<?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-9036253476200281195</id><updated>2010-01-07T16:33:03.630-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Two Girls For Mama</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>Sandra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00315637996102965055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>246</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9036253476200281195.post-2740583475146385424</id><published>2010-01-07T13:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-07T13:21:04.147-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Been awhile hasn't it?!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I've been around just not posting. The holidays were great. I had 2 weeks off work.&amp;nbsp; The girls and I did some bowling (I lost both games with bumpers!) and roller skating (redeemed myself there!) along with visiting with friends and family.&amp;nbsp; We stayed at my parents house for a few days and did tubing and snow play.&amp;nbsp; The time off felt long which is always a good thing.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my last week in my current job. I move tomorrow to my new cubicle to start my new job.&amp;nbsp; Woohoo!&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today we had an earthquake here in the Bay Area. It centered in Milpitas. It was a 4.1 quake and didn't last long but lasted long enough.&amp;nbsp; haha&amp;nbsp; I don't really mind earthquakes too much, as long as they're during the day.&amp;nbsp; The night ones freak me out since I don't know if I should continue laying in my bed or jump up and get the girls so we can stand under door frames.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have some pics but they're not loading properly. Once I figure it out I'll put them on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9036253476200281195-2740583475146385424?l=twogirlsformama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/feeds/2740583475146385424/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9036253476200281195&amp;postID=2740583475146385424&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/2740583475146385424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/2740583475146385424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/2010/01/been-awhile-hasnt-it.html' title='Been awhile hasn&apos;t it?!'/><author><name>Sandra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00315637996102965055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18323623194236138350'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9036253476200281195.post-8764465810184049079</id><published>2009-12-09T19:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-09T19:20:21.257-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life Changing Moments'/><title type='text'>Finally!!!!</title><content type='html'>Something huge happened to me in my life.&amp;nbsp; I've been hoping and praying for this day for 7 years and as of&amp;nbsp;Monday it happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realize in&amp;nbsp;our current economic times some people reading this entry may feel I should just be happy with what I have, but are we ever really happy with what we have?&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I work for a company that I love.&amp;nbsp; Yes Love.&amp;nbsp; I have invested 10+ years with them, made life-long friends here, am involved in a couple really important (to me) committees. I have seen them grow from a $100M a year to a $3B a year&amp;nbsp;company, but I have been BORED OUT OF MY MIND doing the same job for 10 years.&amp;nbsp; I came here with approx 7 years experience.&amp;nbsp; I am an expert in my field.&amp;nbsp; I do not have any hopes or dreams of being a manager.&amp;nbsp; I have learned that I do not like to manage people. I like to lead.&amp;nbsp; Two very different things. I even have a bachelors degree in business management.&amp;nbsp; However, I am a mom with two young children and I am happy to say I prefer to be an independant contributor. I only have to worry about ME.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never wanted to leave the company, I only ever wanted to find something else in the company to do.&amp;nbsp; Several years ago I interviewed for a couple positions here.&amp;nbsp; I was over qualified for one and under qualified for the other.&amp;nbsp; Although I was told I would be good at the latter, the manager did not have the band width (a very over used word here in the Silicon Valley) to train me so she was inclined to hire someone who had already been doing the job for a couple years. *sigh*&amp;nbsp; There are a also couple positions I know too much about (hellish hours and crazy stress) so I know I do not want to do those.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;I've been very lucky that in 10 years. I've squeaked thru several layoffs.&amp;nbsp; I'm not the new guy.&amp;nbsp; It's scary being the new guy.&amp;nbsp; Seniority doesn't always help but it can't always hurt either.&amp;nbsp; In these economic times changing companies is not always wise.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another reason I have to stay here - when you work here for 10 years you get 5 weeks of PTO (paid time off) AND you get an awesome vacation. You receive an extra week of vacation just for that 10-year vacation along with&amp;nbsp;$4500 to spend for&amp;nbsp;that vacation. They pay for everyone except gifts and souvenirs.&amp;nbsp; Sweet right?!&amp;nbsp; Totally.&amp;nbsp; Now you say, Sandra, you've typed that you've been there 10+ years, why haven't you taken that kick ass vacation yet?&amp;nbsp; Unfortunately they prorate your time.&amp;nbsp; I had two children while working here. Maternity leave gets subtracted from your time.&amp;nbsp; I was off approx 9 months total so my 10 year vacation award isn't really&amp;nbsp;until May/June 2010.&amp;nbsp; Must. Stick. It. Out.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's hard to stick anything out when you no longer want to be there.&amp;nbsp; It's like nails on a chalkboard.&amp;nbsp; Seriously.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few months ago a part-time&amp;nbsp;(ISO) internal audit position came up here at this company, which would only require me a couple weeks out of every quarter, still&amp;nbsp;enabling me to do my boring&amp;nbsp;regular job. My manager poo poo'd it.&amp;nbsp; She said it would take me away from my "real" job.&amp;nbsp; I was upset.&amp;nbsp; I was frustrated.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I did look elsewhere.&amp;nbsp; I frequented Monster.com and other job sites over the years.&amp;nbsp; I even sent out a few resume's and got call backs.&amp;nbsp; The trouble was, I didn't want to leave.&amp;nbsp; I just wanted a change.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally got what I wanted.&amp;nbsp; A position was created&amp;nbsp;that relates to what I do, but it's in a completely other section of the company.&amp;nbsp; I work in finance. This new position was in sales. They needed someone like me and I knew I was their person.&amp;nbsp; I said many prayers. I tried to do the "Secret" and say lots of positive things like "PICK ME" and "GIVE IT TO SANDRA".&amp;nbsp; I was desperate!&amp;nbsp; They interviewed many people. I GOT IT!!!&amp;nbsp; I start the first week of January.&amp;nbsp; I'm so happy.&amp;nbsp; I really am doing happy dances.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My kids are so sweet.&amp;nbsp; When they found out they wrote me congratulations notes with big hearts.&amp;nbsp; My husband just asked if I'm happy.&amp;nbsp; YES!&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now the tough part is to not act like a "short-timer" while I finish out the year here in finance.&amp;nbsp;I still have to interact with this department and it's quite possible my new job may some day end up back in finance rather than sales.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'M SO EXCITED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9036253476200281195-8764465810184049079?l=twogirlsformama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/feeds/8764465810184049079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9036253476200281195&amp;postID=8764465810184049079&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/8764465810184049079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/8764465810184049079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/2009/12/finally.html' title='Finally!!!!'/><author><name>Sandra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00315637996102965055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18323623194236138350'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9036253476200281195.post-436095118023814169</id><published>2009-12-04T13:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-04T13:45:04.445-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny'/><title type='text'>Husband banned from Target</title><content type='html'>Another friend sent this one to me today.&amp;nbsp; I'm received something similar but it always cracks me up.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Husband banned from Target&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After I retired, my wife insisted that I accompany her on her trips to Target. Unfortunately, like most men, I found shopping boring and preferred to get in and get out. Equally unfortunate, my wife is like most women - she loves to browse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday my dear wife received the following letter from our local Target.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Mrs. Samsel,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the past six months, your husband has caused quite a commotion in our store.. We cannot tolerate this behavior and have been forced to ban both of you from the store. Our complaints against your husband, Mr. Samsel, are listed below and are documented by our video surveillance cameras.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. June 15: Took 24 boxes of condoms and randomly put them in other people's carts when they weren't looking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. July 2: Set all the alarm clocks in Housewares to go off at 5-minute intervals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. July 7: He made a trail of tomato juice on the floor leading to the women's restroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. July 19: Walked up to an employee and told her in an official voice,'Code 3 in Housewares. Get on it right away'. This caused the employee to leave her assigned station and receive a reprimand from her Supervisor that in turn resulted with a union grievance, causing management to lose time and costing the company money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. August 4: Went to the Service Desk and tried to put a bag of M&amp;amp;Ms on layaway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. August 14: Moved a 'CAUTION - WET FLOOR' sign to a carpeted area.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. August 15: Set up a tent in the camping department and told the children shoppers he would invite them in if they would bring pillows and blankets from the bedding department to which twenty children obliged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. August 23: When a clerk asked if they could help him he began crying and screamed, 'Why can't you people just leave me alone?' EMTs were called.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. September 4: Looked right into the security camera and used it as a mirror while he picked his nose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. September 10: While handling guns in the hunting department, he asked the clerk where the antidepressants were. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. October 3: Darted around the store suspiciously while loudly humming the 'Mission Impossible' theme.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. October 6: In the auto department, he practiced his 'Madonna look' by using different sizes of funnels.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. October 18: Hid in a clothing rack and when people browsed through,yelled 'PICK ME! PICK ME!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. October 21: When an announcement came over the loud speaker, he assumed a fetal position and screamed 'OH NO! IT'S THOSE VOICES AGAIN!