<?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-3627270825930563218</id><updated>2009-10-20T07:31:57.617-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A Wise Ass Once Said...</title><subtitle type='html'>"I have always been among those who believed that the freedom of speech was the greatest safety, because if a man is a fool, the best thing to do is to encourage him to advertise the fact by speaking" - Woodrow Wilson</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>Maggie May</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00047964322884200472</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>227</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3627270825930563218.post-4029341612389217088</id><published>2009-09-09T10:30:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-09T10:39:24.531-06:00</updated><title type='text'>One last thing...</title><content type='html'>I can see lots of hits on my site meter that are from people I know, so I know you are still reading.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am only going to ask one favor...and obviously it isn't for me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My grandpa may be coming to visit you all in the fall, and he knows nothing about any of this.  I haven't told him because I don't want to put him in the position of having to chose between his daughter and granddaughter, and his nieces and nephews.  I know which choice he would make, but I am not selfish enough to ask him to.  I have no desire to take away his illusions of you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This may very well be his last visit.  I hope you can find it in your hearts to treat him kindly and fairly...even if this isn't a courtesy you can extend to the rest of us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope in this one thing you can prove to be the people I thought you were.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3627270825930563218-4029341612389217088?l=awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/feeds/4029341612389217088/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3627270825930563218&amp;postID=4029341612389217088' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/4029341612389217088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/4029341612389217088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/2009/09/one-last-thing.html' title='One last thing...'/><author><name>Maggie May</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00047964322884200472</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06567403496494386749'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3627270825930563218.post-7601094058508542882</id><published>2009-09-08T15:36:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-08T15:56:57.968-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Housekeeping</title><content type='html'>I wrote the post below this morning, only to discover that people I thought had long ago abandoned this blog were actually still lurking about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's fine. I learned the hard way not to post anything you wouldn't say to someone directly. I promised to never do it again, and I haven't. This post is no exception.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the purpose of moving to this blog was to be able to write without the fear of repercussion. I &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;trusted&lt;/span&gt; only a handful of individuals I know in real life with that information...only those I thought the very most trustworthy. I made a huge error in judgment by placing that trust in them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So soon I will be moving...AGAIN. And this time NO one I know in real life will be invited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But my invisible blog friends will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It will probably be a few weeks before I have time to get this move &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;accomplished&lt;/span&gt;. I will be in touch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to all of you who have been such good friends to me. It is sad when you can trust people you don't even know more than you can trust those you thought you did know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, that horse is dead dead dead, and buried. No more of that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I DON'T know you in real life, and you want to keep up with the new location of the blog, e-mail me at &lt;a href="mailto:awiseassoncesaid@yahoo.com"&gt;awiseassoncesaid@yahoo.com&lt;/a&gt;.  That e-mail will be in existence for a few more weeks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3627270825930563218-7601094058508542882?l=awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/feeds/7601094058508542882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3627270825930563218&amp;postID=7601094058508542882' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/7601094058508542882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/7601094058508542882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/2009/09/housekeeping.html' title='Housekeeping'/><author><name>Maggie May</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00047964322884200472</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06567403496494386749'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3627270825930563218.post-8613894131877383479</id><published>2009-09-08T12:49:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-08T15:35:42.701-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Hard Lessons</title><content type='html'>I have been quiet this summer. There has been so much happening, I have hardly had time to write things down. Also, I have been fairly introspective lately. Some things happened awhile back that started with the blog, but ended off of it...and ended badly, which have made writing anything significant a bit difficult for me. But I have some lingering feelings that need to be worked through, and there is no better forum. Here goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know a person, let's call him Zipper, that I do not care for. I have many things I could say about Zipper...things I have said to him directly, so to enumerate them here would not be talking behind his back. However, while he is at the start of this, this isn't really about him, so I will leave it at the basics...he exists and I don't like him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back in the spring, I posted something eluding to Zipper and my displeasure over some comments he made. My effort was intended to stick up for a guy named Biff, who I believed Zipper had wronged. Biff's brother (BB) was a regular reader of my blog at that time, but Biff was not. BB posted that he was concerned about the content of the post, and asked me to take it down. He was afraid that the post might cause trouble for Biff, who definitely did NOT need it. I took the post down, as I would never want to hurt Biff, or BB for that matter. Later I had a phone conversation with BB, a person whom I truly adored and trusted completely. In that conversation, BB shared with me some negative feelings and frustrations he had towards several other people. I understood he needed to get some of those feelings off his chest, and I tried to be a good friend to him by listening and empathizing where possible. He also asked me to tell him why I felt so negatively towards Zipper. I was reluctant to share for many reasons, but after BB assured me the information would go no further, I told BB why I felt the way I did about Zipper. The conversation ended with BB saying he hoped that Zipper was not guilty of some of the things I thought he was, but he now understood why I felt the way I do. I remember thinking how nice it was to have people to lean on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few weeks later, I received an e-mail from BB's wife (we'll call her Nancy). Nancy told me she had "done something that may or may not make [me] really mad at [her]." She had spoken to Zipper about the things I had told BB in confidence. She felt she needed to try and mend fences. Of course Zipper denied everything, and Nancy hoped that I would be able to just accept his word and we could all live happily ever after the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So many emotions followed, that I could not accurately catalog them here. At first, I was not angry, just stunned. See, I thought Nancy, bless her, was just being incredibly naive. While I did not spell this out above, suffice it to say things between Zipper and I had gone far beyond mending, and any simple denial on his part would never have been sufficient to convince me of his innocence in the face of my suspicions. I was surprised that Nancy couldn't see this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few hours later, I was hurt. I was hurt by what seemed to me was a betrayal of a confidence. As the days wore on, this feeling increased. I reread all of the correspondence from Nancy, and I was troubled by the absolute lack of the words "I'm sorry." They were no where. Her e-mails were full of &lt;em&gt;defenses&lt;/em&gt; for her choice to divulge my confidence to Zipper, but no apologies for doing so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course it wasn't long before Zipper weighed in with me, and I retaliated. Eventually Zipper's wife, Taboo, and my mom jumped in the fray, as they were peripherally involved all along. The mud was slung thick and fast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And during all of this, nary a word from BB, in whom I had placed my confidence in the first place. So finally, I called &lt;em&gt;him&lt;/em&gt;. So much of the damage had been done via e-mail, I thought we needed a direct conversation. I also thought maybe it was hard for him to reach out, seeing as how he was the one who ultimately had betrayed my trust. I asked him if he was aware of what was going on. I told him I was devastated by this betrayal. His response? "Nancy and I want to stay out of it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No apology for repeating something he promised not to repeat. Nothing even along the lines of "maybe I could have handled this differently" (which I find is a handy thing to say when I have to smooth things over, but don't feel an apology is in order).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just, "[We] want to stay out of it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh really? You want to stay out of it? Don't you mean NOW you want to stay out of it? NOW that you have disclosed something you promised would remain private you want to stay out of it? NOW that you have people waging war against one another, you want to stay out of it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh. Okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I remember THIS emotion quite clearly. It is called being PISSED OFF.