<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982</id><updated>2012-02-16T22:10:29.143-06:00</updated><category term='Quilt'/><title type='text'>I was laughing, actually laughing</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>71</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-1909035165678572260</id><published>2012-01-25T10:17:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-25T10:17:03.261-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;I saw this the other day and it really hit home with me!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1RjFfC_efDs/TyAqpKGu99I/AAAAAAAAALY/onQ9u6m-4F0/s1600/Picnik+collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" gda="true" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1RjFfC_efDs/TyAqpKGu99I/AAAAAAAAALY/onQ9u6m-4F0/s320/Picnik+collage.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-1909035165678572260?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/1909035165678572260/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2012/01/i-saw-this-other-day-and-it-really-hit.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/1909035165678572260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/1909035165678572260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2012/01/i-saw-this-other-day-and-it-really-hit.html' title=''/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1RjFfC_efDs/TyAqpKGu99I/AAAAAAAAALY/onQ9u6m-4F0/s72-c/Picnik+collage.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-6440988913020302482</id><published>2011-11-28T16:33:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-11-28T16:33:03.347-06:00</updated><title type='text'>What's up???</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"&gt;I hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving! I took a couple of extra days off and spent some time with Evan.&amp;nbsp; I was extremely lazy. After dinner at my parents' house on Thursday I didn't leave my house. 3 whole days of living in jammies. I did do some much needed house work, but other than that it was football and craft time. I started a project Sunday - one for all the kids in the family. Grinch pillowcases with their names on them. I ordered the material to make a quilt...but I haven't gotten around to it. So 6 pillowcases it shall be. I have finished 2... only 4 more to go!﻿&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OqY5Q7GsNGc/TtQLSWu9RhI/AAAAAAAAALQ/5T9LL-gNEMQ/s1600/pillowcase.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" dda="true" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OqY5Q7GsNGc/TtQLSWu9RhI/AAAAAAAAALQ/5T9LL-gNEMQ/s320/pillowcase.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-6440988913020302482?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/6440988913020302482/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/11/whats-up.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/6440988913020302482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/6440988913020302482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/11/whats-up.html' title='What&apos;s up???'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OqY5Q7GsNGc/TtQLSWu9RhI/AAAAAAAAALQ/5T9LL-gNEMQ/s72-c/pillowcase.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-178614078282720937</id><published>2011-10-06T15:36:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-06T15:36:47.862-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I think this says it all some days...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nzjFVmuSW18/To4RUsirvbI/AAAAAAAAALM/QRpEOsqeRnc/s1600/PART_1317931870949.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" kca="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nzjFVmuSW18/To4RUsirvbI/AAAAAAAAALM/QRpEOsqeRnc/s1600/PART_1317931870949.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-178614078282720937?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/178614078282720937/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/10/i-think-this-says-it-all-some-days.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/178614078282720937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/178614078282720937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/10/i-think-this-says-it-all-some-days.html' title='I think this says it all some days...'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nzjFVmuSW18/To4RUsirvbI/AAAAAAAAALM/QRpEOsqeRnc/s72-c/PART_1317931870949.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-4055605474307462568</id><published>2011-09-20T10:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-20T10:38:38.991-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thoughts</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Today is a slow day at work. I'm running reports that are taking ages, so I have time to sit and think. A dangerous notion.&amp;nbsp;What I've been&amp;nbsp;thinking about lately is the people in my life. And people who aren't directly IN my life, but have inspired me to&amp;nbsp;DO better. To BE better. To take what is given and do what I can with it. Life is not about being pampered. No one is &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;owed&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; happiness. To quote a friend "The world is not here to make you happy. You have to do that yourself."