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And last, but not least:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. October 23: Went into a fitting room, shut the door, waited awhile, and then yelled very loudly, 'Hey! There's no toilet paper in here.' One of the clerks passed out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9036253476200281195-436095118023814169?l=twogirlsformama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/feeds/436095118023814169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9036253476200281195&amp;postID=436095118023814169&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/436095118023814169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/436095118023814169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/2009/12/husband-banned-from-target.html' title='Husband banned from Target'/><author><name>Sandra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00315637996102965055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18323623194236138350'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9036253476200281195.post-7365148184101667501</id><published>2009-12-03T18:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-03T18:39:05.334-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny'/><title type='text'>Random Thoughts for the Day</title><content type='html'>One of my favorite friends forwarded this to me in email today.&amp;nbsp; I thought I'd share.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Random Thoughts for the Day:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I think part of a best friend's job should be to immediately clear your computer history if you die. &lt;br /&gt;2. Nothing sucks more tn that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong. &lt;br /&gt;3. I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger. &lt;br /&gt;4. There is great need for a sarcasm font. &lt;br /&gt;5. How the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet? &lt;br /&gt;6. Was learning cursive really necessary? &lt;br /&gt;7. Map Quest really needs to start their directions on #5. I'm pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood. &lt;br /&gt;8. Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died. &lt;br /&gt;9. I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind of tired. &lt;br /&gt;10. Bad decisions make good stories. &lt;br /&gt;11. You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you know that you just aren't going to do anything productive for the rest of the day. &lt;br /&gt;12. Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after Blue Ray? I don't want to have to restart my collection...again. &lt;br /&gt;13. I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten-page research paper that I swear I did not make any changes to. &lt;br /&gt;14. "Do not machine wash or tumble dry" means I will never wash this -- ever. &lt;br /&gt;15. I hate when I just miss a call by the last ring (Hello? Hello? Damn it!), but when I immediately call back, it rings nine times and goes to voicemail. What'd you do after I didn't answer? Drop the phone and run away? &lt;br /&gt;16. I hate leaving my house confident and looking good and then not seeing anyone of importance the entire day. What a waste. &lt;br /&gt;17. I keep some people's phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call. &lt;br /&gt;18. My 4-year old son asked me in the car the other day " Dad what would happen if you ran over a ninja?" How the hell do I respond to that? &lt;br /&gt;19. I think the freezer deserves a light as well.. &lt;br /&gt;20. I disagree with Kay Jewelers. I would bet on any given Friday or Saturday night more kisses begin with Miller Lites than Kay.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9036253476200281195-7365148184101667501?l=twogirlsformama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/feeds/7365148184101667501/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9036253476200281195&amp;postID=7365148184101667501&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/7365148184101667501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/7365148184101667501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/2009/12/random-thoughts-for-day.html' title='Random Thoughts for the Day'/><author><name>Sandra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00315637996102965055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18323623194236138350'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9036253476200281195.post-523502072402733525</id><published>2009-11-24T16:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-24T16:46:53.209-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I hope she'll always remember</title><content type='html'>As a child I only camped a handful of times. I love that my kids get to camp multiple times a year. It's a great family activity. My oldest learned to ride her bike on a camping trip w/out training wheels.&amp;nbsp; She'll remember that forever. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Sunday the girls and I left the house around 9:45am. It was a brisk clear morning around 50 degrees F.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;A neighbor 2 doors down had a fire burning in their fireplace.&amp;nbsp; You know that smell a fireplace makes from burning wood?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I love that smell. When we camp I love that smell.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paula walks&amp;nbsp;outside to&amp;nbsp;get into the car and she stops&amp;nbsp;in the driveway, tilts her head up&amp;nbsp;saying "Ah, it smells like camping........it smells like camping."&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love how she knows that smell.&amp;nbsp;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9036253476200281195-523502072402733525?l=twogirlsformama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/feeds/523502072402733525/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9036253476200281195&amp;postID=523502072402733525&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/523502072402733525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/523502072402733525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-hope-shell-always-remember.html' title='I hope she&apos;ll always remember'/><author><name>Sandra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00315637996102965055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18323623194236138350'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9036253476200281195.post-8574036276733980578</id><published>2009-11-18T15:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-18T15:21:07.179-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><title type='text'>It ain't shorts weather no more</title><content type='html'>Last night I attended a school board meeting right after work. My kids attend a private school where they wear uniforms.&amp;nbsp; One&amp;nbsp;of the benefits to kids when their parents attend school meetings is they get free dress the next day. That's huge to uniform kids I'm tellin ya.&amp;nbsp; So I call hubby&amp;nbsp;requesting he inform the girls they get free dress tomorrow and could they please pick out their outfits tonight.&amp;nbsp; Free dress mornings can get quite hectic and I thank gawd all the time I have 2 girls in uniforms.&amp;nbsp; Oh the Drama!&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I get home last night after they're in bed (hence the phone request)&amp;nbsp;make their lunches, etc and settle in for the night.&amp;nbsp; A &lt;strike&gt;few &lt;/strike&gt;couple of glasses later I hit the hay.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mornings comes way too damn early.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I go into small childs room to wake her up and notice she's chosen shorts for her free dress outfit.&amp;nbsp; Um, it's been in the 30's at night and doesn't get out of the 60's during the day.&amp;nbsp; Granted, this child is impervious to the cold, but as a parent who knows only to well how the school staff and other parents will frown on my parenting skills, I must insist she choose pants. I do have a&lt;strike&gt; facade&lt;/strike&gt; reputation to keep up you know&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you think that went over?&amp;nbsp; Yeah.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shawna cries NO!&amp;nbsp; I want shorts!&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can't wear shorts Shawna. It's winter time and way too cold for shorts.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want shorts!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm throwing out pants ideas and she ain't buying it.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I remember I purchased some used pants in her size off ebay. I had them in the laundry room to wash before I gave them to her but we had an emergency situation here. I dismissed the fact there might be &lt;strike&gt;invsisible germs&lt;/strike&gt; anything to worry about&amp;nbsp;and ran downstairs to retrieve them. They're cute with flowers or shells down the leg.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shawna, do you want to wear these new &lt;strike&gt;used&lt;/strike&gt; jeans I got you?&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YES!&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Problem averted.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Damn I'm good.&amp;nbsp;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9036253476200281195-8574036276733980578?l=twogirlsformama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/feeds/8574036276733980578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9036253476200281195&amp;postID=8574036276733980578&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/8574036276733980578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/8574036276733980578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/2009/11/it-aint-shorts-weather-no-more.html' title='It ain&apos;t shorts weather no more'/><author><name>Sandra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00315637996102965055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18323623194236138350'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9036253476200281195.post-3399424317542640840</id><published>2009-11-13T17:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-13T17:23:18.167-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Impressions</title><content type='html'>I recently left a comment&amp;nbsp;on another bloggers post. This very likable person is being told she's intimidating and not approachable, when she herself feels she's the complete opposite. What makes someone think your one way or another way?&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was my comment about myself:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it depends on where I am and what's on my mind at the time that gives a person an impression of me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband says I carry a "mean mug" on my face. I've known people all my life who said when they first met me they thought I was a bitch. There are times I'm in deep thought or not in the mood to socialize. It must show on my face. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet, I am approached ALL the time in places because apparently I look like someone who is willing to help or give guidance or give directions. I'm also very willing and do chat it up with strangers. I will try to make someone who looks uncomfortable, more comfortable by smiling at them and engaging them. Not all the time mind you, just when I'm in that frame of mind. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am considered by many a social butterfly at work. Very bubbly and silly. I can also be serious and stern. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think I'm any one type of person. And I don't know how I could change who I am either. It's just naturally me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9036253476200281195-3399424317542640840?l=twogirlsformama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/feeds/3399424317542640840/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9036253476200281195&amp;postID=3399424317542640840&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/3399424317542640840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/3399424317542640840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/2009/11/impressions.html' title='Impressions'/><author><name>Sandra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00315637996102965055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18323623194236138350'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9036253476200281195.post-7911956230118097131</id><published>2009-11-09T15:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-09T17:15:48.363-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='camping'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Vacation'/><title type='text'>November 2009 Mt. Madonna</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I've updated my blog to be able to post bigger pictures. I'm still playing around with the template and formats so it may continue to change. Thanks for being patient. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;This past weekend my family, friends and I ventured once again to Mount Madonna Park here in N. California. It's near Gilroy (for you garlic lovers). Gilroy is the garlic capital. &lt;em&gt;Yes it is. The air even smells like garlic for miles and miles during harvest months. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have a travel trailer so we tend to camp year round.&amp;nbsp;This&amp;nbsp;past weekend we&amp;nbsp;lucked out with crisp but clear weather. We had some rain last year but afterall, it is November.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;My oldest daughter, Paula, brought along her BFF from school. Our friends, who we often camp with,&amp;nbsp;came along with their 1 daughter. &lt;em&gt;(and a teenage son too but he kept a low profile)&lt;/em&gt; The 4 girls together worked out great. 3 girls tends to lead to arguments. &lt;em&gt;My girls fight over the 3rd child because they want all her attention.&amp;nbsp; It's annoying.&lt;/em&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;This is poor Rosie feeling captive&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/Mt%20Madonna%20Nov%202009/P1030440.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" src="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/Mt%20Madonna%20Nov%202009/P1030440.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 480px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 640px;" /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The girls found a log for the fire. uh huh.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/Mt%20Madonna%20Nov%202009/P1030424.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" src="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/Mt%20Madonna%20Nov%202009/P1030424.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 480px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 640px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;This was the backside of our trailer where most of the "camping" occurred.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;J.D, Haley's dad, is leading them in a dance routine from the MP3 player.&amp;nbsp; &lt;em&gt;Step to the right (clap clap) Step to the left (clap clap)&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/Mt%20Madonna%20Nov%202009/P1030444.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" src="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/Mt%20Madonna%20Nov%202009/P1030444.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 480px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 640px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4 little monkeys sitting in a tree&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/Mt%20Madonna%20Nov%202009/P1030450.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" src="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/Mt%20Madonna%20Nov%202009/P1030450.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 480px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 640px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;We went on a serious hike. 1.5 miles was down hill but then 1.5 miles was up hill. OMG we were all so tired. Our legs hurt from climbing but it was worth it in the end. Rosie was off leash the entire time and loved being able to run free. &lt;em&gt;(Born free.......can't you hear it?) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/Mt%20Madonna%20Nov%202009/P1030456.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" src="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/Mt%20Madonna%20Nov%202009/P1030456.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 480px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 640px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;We saw banana slugs on our hike. They're super fun looking. I held a couple of them.&amp;nbsp; Two of the girls would touch them.&amp;nbsp; Kind of looks like a used condom.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/Mt%20Madonna%20Nov%202009/P1030454.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" src="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/Mt%20Madonna%20Nov%202009/P1030454.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 480px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 640px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;See. Take a look at the slope of this path. STEEP people. I'm the one in the far back.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;I wasn't there the entire time.&amp;nbsp; We all sort of rotated.&amp;nbsp; In the end though I was carrying several sweatshirts and a bag Paula's friend brought with a heavy binder full of paper. Because you never know when you'll want to write something amazing on a long hike.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" src="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/Mt%20Madonna%20Nov%202009/P1030467.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 640px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 480px;" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;We had excitement on our camping trip. Well, I didn't. I was taking a nap. But when Todd and JD went to fetch firewood &lt;em&gt;(because the long log just wasn't gonna work)&lt;/em&gt; they were told the road was closed due to a car fire. Luckily we weren't being evacuated. No one was hurt and thankfully the fire didn't spread to the trees. Todd ran down the path to take pictures. I think the car is totalled.&lt;/strong&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/Mt%20Madonna%20Nov%202009/P1030484.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" src="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/Mt%20Madonna%20Nov%202009/P1030484.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 480px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 640px;" /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The girls get in some hula hoopin' time. And yes, Shawna is digging into her shirt for reasons I don't know. Look how non-chalant Paula is with her arms crossed. &lt;/strong&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/Mt%20Madonna%20Nov%202009/P1030489.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" src="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/Mt%20Madonna%20Nov%202009/P1030489.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 480px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 640px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;There are White Fallow Deer kept in a pen at the rangers station. I took the girls there &lt;em&gt;(because they were driving us nuts so I wanted them to do something other than drive us all crazy)&amp;nbsp;&lt;/em&gt; We fed them grass but then later read the info board and saw we shouldn't feed them. Oops.&amp;nbsp; Below is a beautiful buck posing nicely for me.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/Mt%20Madonna%20Nov%202009/P1030492.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" src="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/Mt%20Madonna%20Nov%202009/P1030492.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 480px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 640px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Shawna stands in front of the doe. One licked her hand. She was soo thrilled.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/Mt%20Madonna%20Nov%202009/P1030497.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" src="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/Mt%20Madonna%20Nov%202009/P1030497.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 480px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 640px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;About the deer.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/Mt%20Madonna%20Nov%202009/P1030491.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" src="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/Mt%20Madonna%20Nov%202009/P1030491.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 480px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 640px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My sweet Paula picking grass for the deer. (shhh)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/Mt%20Madonna%20Nov%202009/P1030499.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" src="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/Mt%20Madonna%20Nov%202009/P1030499.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 640px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 480px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Thanks for looking! I have some fun videos to put on here, but I'm lame so that might take me awhile &lt;em&gt;(years).&lt;/em&gt; Check back because it might be here someday. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&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/9036253476200281195-7911956230118097131?l=twogirlsformama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/feeds/7911956230118097131/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9036253476200281195&amp;postID=7911956230118097131&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/7911956230118097131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/7911956230118097131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/2009/11/november-2009-mt-madonna.html' title='November 2009 Mt. Madonna'/><author><name>Sandra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00315637996102965055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18323623194236138350'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9036253476200281195.post-238933448832433876</id><published>2009-11-03T17:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-03T17:22:18.002-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Paula'/><title type='text'>My oldest has braces</title><content type='html'>Today my oldest achieved a major milestone. She got braces and couldn't be happier. I don't know what is up with kids these days. They WANT glasses and WANT braces. As a child I HAD glasses and HAD braces but never wanted either. Of course the color choices back in the stone age didn't measure up to today's wide array of colors. Paula has 2 shades of purple ties. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/SvDWJAE4w0I/AAAAAAAAAsA/sI_5EXeqd9s/s1600-h/Paula+Braces+1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/SvDWJAE4w0I/AAAAAAAAAsA/sI_5EXeqd9s/s320/Paula+Braces+1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400051403344888642" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9036253476200281195-238933448832433876?l=twogirlsformama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/feeds/238933448832433876/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9036253476200281195&amp;postID=238933448832433876&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/238933448832433876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/238933448832433876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/2009/11/my-oldest-has-braces.html' title='My oldest has braces'/><author><name>Sandra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00315637996102965055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18323623194236138350'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/SvDWJAE4w0I/AAAAAAAAAsA/sI_5EXeqd9s/s72-c/Paula+Braces+1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9036253476200281195.post-4036930896552306180</id><published>2009-10-30T16:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-30T17:17:04.154-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Giving'/><title type='text'>The Starfish Story</title><content type='html'>Many years ago I learned of a wonderful organization called &lt;a href="http://www.familygivingtree.org/"&gt;The Family Giving Tree&lt;/a&gt;. Their mission "is to provide the exact holiday wish, or a backpack filled with school supplies, to those children in the most need in our communities while striving to inspire the values of kindness, philanthropy and volunteerism. "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most of us may not realize how many children go to school without even a pencil. How fun do you think kindergarten would be without crayons? A kindergarten teacher working in a low income school knows what it's like not to have crayons. She literally cried when receiving backpacks for her kids because she could now plan activities using crayons. I was surprised when I heard that. I mean, I've been working with this organization for years. Certainly a school has a way to fund crayons? Apparently not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm reminded of a story I've heard a few times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Starfish Story&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Once a man was walking along a beach. The sun was shining and it was a beautiful day. Off in the distance he could see a person going back and forth between the surf's edge and and the beach. Back and forth this person went. As the man approached he could see that there were hundreds of starfish stranded on the sand as the result of the natural action of the tide. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The man was stuck by the the apparent futility of the task. There were far too many starfish. Many of them were sure to perish. As he approached the person continued the task of picking up starfish one by one and throwing them into the surf. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;As he came up to the person he said, "You must be crazy. There are thousands of miles of beach covered with starfish. You can't possibly make a difference." The person looked at the man. He then stooped down and pick up one more starfish and threw it back into the ocean. He turned back to the man and said, "It sure made a difference to that one!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Author Unknown&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to post some touching letters this organization put on their Facebook page. These letters are from the children who received brand new backpacks with brand new supplies. It made a different to that one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/Sut8fgQKIWI/AAAAAAAAAr4/IZkfYeMj4Ds/s1600-h/backpack+letter+5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398545459009167714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 244px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/Sut8fgQKIWI/AAAAAAAAAr4/IZkfYeMj4Ds/s320/backpack+letter+5.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/Sut8fbU5s1I/AAAAAAAAArw/IyrrFuFHj2I/s1600-h/backpack+letter+4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398545457686885202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 242px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/Sut8fbU5s1I/AAAAAAAAArw/IyrrFuFHj2I/s320/backpack+letter+4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/Sut8fLMjAkI/AAAAAAAAAro/o63zxyM50o0/s1600-h/Backpack+letter+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398545453356876354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 245px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/Sut8fLMjAkI/AAAAAAAAAro/o63zxyM50o0/s320/Backpack+letter+2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.familygivingtree.org/ &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/9036253476200281195-4036930896552306180?l=twogirlsformama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/feeds/4036930896552306180/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9036253476200281195&amp;postID=4036930896552306180&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/4036930896552306180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/4036930896552306180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/2009/10/starfish-story.html' title='The Starfish Story'/><author><name>Sandra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00315637996102965055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18323623194236138350'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/Sut8fgQKIWI/AAAAAAAAAr4/IZkfYeMj4Ds/s72-c/backpack+letter+5.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9036253476200281195.post-639912967377799330</id><published>2009-10-20T15:04:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-29T10:06:18.474-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cabo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Vacation'/><title type='text'>Vignettes of Cabo ~ October 2009</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;My friend of over 15 years and I went on a week long trip to Baja California also known as Cabo. We had a fabulous time together. I've attached some pictures down below.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Vignettes of Cabo ~ October 2009&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. While casually walking back to the resort swinging her hands, the water bottle Sandra held flies out of her hand, thru the air landing in a ditch in the street. The width of the ditch was so narrow, you couldn't have made the shot if you tried. Since it is pitch black in the ditch Sandra yells for help. HELP. A strange man appears. However, she chooses to get the bottle herself. Sandra removes her shoes to wade thru the mud to retrieve the worlds smallest bottle of water. All the while, Kim stands on the sidelines laughing hysterically.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. While in town visiting a popular destination known as Cabo Wabo, Kim and Sandra are approached by a cute blue eyed guy who calls himself Tom. Tom is smitten by Kim so he proceeds to buy them drinks to keep them there. They oblige. A set of cute guys sit behind them. The tall skinny guy who turned 40 invites them back to their resort that night, but they don't take them up on their offer. Instead, they head back to their own resort where Kim starts working on #3.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Kim takes a serious approach to getting out of timeshare spiels by concocting a never before had condition, known only to others, and gets a ride via ambulance in a major tropical storm to the Mexican hospital where mystery meds are put into her body. She spends the entire day resting (stoned) on drugs. She is on vacation after all. She receives a $4000 bill, more drugs and slippers for her trouble but still had to go to timeshare presentation. They are ruthless people after all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Brewhoe the horse trots quickly in an attempt to take first position over the other horse ridden by Kim named Toy Story, and his master Martin (pronounced Marteen). "I know the way!" Sadly, Brewhoe is squeezed back into his pre-determined position by his master. Can't blame him for trying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. The Playa Grande Resort thought long and hard about how to confuse their patrons. We prefer to think of it that way rather than the patrons just being confused. Elevators at the Ridge, a private section of the resort, are a never-ending sense of amusement. 2 is really 1 and 4 is out. Sometimes 3 is the required number to get out but yet again, sometimes 2 gets you out. It all depends on which elevator you choose. In addition, they created walkways that lead to no where. Ceilings go lower and lower like a fun house taking you to a dead end. Take the 2nd floor elevator from the lobby to the 3rd floor. Walk 1/4 mile down one hill and up another hill to yet another elevator on the 4th floor. Walk down the breezeway to another elevator where you can get to the main lobby on the 2nd floor that cannot be accessed any other way. Getting out of the resort on our first try will forever be our goal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. If you want to fly to and from Cabo and choose American Airlines, you'll be happy to know that not only do you get to visit Cabo, but you'll visit Dallas and L.A. as well. On the brighter side, you get a lot of extra miles!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. When you observe a group of people sitting around the outside of a Jacuzzi instead of enjoying the warmth inside of it, one might reconsider the action of walking directly into the said Jacuzzi since the temperature might be 109 degrees. Don’t mind the skin hanging from her body as she exits the water at lightening speed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Bar menu at Cabo Wabo, owned by Sammy Hagar&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/St407UBDXVI/AAAAAAAAAnM/Cd1knQBl_QA/s1600-h/P1030262.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394807597226483026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/St407UBDXVI/AAAAAAAAAnM/Cd1knQBl_QA/s320/P1030262.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sandra trying to get a picture with Cabo Wabo in the background. Kim found this very amusing. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394807610317785426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/St408EyQyVI/AAAAAAAAAnU/Jy8jDzn3HCY/s320/P1030264.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Someone else took our picture&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/St5A9NxqmkI/AAAAAAAAAqM/GrPt3pvivz0/s1600-h/P1030265.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394820824050604610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/St5A9NxqmkI/AAAAAAAAAqM/GrPt3pvivz0/s320/P1030265.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Kim has chest pains so she gets a ride in an ambulance to a Mexican hospital. Here she is being pampered by the paramedics&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/SunLBM4jVzI/AAAAAAAAAq4/8JHcc-1VvpU/s1600-h/cabo+kim+hospital+1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398068849878980402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/SunLBM4jVzI/AAAAAAAAAq4/8JHcc-1VvpU/s320/cabo+kim+hospital+1.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sandra following Kim who is on the gourney.  Smile!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/SunLAzxuxNI/AAAAAAAAAqw/KWmuoOQTB6k/s1600-h/Cabo+Kim+hospital.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398068843139482834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/SunLAzxuxNI/AAAAAAAAAqw/KWmuoOQTB6k/s320/Cabo+Kim+hospital.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The 3 day tropical storm was amazing. 90 degree weather and tons of rain. This is one of the clouds about to unleash itself on us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394807636021082802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/St409kiZ-rI/AAAAAAAAAnk/8Q7aaFWYyE4/s320/P1030270.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Apple tart dessert at Galeons Italian restaurant in Cabo. Delic.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/St40-aPlghI/AAAAAAAAAns/p8y4uiCQKFE/s1600-h/P1030273.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394807650437661202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/St40-aPlghI/AAAAAAAAAns/p8y4uiCQKFE/s320/P1030273.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sandra and Kim at Galeons. I left feeling like a weeble wobble. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394807984548852994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/St41R255tQI/AAAAAAAAAn0/GsRLtAimFp8/s320/P1030279.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;City lights from our balcony.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/St4_bHg15kI/AAAAAAAAAqE/RjshpTlEyME/s1600-h/P1030284.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394819138742249026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/St4_bHg15kI/AAAAAAAAAqE/RjshpTlEyME/s320/P1030284.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Kim rides Toy Story, I ride Brewhoe. (spelled differently I'm sure)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/St41UEI27TI/AAAAAAAAAoM/AqE2lgf1P4k/s1600-h/P1030301.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394808022460984626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/St41UEI27TI/AAAAAAAAAoM/AqE2lgf1P4k/s320/P1030301.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;On the beach&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394808036940745250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/St41U6FGiiI/AAAAAAAAAoU/35J9mFzW6Z4/s320/P1030307.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;This one one helluva large cacti&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394808436223712498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/St41sJhlHPI/AAAAAAAAAok/vYTXZ71Xge8/s320/P1030323.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mexican saddle horns are huge. Had to take a picture of it. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394808456098768306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/St41tTkKZbI/AAAAAAAAAo0/uqXmoma20N0/s320/P1030327.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Desert sunset&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394808424225056962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/St41rc04KMI/AAAAAAAAAoc/ypY5bxiqyws/s320/P1030309.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Looks like a good place for tires&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/St41sqMnNJI/AAAAAAAAAos/0S7iSVJ0SZ8/s1600-h/P1030324.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394808444994139282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/St41sqMnNJI/AAAAAAAAAos/0S7iSVJ0SZ8/s320/P1030324.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;More cactus&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394808469491283730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/St41uFdL9xI/AAAAAAAAAo8/R10glT7fhdc/s320/P1030328.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;We zip lined. Fun Fun fun!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/St49vYZaSFI/AAAAAAAAAp0/Zsh1FaYLyTA/s1600-h/P1030331.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394817287848609874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/St49vYZaSFI/AAAAAAAAAp0/Zsh1FaYLyTA/s320/P1030331.