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have known this man since I was born, and although we have lived apart our entire lives, I thought the time we did spend together had a forged a bond. I loved him. I trusted him. I believed he was a good, solid man. I believed he was my friend. I have never so badly misjudged someone's character in my entire life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't spoken to BB, Nancy, Zipper or Taboo since that day. As far as I am concerned, everyone had ample opportunity to say all they had to say...and some stuff they probably shouldn't have. There is no point in continuing. Nothing can be resolved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So why am I writing about this today, you ask?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I thought only the players directly involved in this little drama knew about it. I purposely did NOT post this blog months ago, because despite my broken heartedness over it, I did not want anyone else to know. Despite my ill will towards Zipper, I had no intention of trashing him to others. I never have, and I never will. I confided in one person only, and I had no intention of trumpeting HIS betrayal to everyone either. It was between us, and it would remain between us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But just this weekend I learned that this courtesy was not reciprocated. Apparently several others have been lobbied by Nancy's tall tales, which strangely enough paints her as the victim. Apparently, my little branch of the family is being vilified for not accepting Nancy's apology...an apology that was never tendered, by the way, but I guess that is besides the point. Not a single person has reached out and asked to hear our side of the story. They have basically said they don't care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One would think that nothing could surprise me now, and yet it does. One would think my armor would be up, and that these people could no longer cause me pain, but yet they can. One would think that some people can't sink any lower, and yet they do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now it occurs to me that I could retaliate. First of all, I have saved all of the e-mail exchanges between Nancy and I. I could forward those to everyone so they could see for themselves that she never apologized. They would also see some of the things &lt;em&gt;she&lt;/em&gt; said about others to me. I could go even further and disclose the things BB said on the phone to people who would have a vested interest in that information. I could tell Zipper some things he might be surprised to learn about others' involvement in things for which my family has taken the heat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh I CAN do all of those things. But I won't. Even though I never expressly promised to keep BB's secrets between us like he did, I &lt;em&gt;know&lt;/em&gt; when something is told to me in confidence. Besides, to reveal them would hurt other people I care about, and I would never want to do that on purpose, even under the guise of mending rifts. And I have seen Zipper's wrath first hand. I would never try to get back in his good graces (as if I could) by throwing someone else under the bus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It might make me look better to all those people out there who are judging me when they don't have all of the facts, but it wouldn't make me look better to that reflection in the mirror, and at the end of the day, that is all you have. I guess I was wrong to depend on anyone BUT that girl in the mirror. Hard lessons, but well learned.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3627270825930563218-8613894131877383479?l=awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/feeds/8613894131877383479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3627270825930563218&amp;postID=8613894131877383479' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/8613894131877383479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/8613894131877383479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/2009/09/hard-lessons.html' title='Hard Lessons'/><author><name>Maggie May</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00047964322884200472</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06567403496494386749'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3627270825930563218.post-1874684625056700652</id><published>2009-08-20T18:43:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-08-20T18:51:27.402-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Goodbye My Sweet Girl</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_12c8guOMRvU/So3va9gvffI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/dnaX3sfHESc/s1600-h/Magic.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372213176990399986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_12c8guOMRvU/So3va9gvffI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/dnaX3sfHESc/s320/Magic.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We finally did &lt;a href="http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/2009/08/that-old-black-magic.html"&gt;what we needed to do&lt;/a&gt; and it sucked hard. We are heartbroken. Rest in peace my sweet girl. You were the best dog ever, and we loved you. We miss you already.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3627270825930563218-1874684625056700652?l=awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/feeds/1874684625056700652/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3627270825930563218&amp;postID=1874684625056700652' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/1874684625056700652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/1874684625056700652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/2009/08/goodbye-my-sweet-girl.html' title='Goodbye My Sweet Girl'/><author><name>Maggie May</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00047964322884200472</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06567403496494386749'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_12c8guOMRvU/So3va9gvffI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/dnaX3sfHESc/s72-c/Magic.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3627270825930563218.post-3616394029071184192</id><published>2009-08-12T12:20:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-08-12T12:27:48.819-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy 1st Birthday, Grandson</title><content type='html'>Not that he reads this blog.  Or, uhm at ALL as far as that goes, but the sentiment is there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_12c8guOMRvU/SoMI2fpxPAI/AAAAAAAAAGI/6Rfe21feEiQ/s1600-h/2009+(Jan+to+April+15)+1006.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369144913058413570" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_12c8guOMRvU/SoMI2fpxPAI/AAAAAAAAAGI/6Rfe21feEiQ/s320/2009+(Jan+to+April+15)+1006.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This picture is a few months old, but I lost my camera case which contained the cable that allows me to upload from my camera to the computer, so this is all I've got right now. Deal.  He's still adorable, of course...not that I'm biased or anything.  No, not me.  He's just bigger now and has less hair since his first official hair cut last week.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway.  There it is.  Happy birthday, Little Man.  Coma loves you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3627270825930563218-3616394029071184192?l=awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/feeds/3616394029071184192/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3627270825930563218&amp;postID=3616394029071184192' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/3616394029071184192'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/3616394029071184192'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/2009/08/happy-1st-birthday-grandson.html' title='Happy 1st Birthday, Grandson'/><author><name>Maggie May</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00047964322884200472</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06567403496494386749'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_12c8guOMRvU/SoMI2fpxPAI/AAAAAAAAAGI/6Rfe21feEiQ/s72-c/2009+(Jan+to+April+15)+1006.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3627270825930563218.post-9086261285497882093</id><published>2009-08-01T15:15:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-08-01T15:42:53.008-06:00</updated><title type='text'>That Old Black Magic</title><content type='html'>We have three dogs, the oldest of whom is a black &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;cocker&lt;/span&gt; spaniel named Magic.  We got her from the pound about 6 months after I moved in with CO and the boys.  She was little over a year old at the time, was the vets best guess, so she grew up with the boys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh and she was awesome with them...patience beyond measure. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once, while I was making &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;dinner&lt;/span&gt;, I noticed &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Yute&lt;/span&gt;, who was the only one at home with me at the time, was awfully quiet.  He was right behind me, watching a video, but there were no sounds of toy trucks crashing or toy trains chugging or balls bouncing.  When I looked back over my shoulder, he was cuddled up to Magic, quietly putting stickers all over her, while she gave me this long suffering, but exceedingly patient look that said, "You're going to do something about this, right?"  She sat still and quiet while I tried to get the stickers out of her fur with a little pain as possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And through all of life's &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;trials&lt;/span&gt;, she has been just as quiet, calm and patient.  A few years later, we added a second dog, who grew to twice Magic's size, but Magic remained unconcerned.  She survived three boys and their &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;teenage&lt;/span&gt; angst.  We moved a few times, added &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;grandbabies&lt;/span&gt; who pulled at her hair when we weren't looking and even a third dog who is a whirlwind of energy, and through it all, she just looks at us like, "Oh okay.  So this is what we're doing now.  That's cool." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was never the most affectionate of the dogs, nor the most playful.  