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The people IN my life:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I'm lucky. I have an incredible family. Wonderful friends. People who supported me and cheered me on when I was going through my treatments. I have a husband that does love me. Yes, I complain about having to keep him in line...but I don't doubt his love. I have a son that I adore. He is growing into quite the charming, responsible&amp;nbsp;young man. Yes, there were times when he was younger that I wondered why I had a child. And I'm sure there will be more of those times when he hits those teen years. But through all of those times and hard work I have to remember that I am the one that brought him here. It is MY responsibility to raise him to the best of my ability. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;People who have inspired me to do better:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;GB. A former co-worker. We were never close. Wouldn't even call us friends. Co-workers. She was recently diagnosed with ovarian cancer. She isn't even 40. She has 2&amp;nbsp;small children. She has a blog on caringbridge.org where she has been logging her journey. Reading that has inspired me. Her attitude is incredible. Her family has rallied around her and she is THANKFUL. Her latest entry is titled "Luckiest girl in the world". &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;MT. E is a nephew of a friend. He is 11. He was diagnosed with stage 4 high risk neuroblasto&lt;wbr&gt;&lt;span class="wbr"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;ma. Cancer. E and his mother, MT, have both&amp;nbsp;been an inspiration. I don't know how they do it. They have spent the last 5 years getting E the treatment he needs at St. Jude. He has been so strong for so long. And now the end of his fight is coming. There are no treatments left. No options. They are just watching him decline. Yet, she holds it together for him, her other son and her husband. She finds the joy in the small accomplishments. Life certainly isn't handing her bon-bons. But she is refusing to sit in the corner and give up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;So, when I'm feeling sorry for myself, when I wonder why I should keep trudging along when things don't go my way... I look to all of these people to find the strength I need. The strength I want. The strength I want Evan to have.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-4055605474307462568?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/4055605474307462568/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/09/thoughts.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/4055605474307462568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/4055605474307462568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/09/thoughts.html' title='Thoughts'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-3771106566118994194</id><published>2011-09-08T13:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-08T13:10:07.649-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I think I've fallen off the edge of the earth</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"&gt;This summer flew by way too fast. School has started and it feels like I accomplished nothing this summer. That bedroom I wanted to arrange? Still a disaster. Craft projects? Started, but not completed. Seeing friends? Well, THAT I did accomplish, though not as much as I would like. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Sips And Storkes with LW - she is the person that introduced me to my dear husband. She gets a lot of blame when I'm mad.﻿&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9d-GeTOIIng/TmkBxtTzQLI/AAAAAAAAALI/L3gHIzGq8ok/s1600/Sips+N+Strokes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" nba="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9d-GeTOIIng/TmkBxtTzQLI/AAAAAAAAALI/L3gHIzGq8ok/s320/Sips+N+Strokes.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"&gt;I also went to see 100 Monkeys again - and they were just as good the second time, if not better. Love, love, love the Monkeys. And they had 2 bands with them that were awesome - so I have new music to listen to. Now, I just need to get ready for the Foo Fighters in Atlanta!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"&gt;One project that I did finish (though not before school started) was getting Evan's hair cut. I've always said that I didn't care if his hair was long - as long as it was clean and neat. Well, when puberty hit, neat went out the window. The longer it grows, the more body it has in it. And by body, I mean giant curls that can't be tamed. And another problem - he has SO MUCH hair that it wouldn't dry. The Before pics are at least&amp;nbsp;an hour after he showered and his hair is STILL WET. It looks like he has gel in it, but no. Just water. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QESH4-KX-x0/Tmj7a3uQVBI/AAAAAAAAAK8/VMEVE1aU2LQ/s1600/Before+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" nba="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QESH4-KX-x0/Tmj7a3uQVBI/AAAAAAAAAK8/VMEVE1aU2LQ/s320/Before+1.jpg" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kVpFLMSNHHg/Tmj7cfdzg3I/AAAAAAAAALA/0hBTxw69HEc/s1600/Before+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" nba="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kVpFLMSNHHg/Tmj7cfdzg3I/AAAAAAAAALA/0hBTxw69HEc/s320/Before+2.jpg" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;So, I turned to Peter - the most awesome hair guy ever. Evan thinks that whatever Peter says is law, so all I had to do was let Peter know that I wanted it shorter and &lt;em&gt;voila&lt;/em&gt;, instant success that Evan is happy with. Excuse the goofy look. He wouldn't quit being silly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v1m6RPjYUrI/Tmj7eVC7zDI/AAAAAAAAALE/4S_Um0N9nqo/s1600/After.