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/St4-ZhAvvQI/AAAAAAAAAp8/YWvepSDeBj8/s1600-h/P1030330.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394818011715583234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/St4-ZhAvvQI/AAAAAAAAAp8/YWvepSDeBj8/s320/P1030330.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/St42FOOf4NI/AAAAAAAAApE/VfhTGCL652w/s1600-h/P1030330.JPG"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3 days of tropical storms caused the desert to turn a beautiful green&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/St42G7tGQII/AAAAAAAAApU/exLRuFmhmwE/s1600-h/P1030334.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394808896370393218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/St42G7tGQII/AAAAAAAAApU/exLRuFmhmwE/s320/P1030334.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Friday night a Mexican rodeo group came to our resort for a show.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/St42HpA0wOI/AAAAAAAAApc/pDAuWWRqXas/s1600-h/P1030348.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394808908532728034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/St42HpA0wOI/AAAAAAAAApc/pDAuWWRqXas/s320/P1030348.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;When I returned home my kids were of course thrilled to see me. I opened a package I received and Shawna promptly turned the box into a toy. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/St42IOGsWkI/AAAAAAAAApk/u3DM4k9Zwzk/s1600-h/P1030349.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394808918489455170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/St42IOGsWkI/AAAAAAAAApk/u3DM4k9Zwzk/s320/P1030349.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;These flowers were delivered to my work as a thank you gift from Kim. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Thank you for the trip man!"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/St42RHQMgYI/AAAAAAAAAps/7vmMXSbOHB8/s1600-h/P1030352.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394809071269085570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/St42RHQMgYI/AAAAAAAAAps/7vmMXSbOHB8/s320/P1030352.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9036253476200281195-639912967377799330?l=twogirlsformama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=fc46eea18914405e&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/feeds/639912967377799330/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9036253476200281195&amp;postID=639912967377799330&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/639912967377799330'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/639912967377799330'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/2009/10/vignettes-of-cabo-october-2009.html' title='Vignettes of Cabo ~ October 2009'/><author><name>Sandra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00315637996102965055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18323623194236138350'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/St407UBDXVI/AAAAAAAAAnM/Cd1knQBl_QA/s72-c/P1030262.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9036253476200281195.post-7449394148015082528</id><published>2009-09-28T14:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-28T14:16:55.065-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><title type='text'>Interesting Family Cont~</title><content type='html'>Awhile back I wrote a post about my &lt;a href="http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/2008/12/interesting-family-members.html"&gt;cousin who is in prison&lt;/a&gt;. He was wrongfully accused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I recently learned that some very famous people wanted to do a movie on his story. I don't know why, but my cousin turned them down. According to his sister, in 1994 Robert DiNiro, Al Pacino and Val Kilmer all went to see him along with Michael Mann the producer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/SsEmWGhSKpI/AAAAAAAAAmc/psntzkI9eEI/s1600-h/Tommy+&amp;amp;+Robert+DiNero+1994.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/SsEmWGhSKpI/AAAAAAAAAmc/psntzkI9eEI/s1600-h/Tommy+&amp;amp;+Robert+DiNero+1994.jpg"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386628790461016722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 206px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/SsEmWGhSKpI/AAAAAAAAAmc/psntzkI9eEI/s400/Tommy+%26+Robert+DiNero+1994.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;How cool is that?? &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9036253476200281195-7449394148015082528?l=twogirlsformama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/feeds/7449394148015082528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9036253476200281195&amp;postID=7449394148015082528&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/7449394148015082528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/7449394148015082528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/2009/09/interesting-family-cont.html' title='Interesting Family Cont~'/><author><name>Sandra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00315637996102965055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18323623194236138350'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/SsEmWGhSKpI/AAAAAAAAAmc/psntzkI9eEI/s72-c/Tommy+%26+Robert+DiNero+1994.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9036253476200281195.post-7882030515568954991</id><published>2009-09-23T14:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T14:21:48.863-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sucky'/><title type='text'>Sucky</title><content type='html'>Today approximately 30 employees were layed off from my company from our IT group.  One of them is someone I really like very much.  She's a wealth of information, friendly, funny, has the greatest laugh ever, helps me A LOT and has been here 14 years.   I've been here 10 years. We've known each other a long time.  She scrapbooks her vacations. She's a very good scrapbooker. She brings her new scrapbooks around to show us what she's done and the trip she took.  She just invited me to a scrapbook convention thingy taking place in Sacramento, but it's the weekend I leave for Cabo so I can't go.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's been crying pretty much ever since she found out this morning.  She admits she had a feeling it could happen but she was still surprised and unprepared.  She gets 21 weeks of severance.  Even that may not be enough time to find a new job here in Silicon Valley.  It's a mess out there.  Just a mess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm really going to miss her.  :0(    This is so sucky. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To top that off, my other friend here who'se been at this company 7 years is leaving for a new job she found. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's gonna suck around here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9036253476200281195-7882030515568954991?l=twogirlsformama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/feeds/7882030515568954991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9036253476200281195&amp;postID=7882030515568954991&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/7882030515568954991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/7882030515568954991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/2009/09/sucky.html' title='Sucky'/><author><name>Sandra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00315637996102965055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18323623194236138350'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9036253476200281195.post-3194472787985053857</id><published>2009-09-21T14:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-21T14:31:32.795-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stained Glass Artistry</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;My uncle is a stained glass artist. He's been doing it for 30 years or more. How cool is it to have talent in some artistic form. This is a photo of one of his pieces.  Ain't it rockin?!  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/SrfwcTljkTI/AAAAAAAAAl8/0NLkYgLMU6o/s1600-h/demartinifishfina.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384036248629514546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 199px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/SrfwcTljkTI/AAAAAAAAAl8/0NLkYgLMU6o/s400/demartinifishfina.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9036253476200281195-3194472787985053857?l=twogirlsformama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/feeds/3194472787985053857/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9036253476200281195&amp;postID=3194472787985053857&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/3194472787985053857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/3194472787985053857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/2009/09/stained-glass-artistry.html' title='Stained Glass Artistry'/><author><name>Sandra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00315637996102965055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18323623194236138350'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/SrfwcTljkTI/AAAAAAAAAl8/0NLkYgLMU6o/s72-c/demartinifishfina.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9036253476200281195.post-7663902279014296347</id><published>2009-09-18T15:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-18T16:07:50.894-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bullet points are my life lately</title><content type='html'>I have so many things going on right now that bullet points have become my life.  Below are things I'm doing, thinking about, worrying about, or need to do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I'm not a millionaire.  Damn it.  The 24 super lotto tickets we purchased last week didn't even win $1.  So much for 9/9/09 being lucky. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  After school activities may cause my hair to fall out.  Oh wait, my hair is already falling out. &lt;br /&gt;I have Small child in Daisy's one a month and now cheerleading twice a week.  Older child wants to do &lt;em&gt;everything&lt;/em&gt;.  Piano, basketball, volleyball, choir. &lt;br /&gt;I have signed her up for church choir every Monday and now volleyball, which we don't really know the schedule yet.  Once volleyball ends basketball begins. Piano is out. We don't even &lt;em&gt;have &lt;/em&gt;a piano.  Then she suggested guitar.  I gave her a blank stare.  Todd is worried because even in 3rd grade homework is taking longer.  It should only take 30-45 minutes but he likes to separate the kids because they concentrate better alone so it's more like an hour or more.  I'm not even home from work until after homework is done (smart ain't I?) so I can't help out much.  We'll play this by ear and see how sports/activities impact school work, or more to the point, my marriage.  Live and learn. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  I lost another 2.5 lbs this week. I'm down in the 146 zone now.  Woohoo!  That's huge for me.&lt;br /&gt;4 weeks until Cabo.  I have got to drop another 5lbs or more.  My friend who I'm going with is really pretty and skinny.  It sucks to be around pretty &amp;amp; skinny people when you feel like a blob.  Women, you know what I'm talkin' about. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.   I have a classmate from high school who is deathly ill. I'm not close to her but she's on my Facebook so I see her progress.  I feel so bad for her.  I really hope she recovers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  On Tuesday I participated on my first school board. I'm the new Secretary on our board. I had to type minutes like a mad woman.  It was a little hairy at first but I found my groove.  I had to go onto the Internet the next day to clarify some things I heard but didn't know how to spell. Gotta luv that Internet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. My husband, daughter's and my Oldest's BFF are camping right now. They had an in-service day so Todd took off work.  I'll be meeting them up there after work.  Traffic will SUCK.  We're camping at a new campground (new to us) in the redwoods near Scotts Valley, CA. It's supposed to be a hot weekend so I'm hoping the trees and swimming pool work to our advantage.  Also, this is the first time BFF has ever been camping in her whole life. I'm excited for her to be able to experience something so fun. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.  My cars brakes still need to be done.  Where are the fix it gremlins when you need them? What was that movie with Jessica Lang where the little alien flying things fixed everything? I need them.  Short Circuit I think. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.  I know so many people with birthday's today.  New year's eve babies I think yes? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. I wrote an anonymous letter to my neighbors about their barking little dog.  It barks constantly in the AM when they leave for work.  It's even woken us up.  I wrote a nice letter so hopefully they take care of it.  I can see into their backyard from my upstairs window. The dog runs around barking for no reason other than it's retarded.  No offense to the really retarded people.  Their yard is full of crap that it's like a dump back there.  Some of my neighbors are totol pigs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm done.  Have a fantastic weekend everyone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9036253476200281195-7663902279014296347?l=twogirlsformama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/feeds/7663902279014296347/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9036253476200281195&amp;postID=7663902279014296347&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/7663902279014296347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/7663902279014296347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/2009/09/bullet-points-are-my-life-lately.html' title='Bullet points are my life lately'/><author><name>Sandra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00315637996102965055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18323623194236138350'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9036253476200281195.post-5084575607794562445</id><published>2009-09-09T18:00:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-09T18:10:17.082-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A quick list of my life lately</title><content type='html'>So what is going on in my life lately? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  Rental dogs will finally be separated.  The Pres of the rescue has decided that the poodle/bichon mix can go stay somewhere else.  That will help me tremendously.  The two rental dogs together are a team to be reckoned with.  Rosie, my dog, plays with Rental dog rat terrier so we'll keep her. Only, she's the hyper one. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  I have a Daisy meeting tonight for just the adults.  Daisy's are Jr. Girl Scouts.  I hope they have wine.  I'm a leader on paper for the 1st grade troop. I was sort of horn-swaggled into agreeing to be a leader. I suck at that stuff.  I didn't attend one meeting last year.  But, if I wanted my youngest child to be a Daisy someone needed to be a leader of her troop. Thankfully the cadet troop is running the program so really, all I have to do is provide forms and crap.  I can sort of do that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.   23 employees and myself all put in $1 for the Super Lotto Plus lottery here in CA so I got 24 quick picks today.  It's up to $23M.  I figured since it's 09/09/09 that maybe that brings a bit of luck.  If we win the entire finance group (well, not all) will be missing tomorrow.  Sweet!  I hope it happens. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  My car desperately needs the brake drums turned. They grind and the car shakes at stops.  It's a Honda Odyssey and every 40K miles this happens.  I already had this done once. My old boss had a Honda Pilot. They use the same chassis as the Odyssey and he had the same problem.  The van now has 80k plus miles. I'm stalling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  Shawna went to the dentist yesterday and got a clean bill of teeth.  Her lower center tooth is wiggly. Her first loose tooth!!!  She can't wait for it to fall out. She even requested corn on the cob. Too funny. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.  I really need to pee right now so I'm going to end this post.  Have a great one!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9036253476200281195-5084575607794562445?l=twogirlsformama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/feeds/5084575607794562445/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9036253476200281195&amp;postID=5084575607794562445&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/5084575607794562445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/5084575607794562445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/2009/09/quick-list-of-my-life-lately.html' title='A quick list of my life lately'/><author><name>Sandra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00315637996102965055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18323623194236138350'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9036253476200281195.post-3243222830307263799</id><published>2009-09-08T18:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-08T19:10:56.925-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='camping'/><title type='text'>Labor Day Weekend Camping</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I know how much my regular readers (all 1 of you) enjoy my camping stories. This past weekend my family and I went to Santa Cruz to a KOA campground. For those of you non-camping folks, KOA's are campgrounds which are usually pet friendly and located all over the Unites States. They boast about clean bathrooms, pizza delivered to your campsite, activities for kids and other fun things. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This weekend we had to bring Rental Dogs with us. We have 2 foster dogs living with us besides our own dog. Rental dogs barked and whined a hell of a lot so they spent a good amount of their time crated in the trailer. Hmmmmph. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My oldest went on a mechanical bull&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/LaborDayPaulabull.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 640px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 426px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/LaborDayPaulabull.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My youngest rock climbed. Yes in her bathing suit. What do you rock climb in?? &lt;a href="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/LaborDayShawnarock.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 640px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 426px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/LaborDayShawnarock.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was some Dead Man's Diving going on at the pool area&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/LaborDayShawnawater-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 479px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 639px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/LaborDayShawnawater-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I enjoyed many hours inside the dog corral because as my husband referred to me, I was the Dog Whisperer. They were only quiet (and then not even) if I sat in there with them. A few men came by joking, wondering if I was in a time out or was my husband going to let me out. &lt;a href="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/LABORDAYSANDRAROSIE.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 640px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 426px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/LABORDAYSANDRAROSIE.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paula and I also rode banana bikes together. For $5 you can rent them for 30 minutes or $8 for an hour. Thank Gawd we only rented them for 30 minutes. See her, not even sweating?! Yeah, that was NOT me. I could barely go down the stairs of the trailer after I was done. #suckstogetold&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/LABORDAYPAULABANANABIKE.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 640px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 426px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/LABORDAYPAULABANANABIKE.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;We met some fun new friends&lt;a href="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/LaborDaytrailer.jpg"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 640px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 426px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/LaborDaytrailer.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lastly there was Rental Dog.  He's one of two.  This is one happy camper. Too bad he's not going camping with us again. In two weeks when we go camping again, he and his partner in crime are going to doggy daycare for the weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/LABORDAYMARLON.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 426px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 640px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/LABORDAYMARLON.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9036253476200281195-3243222830307263799?l=twogirlsformama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/feeds/3243222830307263799/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9036253476200281195&amp;postID=3243222830307263799&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/3243222830307263799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/3243222830307263799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/2009/09/labor-day-weekend-camping.html' title='Labor Day Weekend Camping'/><author><name>Sandra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00315637996102965055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18323623194236138350'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9036253476200281195.post-3577985844382898044</id><published>2009-09-03T15:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-03T15:39:18.714-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='concert'/><title type='text'>Def Leppard ROCKS!</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I attended a Def Leppard concert. For those of you who are either too young, too old, or just live under a rock they're an 80's rock band.  A Kick ass 80's rock band. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the mid to late 80's I was 16.  I had a power blue '66 Mustang with a kick ASS stereo system and gold Enkie rims.  Guys asked me if the mustang belonged to my boyfriend. HA!  I loved to play Def Leppard and blast it to annoy all the cars around me. The base in their songs is hard and so awesome. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I rocked OUT.  There was a small bummer because the lead singer had laryngitis.  You could still hear him but his voice sounded raw.  I was just thrilled he didn't cancel on us. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, too all you Def Leppard fans I say this... Gunter glieben glauten globen&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9036253476200281195-3577985844382898044?l=twogirlsformama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/feeds/3577985844382898044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9036253476200281195&amp;postID=3577985844382898044&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/3577985844382898044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/3577985844382898044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/2009/09/def-leppard-rocks.html' title='Def Leppard ROCKS!'/><author><name>Sandra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00315637996102965055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18323623194236138350'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9036253476200281195.post-7291633763911885761</id><published>2009-08-21T17:30:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-21T17:38:15.178-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Back to school shopping</title><content type='html'>Last night I ran to Walmart to tackle the 2009-2010 School Supply List I've had since June. &lt;em&gt;(like any of you shopped in June for your kids school supplies.  heh)&lt;/em&gt;  My school had a pre-order your kids school supplies form before school ended.  I didn't sign up. I'm sure I had a great reason at the time.  Wish I knew because next June I'm signing up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to Walmart. Many of the hot items are gone.  Big Pink erasers. Gone.  70 sheet spiral notebooks. gone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In addition, my kids school has teachers who prefer Prang watercolors over Crayola (what every friggin store carries!) so I called Aaron Brothers Art and Framing store and Mike (my new love) has several. I told him to put them aside and I'll be there tonight for them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What else couldn't I find? Well, since you asked, I couldn't find flash cards. Paula needs division and multiplication flash cards this year for 3rd grade. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Going out again tonight with all the other last minute shoppers.  It's like Christmas Eve out there right now.  School isles are packed.  