But she is simply the most "chill" being I have &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;ever&lt;/span&gt; known...dog, human, whatever.  No one rolls with the punches like this dog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In May, she got an injury on her back that became infected, and she had to have surgery to drain the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;abscess&lt;/span&gt;.  The vet insisted I take the cone home to keep her from biting at the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;stitches&lt;/span&gt; and the drains that were stuck in her, but I never needed to use it.  She just dealt with it, like every other thing in her life, without worry or complaint.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked the vet then if we should even have the surgery done.  Magic is estimated to be around 14 years old in people years, after all, and completely deaf.  She has trouble with the function in her back legs.  But her appetite is still in tact, and she is still happy to see us when we come home.  The vet assured us we would know when it was time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, a few months later, her back legs have only gotten stiffer and her movement more difficult.  She still does not seem unhappy, but then again, she never did.  Her personality is a constant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So how will we know when we are being selfish by keeping her here?  How will we know when she has had enough?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dogs are so awesome.  They bring so much joy.  But this single moment in a pet parent's life...this one single, horrible moment is so completely awful, that I cannot stand to think of it.  But think of it we must.  She trusts us and believes in us to do what is best for her.  But how do we know what that is?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HELP?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3627270825930563218-9086261285497882093?l=awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/feeds/9086261285497882093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3627270825930563218&amp;postID=9086261285497882093' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/9086261285497882093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/9086261285497882093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/2009/08/that-old-black-magic.html' title='That Old Black Magic'/><author><name>Maggie May</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00047964322884200472</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06567403496494386749'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3627270825930563218.post-8532684585591788672</id><published>2009-07-31T12:16:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-07-31T12:17:44.128-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Question of the Day</title><content type='html'>Is it hypocritical to judge someone for being judgmental?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just wondering.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3627270825930563218-8532684585591788672?l=awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/feeds/8532684585591788672/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3627270825930563218&amp;postID=8532684585591788672' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/8532684585591788672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/8532684585591788672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/2009/07/question-of-day.html' title='Question of the Day'/><author><name>Maggie May</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00047964322884200472</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06567403496494386749'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3627270825930563218.post-3108268578964831760</id><published>2009-07-28T21:57:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-07-28T21:59:52.623-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanks</title><content type='html'>Thanks everyone for both the kind sympathy, and the birthday wishes of last week.  I truly appreciate the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;camaraderie&lt;/span&gt; and support you all unfailingly provide.  You're awesome!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3627270825930563218-3108268578964831760?l=awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/feeds/3108268578964831760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3627270825930563218&amp;postID=3108268578964831760' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/3108268578964831760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/3108268578964831760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/2009/07/thanks.html' title='Thanks'/><author><name>Maggie May</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00047964322884200472</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06567403496494386749'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3627270825930563218.post-4471841484548446372</id><published>2009-07-23T09:54:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T10:12:51.786-06:00</updated><title type='text'>More Heartache</title><content type='html'>My cousin committed suicide last night.  He was 46.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is not my first experience with suicide...unfortunately.  One of my best friends from high school, the brother of my oldest childhood friend, and a co-worker have all taken this same road.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This kind of a death is so unique.  There is the grief, of course, but it is accompanied by the warring emotions guilt and anger. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is the most completely selfish, and irrevocable choice a person could ever make.  Does a person at this place in their life ever think about those they will leave behind to bear this &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;devastation&lt;/span&gt;?  Do they ever think of the person who will find them, and the images that will thereafter haunt them for life?  Or are they simply so absorbed in their own pain that it becomes more important than anyone &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;else's&lt;/span&gt; pain?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I remind myself that someone who would do this, they are in a very dark place...a place, thankfully, I have never been.  They are unwell, both mentally and emotionally, and they don't know how to get the help they need.  They don't even think they can be helped.  But they can.  Of course they can.  Things suck sometimes, but they always get better, too.  But someone in this dark place cannot fathom it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, then there is the waste.  I have lost three people I have cared about in the last 7 months that would have done anything to stay longer.  And here is someone I cared about willing to throw it all away.  It is incredibly unfair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still, I will remember him laughing.  I guess, like many, I didn't see the dark side of him.  He was incredibly fun to be around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will miss you, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;WRL&lt;/span&gt;.  I will miss you, and I am so very sorry you felt this was your only option.  I hope you have finally found some peace, because the price you paid, and everyone paid, was very, very high.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know his sister-in-law reads this blog, so to her, his wife, his brothers and sister, his nieces and nephews and his in-laws, I hope you find some peace too.  I am very, very sorry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3627270825930563218-4471841484548446372?l=awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/feeds/4471841484548446372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3627270825930563218&amp;postID=4471841484548446372' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/4471841484548446372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/4471841484548446372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/2009/07/more-heartache.html' title='More Heartache'/><author><name>Maggie May</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00047964322884200472</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06567403496494386749'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3627270825930563218.post-568010523636660928</id><published>2009-07-21T21:26:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-07-21T22:41:50.786-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Lordy Lordy Here Comes 40</title><content type='html'>I turned 40 today.  Birthdays ending in zeros tend to inspire some navel gazing, even with the most positive of attitudes.  The good news is, I am quite satisfied with my life at 40.  I have learned some amazing things in my first 40 years. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, I am facing this milestone with some appreciation rather than trepidation, because I am one of the lucky ones.  I GET to turn 40.  Unfortunate events like &lt;a href="http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-just-found-out-today-that-dear-old.html"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/2008/12/devistation.html"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; have taught me that not everyone is so blessed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next, I have a wonderful husband in CO.  Few people are as fortunate to have intimacy and friendship, trust and respect, love and support all wrapped up in the same person.  My CO is hard to get to know, and many don't understand him, but I know who he is, and he is a good man.  He teaches me every day that is it much better to be rich in love than material goods.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also have three step sons whom I cherish.  At 40 I realize that I am never likely to experience motherhood in the traditional way, and most certainly I have missed something.  For many the sense of loss accompanying this void is a constant, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;acute&lt;/span&gt; pain, but thanks to these amazing boys this has eased to a dull ache for me, such that some days I don't even notice it, and most days no one else does.  While I know I am not their mother, I also know they love me.  They have taught me many lessons, not the least of which is that while you can't always get what you want, sometimes you get what you need.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even things with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Yute&lt;/span&gt; are better these days, which is a gift for which I dared not hope.  Yet here it is...which teaches me to never give up on the really important stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course I cannot mention the boys without mentioning the greatest gifts they have given me.  