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" nba="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v1m6RPjYUrI/Tmj7eVC7zDI/AAAAAAAAALE/4S_Um0N9nqo/s320/After.jpg" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-3771106566118994194?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/3771106566118994194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/09/i-think-ive-fallen-off-edge-of-earth.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/3771106566118994194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/3771106566118994194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/09/i-think-ive-fallen-off-edge-of-earth.html' title='I think I&apos;ve fallen off the edge of the earth'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9d-GeTOIIng/TmkBxtTzQLI/AAAAAAAAALI/L3gHIzGq8ok/s72-c/Sips+N+Strokes.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-2797361316444984281</id><published>2011-08-09T10:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-09T10:06:30.453-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Teenage boys...they will be the death of my grocery planning!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;This past weekend Evan had a friend over - one who had never been over before. A sweet kid - Evan has been to his house and we have taken this boy on some adventures - skating, bowling, etc. Anyway, they had been playing video games for a while and came out of the cave for drinks and snacks (oh, how snacks and teenage boys will KILL your grocery budget!). I heard the boys laughing in the kitchen so I went in to see what was so funny. Well, Evan was laughing at his friend because he had never seen ice cube trays before. We don't have an ice maker (we don't have enough water pressure to push the water through the hose - it freezes before it gets to the maker) - we just use trays. It was just unreal to me that he had never seen them before!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I'm ready for school to start back - just a few more days and we can get back into a routine. Since Evan has now quit guitar lessons, we can acutally have a normal Saturday! We can have friends over on Friday night after football games. We can do things on Saturdays that I used to have to get done during the week. We can plan parties for the college (Roll Tide!!!) games!!! I'm already working on my&amp;nbsp;game day&amp;nbsp;menu for Evan and his friends....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-2797361316444984281?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/2797361316444984281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/08/teenage-boysthey-will-be-death-of-my.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/2797361316444984281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/2797361316444984281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/08/teenage-boysthey-will-be-death-of-my.html' title='Teenage boys...they will be the death of my grocery planning!'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-7355522359189963828</id><published>2011-07-12T11:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-12T11:22:01.776-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fourth of July Festivities</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Over the 4th, we took a trip to Fairhope. We all had a great time - as you can tell by this picture of the guys.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XPc4_eECow4/ThxIV98oSNI/AAAAAAAAAKw/4xKpBNBlCLk/s1600/20110711_119.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" m$="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XPc4_eECow4/ThxIV98oSNI/AAAAAAAAAKw/4xKpBNBlCLk/s320/20110711_119.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Little G and Big G&lt;br /&gt;My 'other' son, Evan and Mike&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The next weekend, I got busy. I started work on my Halloween quilt. I've had the materials for ages, but just got started. I want it complete by the first of October. I think I'll make it. All I have to do is put the front, back and batting together and then bind it. Easy, peasy. Next project?? A Grinch Christmas quilt!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-O9WfGHh08mc/ThxInbgwnBI/AAAAAAAAAK0/HRzbNtvB7pg/s1600/20110711_128.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" m$="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-O9WfGHh08mc/ThxInbgwnBI/AAAAAAAAAK0/HRzbNtvB7pg/s320/20110711_128.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Front&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-S96P9XUaLc0/ThxI5m2T6jI/AAAAAAAAAK4/iaNQE1LvCzg/s1600/20110711_129.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" m$="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-S96P9XUaLc0/ThxI5m2T6jI/AAAAAAAAAK4/iaNQE1LvCzg/s320/20110711_129.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Back&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-7355522359189963828?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/7355522359189963828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/07/fourth-of-july-festivities.