It's ugly. Don't go out there if you can help it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9036253476200281195-7291633763911885761?l=twogirlsformama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/feeds/7291633763911885761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9036253476200281195&amp;postID=7291633763911885761&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/7291633763911885761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/7291633763911885761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/2009/08/back-to-school-shopping.html' title='Back to school shopping'/><author><name>Sandra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00315637996102965055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18323623194236138350'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9036253476200281195.post-2055915405954877090</id><published>2009-08-14T13:38:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-14T14:01:47.759-07:00</updated><title type='text'>homemade tampons</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I have a friend who is very Martha Stuart-y. She pickles and jars food. She sews stuff. To me that is very MS-y since I don't do any of that. Her latest craze is sewing handmade reusable menstrual pads.  They're really nice actually. She's got all sorts of fabric with different patterns. She has a wildlife theme, french country and even a chamo one. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Aren't these cute?? Okay, maybe not cute, but you get what I'm saying. &lt;em&gt;(just nod and agree with me)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/SoXPYbQbMBI/AAAAAAAAAlU/hFwvSNyYZ4w/s1600-h/handmade+1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369926149249642514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 338px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/SoXPYbQbMBI/AAAAAAAAAlU/hFwvSNyYZ4w/s400/handmade+1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/SoXPY7xN-tI/AAAAAAAAAlc/wu_htHEEsOc/s1600-h/handmade+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369926157977123538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 335px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/SoXPY7xN-tI/AAAAAAAAAlc/wu_htHEEsOc/s400/handmade+2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/SoXPXwf9B4I/AAAAAAAAAlM/qxx8e3WAFFc/s1600-h/handmade.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369926137772050306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 308px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/SoXPXwf9B4I/AAAAAAAAAlM/qxx8e3WAFFc/s400/handmade.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;What kinda gives me the heeeby jeebies is something else she found on Etsy.com that she may embark on. Reusable washable tampons. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Swear to Gawd.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Look here &lt;a href="http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=29249092&amp;amp;ref=sr_gallery_20&amp;amp;&amp;amp;ga_search_query=tampon+&amp;amp;ga_search_type=handmade&amp;amp;ga_page=&amp;amp;order=date_desc&amp;amp;includes%5b%5d=tags&amp;amp;includes%5b%5d=title"&gt;Cotton and bamboo tampons&lt;/a&gt; and even here &lt;a href="http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=29095311&amp;amp;ref=sr_gallery_4&amp;amp;&amp;amp;ga_search_query=tampon+&amp;amp;ga_search_type=handmade&amp;amp;ga_page=3&amp;amp;order=date_desc&amp;amp;includes%5b%5d=tags&amp;amp;includes%5b%5d=title"&gt;washable tampons&lt;/a&gt; if you don't believe me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now, I did cloth diapers for my kids (part-time) and had to wash out poop and pee myself &lt;em&gt;(okay, the washing machine did it but I had to put it in there)&lt;/em&gt;  I'm also concerned about the environment too, so I can appreciate someones desire to make something environmentally friendly, however, inserting &lt;strong&gt;fabric&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;into &lt;/strong&gt;my hoohaa and leaving it there for a few hours doesn't sit well with me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Am I weird?? Is it just me??  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Would you or do you use one of these??&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9036253476200281195-2055915405954877090?l=twogirlsformama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/feeds/2055915405954877090/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9036253476200281195&amp;postID=2055915405954877090&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/2055915405954877090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/2055915405954877090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/2009/08/homemade-tampons.html' title='homemade tampons'/><author><name>Sandra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00315637996102965055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18323623194236138350'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/SoXPYbQbMBI/AAAAAAAAAlU/hFwvSNyYZ4w/s72-c/handmade+1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9036253476200281195.post-7474770195701190292</id><published>2009-08-04T11:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-04T12:10:20.287-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cows'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='neighborhood'/><title type='text'>I Heard a herd of cows</title><content type='html'>Today the rancher, who owns the cows on our hills, decide to move the cows to a new location.  Normally the cows are very quiet.  You'll hear an occasional Moo of course, but today those cows wanted to be heard!  It was non-stop mooing for a full hour at least as they made their way across the hill. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was one time several years ago that a cow behind our house became stuck.  He must have fallen into a ravine and literally couldn't get unstuck.  He was so noisy.  Finally a helicopter actually came to get him out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we moved into our house in 2004, there was a house across our street that I refer to as the "Ugly Brown House".  A year or more ago she finally put some money into a new roof and removed the horrible brown siding.  She also has a pool that I'm told the city brought her fish that eat mosquito's because she refused to properly care for the pool.  We've joked that a bull or cow is drowned in her pool and you'll never know it because of how nasty it is. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her backyard opens up to one of the hills where the cows roam.  (I have hills on 3 sides of me.)  Next to her house lives our other neighbor who I'll call House is Never Done. House is Never Done has spent a fortune for the past several years to turn his plain house into a french cottage. I must admit, it's very nice, inside and out. I certainly appreciate the work he's had contractors put into it, but it seems as if he's never satisfied and it may never be finished. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, one day several years ago, Todd was at House is Never Done's house with Paula when they realized there was a cow in the Ugly Brown House backyard.  Todd lifted Paula up over the fence and she was staring straight into the face of a black Angus bull.  Holy Cow!  (pun intended!)  Ugly Brown House may have closed in her fence by now.  She's an odd duck that one. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll leave you with the below joke I found online. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A lady from the city and her traveling companion were riding the train through Vermont when she noticed some cows.&lt;br /&gt;"What a cute bunch of cows!" she remarked.&lt;br /&gt;"Not a bunch, herd", her friend replied.&lt;br /&gt;"Heard of what?"&lt;br /&gt;"Herd of cows."&lt;br /&gt;"Of course I've heard of cows."&lt;br /&gt;"No, a cow herd."&lt;br /&gt;"What do I care what a cow heard. I have no secrets to keep from a cow!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9036253476200281195-7474770195701190292?l=twogirlsformama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/feeds/7474770195701190292/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9036253476200281195&amp;postID=7474770195701190292&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/7474770195701190292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/7474770195701190292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-heard-herd-of-cows.html' title='I Heard a herd of cows'/><author><name>Sandra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00315637996102965055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18323623194236138350'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9036253476200281195.post-8759256665996916494</id><published>2009-08-03T10:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-03T11:19:41.757-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='animals'/><title type='text'>Ace Ventura lives at my house</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;My husband has an uncanny ability to find what I consider unwanted critters. I realize that I live in the hills and am therefore, closer to God's creatures. That doesn't mean I have to like it. I don't mind the cows, deer or wild turkeys that frequent my neighborhood. I can even live with the skunks if they stay upwind. It's the creepier creatures that bother me. Thank goodness it's rarely me who comes across them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have a gopher snake named Snake. Snake was in my backyard near our BBQ when my husband saw him. Todd grew up with snakes so you can imagine his joy. We feed the snake, house the snake in a glass aquarium and pay electricity for Snake so he can be snuggly warm. (rolling eyes)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many years ago my husband came across a tarantula in our backyard. It was a big one too. He put it in a nice show and tell container (one of my favorite Tupperware!) and Paula brought him to preschool the next day for their science table. We have an abundance of Black Widows in my backyard too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have raccoons that come frequent our backyard at night scavenging for food. Last night, Todd turned on our BBQ to cook chicken and out flew a scorched rat! That's a first and I hope a last.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Here are a just few pictures I have so you can get an idea of what I'm talking about. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A moth Todd got to land on his shorts.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 640px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 480px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/MauiMoth.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Snake &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/DecSnake.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 640px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 480px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/DecSnake.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Our industrial strength bug zapper. It goes off non-stop.  &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/P1010036.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 640px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 480px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/P1010036.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;the cows on our hills&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;across the street from my house&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/Febuary2007019.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 640px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 480px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i41.photobucket.com/albums/e294/sraeside/Febuary2007019.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Turkeys behind our house on the hill in February 2009&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/Snco9s-D_qI/AAAAAAAAAk8/d6nM9vcmNeM/s1600-h/TurkeysFeb.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365802521543835298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/Snco9s-D_qI/AAAAAAAAAk8/d6nM9vcmNeM/s400/TurkeysFeb.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;THE tarantula in our backyard&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/Snco9KQhZVI/AAAAAAAAAkk/20VOvbvIito/s1600-h/critter1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365802512226018642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/Snco9KQhZVI/AAAAAAAAAkk/20VOvbvIito/s400/critter1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;This snake Todd did not bring home and was further down our hill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/Snco99THdCI/AAAAAAAAAlE/Tdhq0zsv778/s1600-h/snake.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365802525927109666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 157px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/Snco99THdCI/AAAAAAAAAlE/Tdhq0zsv778/s400/snake.