While the four little bundles of joy known as &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Puddin&lt;/span&gt;' Pop, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;HiC&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Punkin&lt;/span&gt;' Pie and Peanut were not exactly heralded with singular joy, coming as they did with so much worry, I adore each and every one of them.  They are truly little miracles, and I couldn't love them more if they had been planned under the best of circumstances.  They have taught me that even when things seem their worst, there is always a silver lining.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am also extremely lucky to have wonderful parents, who taught me to be strong and independent.  I couldn't possibly cover all of the lessons they have taught me over the last 40 years.  They have been, and continue to be great examples to me.  They have suffered over the last year an a half, but despite all this, they are staying positive.  They are now embarking on a new course...one quite different from what they had planned.  So the most recent thing I have learned from them is that even the best laid plans can go awry, but keep your chin up and believe there is a reason for everything. Sometimes you just have to go with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And even luckier still...at 40 I still have a living grandparent, who is still living on his own, unassisted, and in good health.  A short time after I was born, he lost his hand in an industrial accident.  This was 40 years ago, long before workers' comp and AD&amp;amp;D insurance; long before huge legal settlements were handed out like candy to people who burned their tongues on hot coffee.  Yet, it barely slowed him down.  I don't think in 40 years I have heard him say, "I can't" simply because of his hand.  Four years ago he lost his wife of over 50 years, my beloved grandma, and this was just one more trial he faced with uncommon grace.  He has taught me that bitterness has no place in life.  Whatever life hands you, rock on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In addition to all of these wonderful people, I have terrific friends.  I still talk regularly with my best friends from elementary school, junior high, high school and college, not to mention some true blue friends from my adult life.  These folks have been with me through thick and thin, and although we may not speak every day, or sometimes for months at a time, I know that if I truly need them, they would be there.  They have taught me many things too, not the least of which is how to laugh at myself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cannot forget to mention my three four-legged children...my wonderful dogs.  no one loves me as unconditionally as they do.  I have learned form them that to truly be the best person you can be, you should try to be more like your dog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lastly, I am gainfully employed, and actually met the career goals I had set for myself to reach by 40.  In this crappy economy, that is more than I could hope for.  My career teaches me daily that there is always more to learn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there it is, the lessons I have learned in my first 40 years.  I can't imagine what the next 40 years will bring.  But no matter what happens next, life's been good to me so far, and I couldn't have asked for more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3627270825930563218-568010523636660928?l=awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/feeds/568010523636660928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3627270825930563218&amp;postID=568010523636660928' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/568010523636660928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/568010523636660928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/2009/07/lordy-lordy-here-comes-40.html' title='Lordy Lordy Here Comes 40'/><author><name>Maggie May</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00047964322884200472</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06567403496494386749'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3627270825930563218.post-3568599156349428112</id><published>2009-07-15T18:15:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-07-15T18:18:30.960-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh Boy!</title><content type='html'>Our new grandson was born today.  He was two weeks early, but healthy and he and mom are doing great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've got no pictures yet, as I am leaving to see him in just a few minutes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still, I wanted to formally welcome him to the world here, because as we all know, if a tree falls in the forest, and no one blogs about it, it didn't make a sound.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or something like that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3627270825930563218-3568599156349428112?l=awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/feeds/3568599156349428112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3627270825930563218&amp;postID=3568599156349428112' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/3568599156349428112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/3568599156349428112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/2009/07/oh-boy.html' title='Oh Boy!'/><author><name>Maggie May</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00047964322884200472</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06567403496494386749'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3627270825930563218.post-744264220949680316</id><published>2009-07-06T17:57:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-07-07T09:55:36.835-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rants'/><title type='text'>Of Contractors and Conspiracy Theories</title><content type='html'>On June 20&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;, our &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;evaporative&lt;/span&gt; cooler had a meltdown, and flooded our kitchen. Yes I said &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;evaporative&lt;/span&gt; cooler...also known as a "swamp" cooler. Our house was built in 1949, and is still, 60 years later, not vented for A/C. Honestly, the cooler works fine most of the time...except when it doesn't. We lost one wall and a third of the ceiling in the kitchen, but not the hardwood floor (&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;miraculously&lt;/span&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is now July 6, and we still have no wall, no ceiling and no cooling machine. Just try to get a contractor to respond to you in anything resembling a timely manner. Go ahead...I'll wait. I'm getting very proficient at it. Stupid me. Here I thought the industry was slow, and that contractors were desperate for work right now. Apparently not. Some don't even return phone calls. Some come out and decide the job is to small for them or whatever, and never send you the quote they promised, or even return phone calls. Some come out, give a quote, then go on vacation for a few weeks, during which time they don't even return phone calls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, I sort of get this last one, because I don't like to return calls while on vacation either, but still I'd like to know when they &lt;em&gt;can&lt;/em&gt; get to the work. I mean an estimate? A ballpark? Something? Of course that would entail the insurance company calling me back as well, and I'm sure you can guess the likelihood of that happening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To add insult to injury, we decided to spend part of our three-day weekend doing some minor, &lt;em&gt;MINOR&lt;/em&gt; home repairs, like switching out the tub and shower knobs, spouts, and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;whatchamacallits&lt;/span&gt; (I am very technical when it comes to these kind of things, so try to keep up). In the process of shopping for these items, we spied a new bathroom sink faucet that we really loved and decided to buy. Of course it was &lt;em&gt;brushed nickel&lt;/em&gt; and everything else in the bathroom was chrome, so the shopping spree began. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Unfortunately,&lt;/span&gt; in the process of changing the pipe that goes from the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;shower head&lt;/span&gt; to the major plumbing behind the wall from chrome to &lt;em&gt;brushed nickel&lt;/em&gt;, we encountered a set back. The damn thing snapped like a dry twig...behind the wall. Way behind. The really bad kind of behind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so minor repairs have turned into major ones. In addition to the holes in the kitchen, we now have holes in the bathroom. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Uhm&lt;/span&gt;, so does this make us holy? After the profanities I have uttered over all of this, I'm thinking no. If I had known that damn sink faucet was going to end up costing several thousand dollars payable to the general contractor You Fuck It Up, We Fix It (who won't even return phone calls), I would have happily lived with the old one, which wasn't even broken to start with!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my question to you is...why? Why oh why are we suffering this home repair karma? Is this some master plan to keep a contractor employed for one more week? Or maybe it is a scheme &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;concocted&lt;/span&gt; by the state assembly to syphon more sales tax dollars into the California budget? Or maybe Verizon Wireless wants me to use up all of my minutes calling and recalling a bunch of people who won't even return my phone calls, so they can charge me a premium rate when I have to, at last, call a shrink. For all I know, the shrink may even be in on it! Or even the makers of Prozac!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a conspiracy, I tell you! A conspiracy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need a drink. And some Prozac.