of friends.  QM has some serious nose trouble when it comes to what anyone in the house is doing, but it is the WORST with KM.  No matter where he goes or what he does, she has to be able to see him.  She will look and look and watch and stare to get his every move down.  It's really, well to be honest, it's PRECIOUS.  Of course I don't remember doing this with my own brother at least not at the same age as her (she's 8 months remember).  But I do remember thinking my own brother was the coolest thing to walk the face of the planet.  At least for a while.  I tagged along and played and tried to be just like him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I love the most about the Monkey's is that KM is so very gentle with her and protective.  When she babbles to him and I ask him what she said, he always says something like "She loves me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't imagine having greater kids.  It's just such a wonderful feeling. (I know gross right, but it's true.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34417572-3768854540460287827?l=preciousmonkey.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/feeds/3768854540460287827/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34417572&amp;postID=3768854540460287827' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/3768854540460287827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/3768854540460287827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/2009/03/theyre-so-beautiful.html' title='They&apos;re so beautiful.'/><author><name>The Monkey's Momma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09507844845352683344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05730392126891280739'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34417572.post-3544003837968544033</id><published>2009-03-10T14:50:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-10T14:55:04.945-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>Life as a Digital Mom</title><content type='html'>Yeah, she finally put it up. And wouldn't you know it. I saw this, but didn't think it was the one she was one. OOPPS! Here is Heather Armstrong from Dooce.com&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;iframe height="339" width="425" src="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/22425001/vp/29594799#29594799" frameborder="0" scrolling="no"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;style type="text/css"&gt;.msnbcLinks {font-size:11px; font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; color: #999; margin-top: 5px; background: transparent; text-align: center; width: 425px;} .msnbcLinks a {text-decoration:none !important; border-bottom: 1px dotted #999 !important; font-weight:normal !important; height: 13px;} .msnbcLinks a:link, .msnbcLinks a:visited {color: #5799db !important;} .msnbcLinks a:hover, .msnbcLinks a:active {color:#CC0000 !important;} &lt;/style&gt;&lt;p class="msnbcLinks"&gt;Visit msnbc.com for &lt;a href="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/"&gt;Breaking News&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/3032507"&gt;World News&lt;/a&gt;, and &lt;a href="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/3032072"&gt;News about the Economy&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34417572-3544003837968544033?l=preciousmonkey.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/feeds/3544003837968544033/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34417572&amp;postID=3544003837968544033' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/3544003837968544033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/3544003837968544033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/2009/03/digital-moms.html' title='Life as a Digital Mom'/><author><name>The Monkey's Momma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09507844845352683344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05730392126891280739'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34417572.post-7643151414491336249</id><published>2009-03-10T13:59:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-10T14:38:45.969-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Learning to Talk'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Little Rascal'/><title type='text'>It's Raining It's Pouring The Old Man is Snoring... (otherwise known as I Can't Concentrate)</title><content type='html'>This morning on my way to work (WAY behind because of stupid daylight savings time) I was singing this song.  The way I sing in:  He bumped his head on an OLD LOG Bed and couldn't get up in the morning.  The way KM sings it: He bumped his head on A Bed, and couldn't get up in the morning.  Not really that different, but KM would not let me continue to sing it my way.  I had to change the words to his way.  He was &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;admit&lt;/span&gt; about it.  He can be so stubborn sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have done nearly nothing today at work.  It's hard to concentrate with the snow falling, then not falling, then check the weather, then see if it snowed more, then I'm hungry, check the radar etc.  We are in the business of snow plowing so when a storm is coming, we mostly spend our day waiting for it to get here so we can plow it away.  Plus the big project I need to get done this week is on hold until tomorrow as I need to round up some paperwork to complete it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pulled in to get gas this morning and KM tells me:  Another day, Another dollar. I asked him where he learned that, well of course Sponge Bob.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have also been hitting REFRESH on &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Dooce's&lt;/span&gt; website, about a hundred times between yesterday and today.  She was suppose to be on the Today show.  I missed it on TV and couldn't find the link on their website, so I'm waiting for her to post it on &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;hers&lt;/span&gt;.  Can you say &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;STOCKER&lt;/span&gt;?  Yep, thank you very much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We watched the new show &lt;a href="http://abc.go.com/primetime/castle/"&gt;CASTLE&lt;/a&gt; last night.  It was much better than I thought it would be.  I actually really go in to it.  I hate to start watching new shows.  At the rate they stick around these days, it seems like such a waste of time.  I was a big fan of &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0960136/"&gt;Dirty Sexy Money&lt;/a&gt;.  GONE.  I'm a big fan of &lt;a href="http://www.fox.com/lietome/"&gt;Lie To Me*&lt;/a&gt;.  I hope this sticks around too.  But chances are it won't because stupid people like stupid reality shows.  Don't get me wrong, I like my fair share of them too, but there are lots of good shows out there with actual writers instead of idiots trying to get their 15 minutes of shame, I mean fame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guess I should go and plan my escape.  It's too early to leave for the day, but I'm going to think of a reason to do just that.  Don't really feel like working.  We'll see how this ends up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34417572-7643151414491336249?l=preciousmonkey.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/feeds/7643151414491336249/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34417572&amp;postID=7643151414491336249' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/7643151414491336249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/7643151414491336249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/2009/03/its-raining-its-pouring-old-man-is.html' title='It&apos;s Raining It&apos;s Pouring The Old Man is Snoring... (otherwise known as I Can&apos;t Concentrate)'/><author><name>The Monkey's Momma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09507844845352683344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05730392126891280739'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34417572.post-6426775395372042953</id><published>2009-03-09T17:14:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-09T17:16:09.387-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pictures'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='QM'/><title type='text'>She holds the bottle funny.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_98HJnWkd5MI/SbWG2yg895I/AAAAAAAAADU/8-bJ1bPAFSY/s1600-h/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDAyMTItMjAwOTAzMDYtMjAwMi5qcGc%3D%3F%3D-707201"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311299611384412050" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_98HJnWkd5MI/SbWG2yg895I/AAAAAAAAADU/8-bJ1bPAFSY/s320/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDAyMTItMjAwOTAzMDYtMjAwMi5qcGc%3D%3F%3D-707201" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Sent from my BlackBerry® smartphone with Nextel Direct Connect&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34417572-6426775395372042953?l=preciousmonkey.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/feeds/6426775395372042953/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34417572&amp;postID=6426775395372042953' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/6426775395372042953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34417572/posts/default/6426775395372042953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://preciousmonkey.blogspot.com/2009/03/she-holds-bottle-funny.html' title='She holds the bottle funny.'/><author><name>The Monkey's Momma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09507844845352683344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05730392126891280739'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_98HJnWkd5MI/SbWG2yg895I/AAAAAAAAADU/8-bJ1bPAFSY/s72-c/%3D%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDAyMTItMjAwOTAzMDYtMjAwMi5qcGc%3D%3F%3D-707201' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry></feed>