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Two ducks who want inside my house for some reason&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/Snco9a2-acI/AAAAAAAAAks/tZsuB2R9hqs/s1600-h/duck1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365802516682271170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/Snco9a2-acI/AAAAAAAAAks/tZsuB2R9hqs/s400/duck1.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9036253476200281195-8759256665996916494?l=twogirlsformama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/feeds/8759256665996916494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9036253476200281195&amp;postID=8759256665996916494&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/8759256665996916494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/8759256665996916494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/2009/08/ace-ventura-lives-at-my-house.html' title='Ace Ventura lives at my house'/><author><name>Sandra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00315637996102965055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18323623194236138350'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/Snco9s-D_qI/AAAAAAAAAk8/d6nM9vcmNeM/s72-c/TurkeysFeb.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9036253476200281195.post-5121827251851029492</id><published>2009-07-31T18:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-31T18:27:17.456-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Welding mask or sun visor?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Here in my neck of the woods it would appear a memo has gone out to a certain ethnic group, which will remain nameless, that wearing regular size sunglasses are so &lt;em&gt;yesterday&lt;/em&gt;.  Here in Northern California many folks have kicked it up a notch.  Today,  a sun visor that resembles a welding helmet is the preferred method of keeping sun off your face.  These over sized sun visors are all the rage here in Silicon Valley.  In case you haven't seen one I've included a couple here for you. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can sport your favorite country.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/SnOXU5i8H0I/AAAAAAAAAkc/C-fMJHFIeIk/s1600-h/fobvisor.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364797966428938050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/SnOXU5i8H0I/AAAAAAAAAkc/C-fMJHFIeIk/s400/fobvisor.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sexy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/SnOXUpQ-89I/AAAAAAAAAkU/IP2NY1cRTdU/s1600-h/asian_lady_visor2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364797962058658770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 294px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 351px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/SnOXUpQ-89I/AAAAAAAAAkU/IP2NY1cRTdU/s400/asian_lady_visor2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Don't you want one?  Admit it.  You know you do. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9036253476200281195-5121827251851029492?l=twogirlsformama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/feeds/5121827251851029492/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9036253476200281195&amp;postID=5121827251851029492&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/5121827251851029492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/5121827251851029492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/2009/07/welding-mask-or-sun-visor.html' title='Welding mask or sun visor?'/><author><name>Sandra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00315637996102965055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18323623194236138350'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/SnOXU5i8H0I/AAAAAAAAAkc/C-fMJHFIeIk/s72-c/fobvisor.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9036253476200281195.post-3772400791565684604</id><published>2009-07-30T10:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-30T10:33:56.061-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shawna'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny'/><title type='text'>Saw something shiny</title><content type='html'>My youngest child, Shawna, is 6.5 years old. My oldest child, Paula, is 8 years old. Paula is very organized and methodical. Her room is usually tidy and she can usually find her things even if under clutter. She does get distracted but not like her younger sibling. When you tell Paula to do something she will complete the said act in a reasonable amount of time. When you tell Shawna to do something, more than likely it won't get done. Shawna starts out with the intention to do said act, but she easily gets distracted. We joke that she'll see something shiny that takes her attention away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning, for example, I helped her get dressed (because if I don't it doesn't happen) and walked her into the bathroom where all she had to do is brush her teeth. I go back into my room to fix my hair that is not cooperating at all. 5 minutes later she still hasn't brushed her teeth. I remind her again to hurry up and brush her teeth. I go downstairs to pop their breakfast of a chocolate chip waffle into the toaster oven, &lt;em&gt;because I'm very Martha Stewart that way&lt;/em&gt;, and 5 more minutes go by. Still no Shawna.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shawna! Hurry up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She has a small mouth people. She hasn't lost 1 single baby tooth. What is she doing up there?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally she comes down. Now we have to get her shoes on. Where are her shoes? They're not in the shoe room next to the kitchen like they're supposed to be. They're upstairs. &lt;em&gt;Gah!&lt;/em&gt; So she runs upstairs to get them. 2 minutes pass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shawna! Hurry up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She brings down the shoes but now we're so late she has to put them on in the car. This is a typical morning in my house. If you do not shuffle behind Shawna ensuring that each task gets accomplished, minutes turn into hours and the act does not get completed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you have a child like this??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been awhile since I shared pictures. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paula on 4th of July for the bike parade. She came in 1st place for her age group.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/SnHYpm5htMI/AAAAAAAAAkM/QSjAFMTG6AY/s1600-h/july+4th+2009+paula.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364306840503039170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/SnHYpm5htMI/AAAAAAAAAkM/QSjAFMTG6AY/s400/july+4th+2009+paula.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is Shawna. She too came in 1st place for her age group. Their dad does a fine job of decorating!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/SnHYpf0aI4I/AAAAAAAAAkE/l7vSwSNX0Rs/s1600-h/july+4th+2009+shawna.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364306838602523522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/SnHYpf0aI4I/AAAAAAAAAkE/l7vSwSNX0Rs/s400/july+4th+2009+shawna.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9036253476200281195-3772400791565684604?l=twogirlsformama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/feeds/3772400791565684604/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9036253476200281195&amp;postID=3772400791565684604&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/3772400791565684604'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/3772400791565684604'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/2009/07/saw-something-shiny.html' title='Saw something shiny'/><author><name>Sandra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00315637996102965055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18323623194236138350'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mKy6JJzqw-U/SnHYpm5htMI/AAAAAAAAAkM/QSjAFMTG6AY/s72-c/july+4th+2009+paula.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9036253476200281195.post-5714336846296968085</id><published>2009-07-28T16:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-28T17:10:22.388-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='save a broken heart'/><title type='text'>Save a Broken Heart</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;In my mid 20's I lived with a gal named Michelle for a few years.  Michelle is a kick. She and I laughed non-stop when we first met.  My mom and I picked her up to go the airport where we headed for Richmond VA for my friends wedding.  I was BF with the bride and she was BF with the brides brother.  We worked down the street from each other and lived not too far from each other growing up, but it took my friend Jenny to bring us together.  &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Today Michelle posted something on her Facebook that I feel I need to put out to our wonderful blogspere.  Michelle's dear friend and co-worker, whose name is Elizabeth, is the mother of a 4 year old child who needs a heart transplant.  They're insurance has reached its cap. If you or anyone you know would be willing to help them out they'd really appreciate it. Here is the link to their site and it tells Aaron's story.  I've also included her last post below.  &lt;/em&gt;&lt;a href="http://saveabrokenheart.com/"&gt;&lt;em&gt;http://saveabrokenheart.com/&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is Elizabeth Tanner's story: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My name is Elizabeth Tanner and I am mom to 4 wonderful boys Nicholas 14, Noah 9, Ethan would be 6 and Aaron whom this blog is for is 4 years old. Aaron was born 4 years ago with a congenital heart defect called Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrom. It is a very major heart defect that only the left side of your heart works. He has had three open heart surgeries amongst others and as of May 30th he is in renal failure and now is going to need a kidney transplant. I was just informed today that his heart is not handleing the stress and is suffering he is going to need a heart transplant at the same time makeing him one of a very few that need a multiple organ transplant. I am beside myself I truly do not know how much more I can handle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4 years ago 6 weeks after Aaron was born we lost our then 27 month old son Ethan to what is called hypotropic cardiomyopathy. It was devastating to our family he was never diagnosed so it happened very suddenly. Through our family and friends and there emotional support and love we have made it this farr. I am starting this blog because I realy want to share Aarons story with many he is a miracle and the biggest fighter you have ever seen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God has a reason for all things in this life we do not know what it holds for us. Aaron is here for a purpose I have been told that by many so I have to share with the world what is happening. Ethan was here on this earth with us for such a short time but he was here long enough for Aaron to be born. We have suffered emensly for loosing him my grief and the grief of my family I cannot even put into words. I keep trying to put aside my grief to take care of my son Aaron. We are truly going to need help from the outside. We have to start fundraising the transplant will take place in UCLA . He will have to wait until one is available I dont know much about the process but I will learn all I can in whatever time frame that is given to me. It is going to cost more than our Insurance covers us for we have a lifetime maximum of 350,000 and we are already very close his antirejection medication after surgery alone is more than $7,000 a month. We need help. my number is 925-899-1010 I am in the process of trying to set something on the blog to donate but you can just contact me in the meantime.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9036253476200281195-5714336846296968085?l=twogirlsformama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/feeds/5714336846296968085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9036253476200281195&amp;postID=5714336846296968085&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/5714336846296968085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9036253476200281195/posts/default/5714336846296968085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twogirlsformama.blogspot.com/2009/07/save-broken-heart.html' title='Save a Broken Heart'/><author><name>Sandra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00315637996102965055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18323623194236138350'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry></feed>