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3627270825930563218-744264220949680316?l=awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/feeds/744264220949680316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3627270825930563218&amp;postID=744264220949680316' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/744264220949680316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/744264220949680316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/2009/07/of-contractors-and-conspiracy-theories.html' title='Of Contractors and Conspiracy Theories'/><author><name>Maggie May</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00047964322884200472</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06567403496494386749'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3627270825930563218.post-319631170505478622</id><published>2009-06-27T18:40:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-27T18:55:27.421-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Holy...Crap</title><content type='html'>CO and I were at a car show today, which was held at a large church.  One of our car club friends is a member of the congregation, and the show was a fundraiser for the church, so we took our car out.  They had all kinds of great things for kids to do, so Melvin brought the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Puddin&lt;/span&gt;' Pop out too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At one point in the day, she needed to use the bathroom, which was located inside the church proper.  They had the doors open so you could see out into the area services are held, the altar, etc.  The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Puddin&lt;/span&gt;' Pop looked through the doors and saw all of this and asked what all that was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MM: "This is a church."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PP: "A church!  Does Jesus live here?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now there are several older "church ladies" milling about, taking an interest in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Puddin&lt;/span&gt;' &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Pop's&lt;/span&gt; question.  I smile...probably a little more &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;smuggly&lt;/span&gt; than I should have, impressed with this 3-year-old and her knowledge of Jesus (especially considering my seemingly constant state of challenge with faith.  I look at my granddaughter very seriously and say, "Yes, Pop.  Jesus does live here."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Pop replies very, very loudly, "Oh My God!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Buh&lt;/span&gt; bye fleeting moment of pious achievement.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Buh&lt;/span&gt; bye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3627270825930563218-319631170505478622?l=awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/feeds/319631170505478622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3627270825930563218&amp;postID=319631170505478622' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/319631170505478622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/319631170505478622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/2009/06/holycrap.html' title='Holy...Crap'/><author><name>Maggie May</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00047964322884200472</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06567403496494386749'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3627270825930563218.post-8127164701980189697</id><published>2009-06-27T18:37:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-27T18:39:55.733-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Reason 36,742...</title><content type='html'>why I love CO.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inside my anniversary card he wrote: "I am always on the greenest side of the fence with you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is just an awesome thing to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am lucky girl.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3627270825930563218-8127164701980189697?l=awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/feeds/8127164701980189697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3627270825930563218&amp;postID=8127164701980189697' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/8127164701980189697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/8127164701980189697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/2009/06/reason-36742.html' title='Reason 36,742...'/><author><name>Maggie May</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00047964322884200472</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06567403496494386749'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3627270825930563218.post-1474984657101388048</id><published>2009-06-26T13:34:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-26T13:36:34.212-06:00</updated><title type='text'>10 Years...</title><content type='html'>and our lives are still much busier than I would have guessed, or liked for that matter.  But 10 years later, I love you more than I would ever have guessed, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Anniversary, CO.  I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3627270825930563218-1474984657101388048?l=awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/feeds/1474984657101388048/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3627270825930563218&amp;postID=1474984657101388048' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/1474984657101388048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/1474984657101388048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/2009/06/10-years.html' title='10 Years...'/><author><name>Maggie May</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00047964322884200472</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06567403496494386749'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3627270825930563218.post-8680365197191535696</id><published>2009-06-04T12:16:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T12:34:02.391-06:00</updated><title type='text'>As I Remember, What a Night</title><content type='html'>I just found out today that a dear old friend, with whom I had lost touch over the past few years, died of ovarian cancer less than a month ago. She was 39 years old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't seem to stop crying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But for the grace of God, go I. Why is it that some of us get these burdens to carry, and some don't? That is the universal question, isn't it? And one to which there is no answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't get to say this to her, so I am saying it to the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;blogoshpere&lt;/span&gt;, and hoping that some way, some how, she hears it too...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;A, I am so sorry we lost touch. I know it wasn't because of a lack of affection for one another. I have spent all morning, recounting times we spent together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You were there for me twice when I thought my world was falling apart. I know now that after one of those times, CO promised you he wouldn't break my heart. Thank you for caring about me enough to need to hear that from him. Thanks too for throwing me my bridal shower. It was a beautiful gift you gave to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so very sorry for the suffering you have endured the last few years, for both the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;physical&lt;/span&gt; pain, and the fear. I am so glad E was by your side. I remember when you two started dating. I told you he was a good man, and we were right. I will do whatever little thing I can to comfort him now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had some wonderful times together. &lt;a href="http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/2008/09/soundtrack-of-my-life-track-21.html"&gt;one of which I wrote about here&lt;/a&gt;, but there were so many others. I found a picture of us today, at Magic Mountain. Me, you, E. and R. I remember standing in lines, playing music trivia games to amuse ourselves.&lt;br /&gt;We always managed to amuse ourselves. "Which ones are named &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Doobie&lt;/span&gt;?" I STILL say that almost every time I hear a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Doobie&lt;/span&gt; Brothers song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You were a good friend to me, A. I am blessed to have known you, and I will never forget you. I hope, where ever you are now, that you can know that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Always,&lt;br /&gt;Maggie May&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3627270825930563218-8680365197191535696?l=awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/feeds/8680365197191535696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3627270825930563218&amp;postID=8680365197191535696' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/8680365197191535696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/8680365197191535696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-just-found-out-today-that-dear-old.html' title='As I Remember, What a Night'/><author><name>Maggie May</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00047964322884200472</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06567403496494386749'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3627270825930563218.post-2911012802540283773</id><published>2009-06-02T10:50:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T15:19:14.067-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Trivia'/><title type='text'>iTunes Tuesday - Eight Days a Week</title><content type='html'>I have not done &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;iTunes&lt;/span&gt; Tuesday for a long time, but yesterday's short post, and a friend's comment to me about "Tuesday" songs inspired me. So here we go. Answer the questions, and give me the artist who posed them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) I'm in love. What day is it? On which days can you break my heart? Fall apart? &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Answer: Friday (and on Monday you can fall apart...Tuesday, Wednesday break my heart) - The Cure (Good job Cullen!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) If first you love me, then you say it's wrong, and I can't go on believing for long, on what morning do you sure look fine? &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Answer: Monday - Fleetwood Mac (Good job, 'Fly)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) If a man is selling ice cream, singing Italian songs, what day is it, and where are you? &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Answer: Saturday in the Park - Chicago (Good job my anonymous friend, B and Nightfly)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) If the trees are drawing you near, and you have to find out why, and the gentle voices you hear explain it all with a sigh, what afternoon is it? &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Answer: Tuesday - Moody Blues (Another correct answer by the 'Fly)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) Which night is alright for fighting? &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Answer: Saturday - Elton John (Cullen and 'Fly got this right!