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/7355522359189963828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/7355522359189963828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/07/fourth-of-july-festivities.html' title='Fourth of July Festivities'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XPc4_eECow4/ThxIV98oSNI/AAAAAAAAAKw/4xKpBNBlCLk/s72-c/20110711_119.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-6908383802761090069</id><published>2011-06-10T10:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-10T10:22:58.896-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dealing with Mental Illness</title><content type='html'>There is a story. It isn't my story to tell on the web. Well, it isn't &lt;em&gt;all&lt;/em&gt; my story. It's my story in the way that it turns my family upside down and inside out. But the details. Well, I'll just skip right over them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But what I've been thinking about lately is the perception of mental illness. It's so easy to blame the person for not being helped. To be angry. Condescending. &amp;nbsp;I mean, if you have the flu, you take care of yourself and get well, right? So, why not mental illness? It's so easy to point the finger at the person and say "If you loved your children, you would accept help. If you loved your husband, you would stop torturing him with your endless obsessions." It's also easy to point at the spouse. "You need to protect your children from your wife." But it isn't that easy when you love that person and think you are helping them by protecting them and covering for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it isn't as simple as accepting help. Because the people with&amp;nbsp;a mental illness do not see the world the same way you and I see it. At all. The way he/she sees it, WE are the crazy ones. What they are doing/thinking/saying is perfectly sane - the them.&amp;nbsp; To them, the sky is green and &lt;em&gt;we&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;must&lt;/em&gt; be crazy for even thinking it is blue. In their minds, they don't need help. And even after help is forced...what do you do when the medications don't work?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you deal with it? How do you watch someone you love go deeper and deeper into a place that you can't go? A place they can't be pulled from? And how do you help their children understand? Cope?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-6908383802761090069?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/6908383802761090069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/06/dealing-with-mental-illness.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/6908383802761090069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/6908383802761090069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/06/dealing-with-mental-illness.html' title='Dealing with Mental Illness'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-7430717298953660982</id><published>2011-05-23T12:23:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-23T12:24:35.712-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Precious Angel</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;This was a wild weekend. Since I only have a boy, I have to borrow my nieces from time to time. One, I only have occasional access to. The other? I can get her any time I want - I wish she was mine. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;But what I love the most is when she requests me!!! This past weekend was La's very first dance recital. Her Aunt Lara and I had planned to go together. Well, La is 4 - and very much the girly girl. Right now, she and my nephew are staying with my parents. Mom has taken over 'dance' duty - taking her to and from class, making sure she has all the stuff she needs.&amp;nbsp; Thursday after dance, she informed my mom that Aunt Lisa would be doing her make up for the recital because she does a better job. Good thing Mom's skin is as thick as mine! So, I called Aunt Lara and we changed our plans. She just met us there and acted as photographer! I was in charge of hair and make up, Mom was in charge of costumes. And now, I will indulge in photos!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;We wrapped her in a blanket to avoid getting make up on her costume... Do you know how hard it is to put mascara on those little blond lashes?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VcMX4wR7u_M/TdqWOn5vvnI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/YYP7v4D2uRk/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="214" j8="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VcMX4wR7u_M/TdqWOn5vvnI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/YYP7v4D2uRk/s320/1.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;And lipstick on those little lips? Especially since she either wanted to pucker or talk. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ji2-jMJaAo0/TdqWPvAgNdI/AAAAAAAAAKU/nJt1mQMY0u4/s1600/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="214" j8="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ji2-jMJaAo0/TdqWPvAgNdI/AAAAAAAAAKU/nJt1mQMY0u4/s320/2.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;Of course, she wanted to give me some color. On my neck.