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) What day can't you trust (this one's a gimme)? &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Answer: Monday - Mamas and the Papas (The Anonymous Missy B. was correct)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7) If bodies are strewn across the dead end street, what day is it? &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Answer: Sunday Bloody Sunday - U2 (Nightfly is groaning right now)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8) Don't question why she needs to be so free. She'll tell you it's the only way to be. What's her name? &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Answer: Ruby Tuesday - Rolling Stones (Nice one, 'Fly!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9) If you've spent four lonely days in a brown L.A. haze, come what day will it be alright? &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Answer: Monday - Originally Jimmy Buffett, but a country guy remade it more recently...maybe Kenny Chesney? I can't recall. (Good job B)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10) I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;yi&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;yi&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;yi&lt;/span&gt; just can't wait. I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;yi&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;yi&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;yi&lt;/span&gt; got a date. What night is it? &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Answer: Saturday - The Bay City Rollers (Excellent job, 'Fly. I didn't think anyone would get that).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bonus: A song with multiple days, which day is which:&lt;br /&gt;a) The day I feel better just for spite  &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Wednesday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;b) the day that was never good anyway &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Monday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;c) The two days that take too long &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Thursday, Friday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;d) the day that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;everything's&lt;/span&gt; alright &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Sunday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;e) the day you I a little sideways &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Tuesday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;f) the day that's gone before I know it &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Saturday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Lori Morgan was the artist (Nicely done, B.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay...go!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3627270825930563218-2911012802540283773?l=awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/feeds/2911012802540283773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3627270825930563218&amp;postID=2911012802540283773' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/2911012802540283773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/2911012802540283773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/2009/06/itunes-tuesday-eight-days-week.html' title='iTunes Tuesday - Eight Days a Week'/><author><name>Maggie May</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00047964322884200472</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06567403496494386749'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3627270825930563218.post-103663995945704644</id><published>2009-06-01T14:36:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-01T14:37:35.620-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Can't Trust That Day</title><content type='html'>Happy Monday all.  I know, that may be an oxymoron.  Still...here's hoping.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3627270825930563218-103663995945704644?l=awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/feeds/103663995945704644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3627270825930563218&amp;postID=103663995945704644' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/103663995945704644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/103663995945704644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/2009/06/cant-trust-that-day.html' title='Can&apos;t Trust That Day'/><author><name>Maggie May</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00047964322884200472</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06567403496494386749'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3627270825930563218.post-8269720350965616128</id><published>2009-05-26T12:17:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-01T14:36:36.645-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Friendly Skies</title><content type='html'>I just got back from a trip to Orlando, Florida. Before you think I had fun, let me tell you it was for work...I was attending a conference on employee benefit plans. I know. I know. Try not to be jealous. I was only outside to go from the airport to the hotel/conference center, and from the hotel/conference center to the airport...which turned out to be a good thing seeing as how it started raining the day after I got there, and didn't stop until...well, HAS it stopped? I don't know. But I do know, I have never seen rain like that in my life. It doesn't rain like that here in Southern California, Peeps. Not even close. I felt like I was surrounded by a waterfall. I did all of my shopping in the Orlando Airport.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, this whole travel experience got me wondering, as it always does, about why people in airports and airplanes (and probably trains and buses too) have to act like such inconsiderate assholes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My whole goal of traveling is to be as inconspicuous as &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;possible&lt;/span&gt;. Frankly, think this should be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;every one's&lt;/span&gt; goal in traveling. You know, inconspicuous...not immediately obvious, unremarkable, unobtrusive, not &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;noticeable&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;em&gt;Inconspicuous&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know most of you get this, but there are those of you out there...say ten to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;fifteen&lt;/span&gt; or so on any given flight, that simply do not get this. And those ten of you can make traveling a tortuous hell for the inconspicuous folk. So let me try to explain this in a way you will understand. Kay? Good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;DO arrive at the airport with plenty of time so that you can patiently stand in the inevitable lines and still comfortably make your flight. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;DON'T arrive late then bitch long and loud about the line until the people around you, who properly planned their day, feel compelled to let you cut in line ahead of them, just to shut you up.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;DO have all of your baggage properly tagged with your address, so they can be quickly handled at the counter.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;DON'T show up with thirteen unmarked bags and make the rest of us wait while you fill out address tags at the counter, all the while complaining about the bag fees. Yes, the bag fees suck. We all think so. Your nonstop bitching and moaning about them is not helping.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;DO have yourself ready to go through the security checkpoint. This means having your properly-sized liquids stored in a clear, properly-sized zip-lock bag, your laptops out of their carrying cases, and your shoes off in anticipation of the event.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;DON'T arrive at the security checkpoint with a bottle of shampoo from Costco in your carry-on, and try to bargain with the security guard. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;DON'T decide to completely unlace your high-top tennis shoes, only after making security guard order you to remove your them, to punish the guard. It is not him you are punishing. It is the poor souls stuck behind you in line.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;DON'T try to get your laptop through &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;security&lt;/span&gt; without removing it from it's case because it is a special, sensitive machine, and you are a special, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;sensitive&lt;/span&gt; creature.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;DO be ready to board the plan when your rows are called.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;DON'T crowd around in front of the gate at the first possible sighting of a flight attendant. We are all going to arrive at the same time. Being the first one on the plane does not mean you will be the first one on the ground.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;DO be organized and quick in boarding the plane and stowing your carry-on luggage.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;DON'T apply your make-up, balance your checkbook, change your child's diaper, or read &lt;em&gt;War and Peace&lt;/em&gt; until AFTER you get your butt in your seat, with your seat belt &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;securely&lt;/span&gt; fastened. The fifty people in the aisle behind you are trying to get to their seats too.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;DON'T try to cram a super-sized &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;duffel&lt;/span&gt; bag with wheels in the overhead bin. It is not going to fit. You should have checked it in the first place, Idiot! &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;DON'T then try to hold this super-sized &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;duffel&lt;/span&gt; bag on your lap. The flight attendant IS going to notice. So are the people sitting next to you.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;DO listen to and follow the flight attendant's instructions.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;DON'T think the seat belt, or tray table, or seat back rules don't apply to you. I don't know why the tray tables and seat backs HAVE to be in their upright and locked positions, but they do, okay? These are the &lt;em&gt;rules&lt;/em&gt;. Just follow them. JUST FOLLOW THEM! DON'T make the flight attendant come tell you three times.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;DO try to hold it. If you can't, DO get an aisle seat towards the rear of the aircraft, if possible. And DO plan your potty trips so that they do not interfere with take-off or landing. I don't like risking my life to get out of my seat just so that you who cannot plan don't pee your pants.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;DON'T sit in the window seat and make the passengers next to you get up and down ten times to let you out of your seat. DON'T decide when we are seconds from landing that you must go to the bathroom RIGHT NOW.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;DO be aware that not everyone on the flight finds your conversation riveting, or your child delightful.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;DON'T assume that the people in the front of the plane care to hear the vacation plans of the folks in the back of the plane.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;DON'T let your screaming child continue to kick the back of the seat in front of him/her as a form of entertainment, just so you won't have to put down your vodka and your Romance of the Month club novel.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;DON'T assume that your "membership" in the Mile High Club needs to be witnessed by other passengers to be valid.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;DO disembark the plane in an orderly, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;courteous&lt;/span&gt; fashion, in the least amount of time possible.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;DON'T stand in the aisle, pull out your cell phone, and call someone to t&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;ell&lt;/span&gt; them "We're here!" before getting your carry-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;ons&lt;/span&gt; and getting your butt off the plane. The people behind you on the plane are "here" too, and everyone has some place they need/want to be.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;DON'T decide where you have to be in much more important than where everyone else has to be, and push your way past everyone in the aisles in front of you to get off the plane first. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;DON'T decide you need to visit the bathroom in the rear of the aircraft, while everyone is trying to get off the aircraft. There are bathrooms in the airport too. Use one of those. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;DO stand close enough to the baggage conveyor to locate your bag, but be considerate of others who also need to locate their bags. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;DO check the tag to make sure it is your bag before you disappear with it. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;DO, as quickly and quietly as possible, get out of the way once you have retrieved your bags.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;DON'T push your way to the front of the conveyor belt in order to wait for baggage from a flight that has not even been announced yet.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;DON'T grab that basic black American &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Tourister&lt;/span&gt; model 101 bag and run out of the airport without checking the tag, only to arrive at the hotel with someone &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;else's&lt;/span&gt; clothes, then say "Well it looked like my bag." &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Everyone's&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; bag looks like that. Check the tag, for pity's sake! It takes like ten seconds of your valuable time. Trust me, there will still be a cab parked out front when you are done.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;DON'T get your bags, then proceed with your family reunion in front of the baggage conveyor. Move away from the damn conveyor belt before reviewing your entire vacation itinerary.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;And if you can't remember all of these dos and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;don'ts&lt;/span&gt;, just remember these two...it is very simple, really: DO be courteous to your fellow travelers. DON'T act like you are the only person on the planet. Seriously.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3627270825930563218-8269720350965616128?l=awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/feeds/8269720350965616128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3627270825930563218&amp;postID=8269720350965616128' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/8269720350965616128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/8269720350965616128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-just-got-back-from-trip-to-orlando.html' title='The Friendly Skies'/><author><name>Maggie May</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00047964322884200472</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06567403496494386749'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3627270825930563218.post-8092796193986821295</id><published>2009-05-08T17:02:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-08T17:03:35.624-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Mother's Day</title><content type='html'>...to all the momma's out there.  Especially my own!  Thanks for being such a great one.  I love you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3627270825930563218-8092796193986821295?l=awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/feeds/8092796193986821295/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3627270825930563218&amp;postID=8092796193986821295' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/8092796193986821295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/8092796193986821295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/2009/05/happy-mothers-day.html' title='Happy Mother&apos;s Day'/><author><name>Maggie May</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00047964322884200472</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06567403496494386749'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3627270825930563218.post-4912831715869900313</id><published>2009-05-05T14:15:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T14:20:14.886-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A Cinco De Mayo Gift</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;No, it isn't beer or &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;carne&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;asada&lt;/span&gt; (although that sounds good too).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Our granddaughter finally arrived! She was born at 3:58 this morning (two weeks late), weighing in at a whopping 9 lbs 13 oz, and 19.8" long.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I haven't decided upon her blog name yet. I have to get to know her first. But here she is in all her squished, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;smooshed&lt;/span&gt;, swollen, 45-minute-old glory.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332437167038144834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_12c8guOMRvU/SgCfWdhmIUI/AAAAAAAAAFw/kxtX4RHw_mE/s320/2009+(Jan+to+April+15)+079.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3627270825930563218-4912831715869900313?l=awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/feeds/4912831715869900313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3627270825930563218&amp;postID=4912831715869900313' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/4912831715869900313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/4912831715869900313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/2009/05/cinco-de-mayo-gift.html' title='A Cinco De Mayo Gift'/><author><name>Maggie May</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00047964322884200472</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06567403496494386749'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_12c8guOMRvU/SgCfWdhmIUI/AAAAAAAAAFw/kxtX4RHw_mE/s72-c/2009+(Jan+to+April+15)+079.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3627270825930563218.post-974284964754645834</id><published>2009-04-27T14:35:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-27T14:53:55.116-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello?  Is There Anybody In There?</title><content type='html'>Yes, I am still alive.  I survived tax season...my first as a partner, which was a whole new mine field to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;navigate&lt;/span&gt;.  This was on top of some personal issues that haunted me throughout, and from which I am still smarting.  In fact, I almost abandoned this blog because of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But while things here are not always as I believed, it is still true that I have friends on here, and although I don't "know" many of you, I feel like I &lt;em&gt;know&lt;/em&gt; you.  You know?  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Hee&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;hee&lt;/span&gt;...sure you do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I am back, and I am happy to be here.  Here are a few other things I know, just to bring you up to speed:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Office politics suck.  Yes, they do.  Oh...and the sky is blue.  I am all about the obvious here.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Grandbaby&lt;/span&gt; number 3 is a girl, and has still not made an appearance, although she is past due for it.  I begged her to wait until after April 15&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;...now it seems as if it is my turn to be patient.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;We are expecting &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Grandbaby&lt;/span&gt; number 4, a boy, August 2&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;nd&lt;/span&gt;.  I could launch into a tirade about this one, but I have taken the position that I need to stop whining.  Some people never get the chance to experience this, and it is incredibly unfair and ungrateful of me to complain about such a gift.  Are there negatives?  Sure.  But I am trying to focus on the positives.  And this is not easy for me...worst-case scenario kind of girl that I am.  So I am growing here.  I AM!  So stop touching me.  Stop it!  I'm telling...oh, &lt;em&gt;MOM&lt;/em&gt;!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am obsessed with Farm Town on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Facebook&lt;/span&gt;.  It is stupid, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;juvenile&lt;/span&gt;, ridiculous, and completely delightful because of all that.  So much for growing.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there.  That is what is happening in my world.  Now I will try to catch up with yours.  Thanks for letting me disappear, and still welcoming me back.  You blog friends are the best.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3627270825930563218-974284964754645834?l=awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/feeds/974284964754645834/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3627270825930563218&amp;postID=974284964754645834' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/974284964754645834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/974284964754645834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/2009/04/hello-is-there-anybody-in-there.html' title='Hello?  Is There Anybody In There?'/><author><name>Maggie May</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00047964322884200472</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06567403496494386749'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3627270825930563218.post-7084740190530142547</id><published>2009-04-01T11:24:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T11:50:16.114-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='American Idol 2009'/><title type='text'>Idol Chit Chat 2009 - Top 9</title><content type='html'>I only have time to post a few thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My bottom three prediction...&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Anoop&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. Matt and Megan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Matt did not deserve to be in the bottom three last week, and he was understandably &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;pouty&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; about it. So to fix that, his sucked hard this week, so he can officially feel better about being in the bottom three this week. I guess that was his theory, because that's what he did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Anoop&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; just bored me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Megan...oh please let her be going home. Her verbal inflections while singing are like needles being poked into my eyes. I cannot stand it. I would never buy anything she recorded, and I would change the station if a song of hers was playing on the radio. The girl is lovely, but the singing is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;teh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; suck. I cannot take it another week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My top three...Adam, Danny and Kris.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realize that a bunch of folks out there don't like Adam, but I do, and I'll tell you why...he is unique. He is never sings a song the way it was originally recorded...and I don't mean that he just shortens it up and changes a note or two. He changes many things. Sometimes it sucks. Sometimes it doesn't. But it is &lt;em&gt;always&lt;/em&gt; interesting, and it is never karaoke (which I said before Simon last night, while defending Adam to CO. Of course I have no proof of that, but I did, so you're just going to have to believe me, Peeps). I don't know that I'd ever buy anything he has done, but I always look forward to hearing what he going to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kris really surprised me last night. He has been flying under the radar, but the last two weeks, he has been really good. I love the song he sang last night, and I was worried he was going to fuck it up, but he didn't. I liked the changes he made. He was good, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Dawg&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Danny was in my top three, but I wasn't as blown away as the judges. I love me some Danny, but weeks into this thing, he is disappointing me a little. Some of the shiny has worn off. Maybe that's due to sitting next to CO, who hates Danny, week in week out. Last week, during the results, I had to admit I saw a flash of the arrogance that CO keeps ranting about. Although I still refuse to buy into the notion that he is playing on the poor widower thing for votes.  He is far to adorable, and I am not that cynical.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rounding out the top 9 were Allison, Lil and Scott, who were all decent this week...not horrible not spectacular, just...you know...eh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The best part of the evening was when &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Pauler&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; was trying to sound sober by using big words in her critiques...intonation, magnificent, enchanting, etc. CO said, "Wow, Paula bought herself a dictionary. Either that, or she has word of the day toilet paper."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a visual to get us all through the week.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3627270825930563218-7084740190530142547?l=awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/feeds/7084740190530142547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3627270825930563218&amp;postID=7084740190530142547' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/7084740190530142547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/7084740190530142547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/2009/04/idol-chit-chat-2009-top-9.html' title='Idol Chit Chat 2009 - Top 9'/><author><name>Maggie May</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00047964322884200472</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06567403496494386749'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3627270825930563218.post-4931790319304201328</id><published>2009-03-30T18:35:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-30T18:47:34.944-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Baggage'/><title type='text'>Repeat</title><content type='html'>Okay, yes. There was a post up between Tuesday, March 17&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; and Wednesday, March 25&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; that I took down, for various personal reasons. So if you thought you were missing something, you probably were, but it was nothing important.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I was asked to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;reproduce&lt;/span&gt; a certain part of that post, and so I have, with a few minor tweaks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heartbreak is discovering that something you believed in, whether it be an ideal, an individual or an organization is not a rock...strong, solid, immovable and slow to change, but rather like a sandbar...ebbing, flowing, constantly shifting beneath your feet so that what is there today can be completely different than what was there just yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or something like that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3627270825930563218-4931790319304201328?l=awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/feeds/4931790319304201328/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3627270825930563218&amp;postID=4931790319304201328' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/4931790319304201328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/4931790319304201328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/2009/03/repeat.html' title='Repeat'/><author><name>Maggie May</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00047964322884200472</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06567403496494386749'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3627270825930563218.post-1665219446757443318</id><published>2009-03-26T11:02:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-30T18:47:57.217-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='American Idol 2009'/><title type='text'>Idol Chit Chat 2009 - Top 10</title><content type='html'>I have been woefully negligent in my Idol blogging this season.  Maybe it comes from watching it with CO every week, and hearing how much he dislikes the contestants this season.  He is a mad and crazy hater.  I spend all my Idol energy defending my players.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't have much time, so I will get to the point...Adam was awesome.  Allison, Matt and Kris were also great.  Danny, my dear, darling, Danny...you were only alright.  I expected more for you.  As I did from Lil.  Disappointing.  But you're not going home. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Anoop&lt;/span&gt; was decent.  Better than I expected.  I have a hard time judging him, because I can't stop looking at his enormous eyebrows long enough to listen to him sing.  And I can only think of one thing..."Silence!  I kill you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bottom three - Megan, Michael and Scott, with Megan going home.  She was hideously awful.  I mean AW. FUL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And a quick word.  I think Ryan said the most clever thing (perhaps the only clever thing) I have ever heard him say. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paula (ducking under the table): "I have something for you, Simon."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ryan: "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Uhm&lt;/span&gt;, we can't show that."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Hahahahahahahahahahaha&lt;/span&gt;!  Okay...it was a visual joke, and you maybe had to have seen it to appreciate it, but I laughed out loud.  I think it may have been the first time I laughed with Ryan, and not at him.  An Idol milestone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3627270825930563218-1665219446757443318?l=awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/feeds/1665219446757443318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3627270825930563218&amp;postID=1665219446757443318' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/1665219446757443318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3627270825930563218/posts/default/1665219446757443318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awiseassoncesaid.blogspot.com/2009/03/idol-chit-chat-2009-top-10.html' title='Idol Chit Chat 2009 - Top 10'/><author><name>Maggie May</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00047964322884200472</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06567403496494386749'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry></feed>