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rbLipY5SZYY/TdqWQYmhRJI/AAAAAAAAAKY/_N19wXbNMng/s1600/3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="214" j8="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rbLipY5SZYY/TdqWQYmhRJI/AAAAAAAAAKY/_N19wXbNMng/s320/3.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;Here we are double teaming her... Yes, that's my Mom. Love, love, love her.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xojJL8P9XR8/TdqWRMrtgzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/wNa76K8f4RQ/s1600/4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="214" j8="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xojJL8P9XR8/TdqWRMrtgzI/AAAAAAAAAKc/wNa76K8f4RQ/s320/4.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;And here she is, ready for the stage!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-j_bcuioetII/TdqWSU7ZVJI/AAAAAAAAAKg/znLRcyTtFLg/s1600/5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="214" j8="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-j_bcuioetII/TdqWSU7ZVJI/AAAAAAAAAKg/znLRcyTtFLg/s320/5.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;And after the first number (theme from Beauty and the Beast) there was a costume change.... This one suits her personality...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HRiKFWilifE/TdqWTYmYK0I/AAAAAAAAAKk/9mSMAU_9Yho/s1600/6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" j8="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HRiKFWilifE/TdqWTYmYK0I/AAAAAAAAAKk/9mSMAU_9Yho/s320/6.jpg" width="214" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;They danced to Fun, Fun, Fun by the Beach Boys. She LOVED that one!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AeLdBpmwCzc/TdqWU69gliI/AAAAAAAAAKo/cr_6VDY0QEc/s1600/7.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" j8="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AeLdBpmwCzc/TdqWU69gliI/AAAAAAAAAKo/cr_6VDY0QEc/s320/7.JPG" width="214" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;After it was over, she got her flowers from Aunt Lara and Aunt Lisa... Papa brought her some gorgeous roses from his garden, my mom had her a little ballerina figurine and her dad had her a teddy bear wearing a tutu. She was exhausted!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xWZdmsP-mgQ/TdqWVyFjNCI/AAAAAAAAAKs/Yd-khXTEodE/s1600/8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" j8="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xWZdmsP-mgQ/TdqWVyFjNCI/AAAAAAAAAKs/Yd-khXTEodE/s320/8.jpg" width="214" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;﻿&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-7430717298953660982?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/7430717298953660982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/05/my-precious-angel.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/7430717298953660982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/7430717298953660982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/05/my-precious-angel.html' title='My Precious Angel'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VcMX4wR7u_M/TdqWOn5vvnI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/YYP7v4D2uRk/s72-c/1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-7473465119083273016</id><published>2011-05-12T10:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-13T15:30:45.810-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Time</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Time is slipping away so fast. Yesterday it really hit me just how fast the past 2 years have flown. So much has been going on, and I've learned so much.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Exactly 2 years ago today, I had a port placed in my chest for chemo treatments. Yesterday I had it removed. It brought home the news that I WILL be ok - after all, if they thought I would need it, they would have left it in. As a matter of fact, I wanted to keep it a while longer - just in case. But my oncologist insisted I have it removed. So, I did. It's a little sore, a little tender. No big deal. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Also,&amp;nbsp;I no longer have a little boy. I have a young man. With body hair. And an attitude. He's 12 - and alrealy taller than I am. He and his dad wear the same size shorts (waist size). His feet are bigger than his dad's. He likes a girl, but he's too shy to talk to her. But he makes sure his hair is done, his teeth are brushed and his clothes look nice before he leaves for school. You know, for her. ACK!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;6th grade was harder than I thought it would be. It started off really rough. Kids can be cruel. Especially to children who are a little different (tall, short, fat, skinny, smart, slow). Anything outside the 'norm' brings the taunts and name calling. Believe me, things like that impact a child's outlook on everything - especially their self-worth. It takes a lot more to build a child back up than it does to tear one down.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Work has been ... busy. Like most companies, we have seen a little downsizing. That translates into everyone doing a little/lot more with less. But, when things are busy, the day doesn't drag by.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Reading. I've read more books over the past 2 years than at any point in my life. Just since last July (when I purchased my Nook) I have purchased and read 60+ ebooks. Plus a few 'real' books have been purchased and read. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I've learned who my friends are - who I can trust - who I can count on (even if I've never met the person in real life). I've also learned that it's ok to cut someone out of your life if they hurt your heart beyond repair.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I've also learned to ask for help. It used to KILL me to&amp;nbsp;ask for help from anyone. It made me feel&amp;nbsp;weak - like I wasn't good enough. But really, when people know you are going through something, they&amp;nbsp;WANT to help.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It does't just help you, it helps them feel a little less helpless.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I've also learned that you don't have to WAIT for someone to ask for help. Just do something. No matter how simple it seems to you (bringing over a pot of spaghetti) it will mean the world to them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;My favorite quote: “Develop interest in life as you see it; in people, things, literature, music – the world is so rich, simply throbbing with rich treasures, beautiful souls and interesting people. Forget yourself.” - Henry Miller&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&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/3096686122256860982-7473465119083273016?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/7473465119083273016/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/05/time.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/7473465119083273016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/7473465119083273016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/05/time.html' title='Time'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-502351709124035776</id><published>2011-05-01T16:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-01T16:53:36.061-05:00</updated><title type='text'>We are all safe and sound....and these are NOT my pictures....And this is somewhat of a downer post</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Well, it has been a long, stressful few days in the South. Particularly Alabama. Everyone I know is safe - some have damaged homes, no power, etc. But they are alive. Not everyone was so lucky. I know of 3 teenage girls who lived, but watched their parents die. Their Grandmother is taking care of them now.&amp;nbsp; ﻿&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;The small town where my Dad grew up has been wiped out. It isn't getting much news play just because they haven't gotten to it yet. Right now they are finding body parts. "Officially" they are listing 3 dead. It's more like 50.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;In a town of only 600, that's a pretty big percentage. All of the buildings in town are gone - every store, every school, every doctor's office. Here is a video of the damage.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://3.gvt0.com/vi/CBnisypTrzM/0.jpg"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/CBnisypTrzM&amp;fs=1&amp;source=uds" /&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /&gt;&lt;embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/CBnisypTrzM&amp;fs=1&amp;source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These pictures are from a friend - she USED to live in the middle of the woods. Not so much anymore.&amp;nbsp; She has trees on her house, but her cars are OK and now that the trees have been cleared to the side of the road, they can get out some. She came over Friday night to do laundry, dishes, shower, etc. They don't have power OR water. But they are all safe.&amp;nbsp;She said that the outpouring of help has just amazed her. Her nephew (who works for the power company in the&amp;nbsp;southern part of the state)&amp;nbsp;came up the day after the storm and started helping get the power lines in order so that when they DO get power back to the area, she will be ready. Several friends came with him with chain saws and supplies. Someone she doesn't even know loaned them a generator - her nephew was hooking that up Friday night. Her daughter was coming home from Texas to help. When she went to pick up her paycheck (she had just been with this company for ONE WEEK) they loaded her truck up with supplies they would need - water, non-perishables, etc. Another nephew works at the local &lt;a href="mailto:W@l-M@rt"&gt;W@l-M@rt&lt;/a&gt;. He went to get some supplies for them and the store wouldn't let him pay for a thing - loaded his truck up. I have a feeling that we will hear more and more stories like this. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-j5ynsVQjdSc/Tb3SCg9UlHI/AAAAAAAAAJs/smKzwvb5gj4/s1600/Tara+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240px" j8="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-j5ynsVQjdSc/Tb3SCg9UlHI/AAAAAAAAAJs/smKzwvb5gj4/s320/Tara+2.jpg" width="320px" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Lqfj60d5KqA/Tb3SEScL4QI/AAAAAAAAAJw/1oitcGDuJ8k/s1600/Tara+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240px" j8="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Lqfj60d5KqA/Tb3SEScL4QI/AAAAAAAAAJw/1oitcGDuJ8k/s320/Tara+3.jpg" width="320px" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GC39UTNAPp0/Tb3SG-RgE6I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/YW9P02w-16s/s1600/Tara+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240px" j8="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GC39UTNAPp0/Tb3SG-RgE6I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/YW9P02w-16s/s320/Tara+4.jpg" width="320px" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iHAbVohlYus/Tb3SJqhLX-I/AAAAAAAAAJ4/tAIyEq1x4Uk/s1600/Tara+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240px" j8="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iHAbVohlYus/Tb3SJqhLX-I/AAAAAAAAAJ4/tAIyEq1x4Uk/s320/Tara+5.jpg" width="320px" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aZaG8Cg4KMw/Tb3SK03OiXI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/H01yvHA1rP0/s1600/Tara+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240px" j8="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aZaG8Cg4KMw/Tb3SK03OiXI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/H01yvHA1rP0/s320/Tara+6.jpg" width="320px" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BRxAdPsS8Iw/Tb3SMPGzH2I/AAAAAAAAAKA/MCUQ0pVpGrg/s1600/Tara+7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240px" j8="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BRxAdPsS8Iw/Tb3SMPGzH2I/AAAAAAAAAKA/MCUQ0pVpGrg/s320/Tara+7.jpg" width="320px" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q9OZHJ3bMuY/Tb3SOQZxMaI/AAAAAAAAAKE/Qlsad0DyZHY/s1600/Tara+8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240px" j8="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q9OZHJ3bMuY/Tb3SOQZxMaI/AAAAAAAAAKE/Qlsad0DyZHY/s320/Tara+8.jpg" width="320px" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-502351709124035776?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/502351709124035776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/05/we-are-all-safe-and-soundand-these-are.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/502351709124035776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/502351709124035776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/05/we-are-all-safe-and-soundand-these-are.html' title='We are all safe and sound....and these are NOT my pictures....And this is somewhat of a downer post'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-j5ynsVQjdSc/Tb3SCg9UlHI/AAAAAAAAAJs/smKzwvb5gj4/s72-c/Tara+2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-712528689593403975</id><published>2011-04-03T21:43:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-03T21:53:50.606-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Quilt'/><title type='text'>Finished!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Just in time for the baby shower on Wednesday...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Front&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5pDRrMLdMgQ/TZkvdxJ3pOI/AAAAAAAAAJg/4h0pHV2w_g4/s1600/DSCN1671.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5pDRrMLdMgQ/TZkvdxJ3pOI/AAAAAAAAAJg/4h0pHV2w_g4/s320/DSCN1671.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;Back&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CBPPv9WMC_A/TZkvuVLqbHI/AAAAAAAAAJk/OFgfPxlVkvg/s320/DSCN1672.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"&gt;It was a very exciting weekend...sewing and fixing a broken waterline. Yeah. All day Sunday with no water. At least Mike was able to fix it - for that I am thankful. Not having to call a plumber is priceless.﻿&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"&gt;Oh, there was one bit of excitement. Or aggravation. Depends on how I want to look at it. Saturday I was taking a quick shower before Mike and I went to get pedicures. Yes, that's what I got Mike for his birthday. Anyway, I came out of the shower to see little blood spots on a throw pillow. So I investigate. I found Wags and he had a little cut on his muzzle. No biggie. Or so I thought. Then I went to the room where I had sorted the laundry. Of course, Wags had gone to the pile of light clothes to rub his cut. On Every. Single. White. Item. Every. Single. Item. All of Mike's work shirts. Evan's school clothes. Socks. It looked like a&amp;nbsp;scene from a slasher movie. So, I took a deep breath, I treated one shirt with my normal name brand stuff and ran out. So, while we were out, I went to Dollar Tree. They have amazing cleaning stuff. There is a stain remover - Laundry Pre-Treat Awesome. When we got home, I treated everything except the one shirt I had already treated. Guess what got clean?? Everything except the shirt I used the name brand stuff on. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-712528689593403975?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/712528689593403975/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/04/finished.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/712528689593403975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/712528689593403975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/04/finished.html' title='Finished!!!'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5pDRrMLdMgQ/TZkvdxJ3pOI/AAAAAAAAAJg/4h0pHV2w_g4/s72-c/DSCN1671.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-5832429563436685797</id><published>2011-03-29T22:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-29T22:34:19.528-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Howdy!</title><content type='html'>It seems like the only thing I've been blogging about lately is sewing. I guess that's mostly because that's what is going on right now. The only drama is drama I can't blog about because it isn't specifically MY drama. Some of it spills over into my life, and I gripe about it and worry about it, but it isn't really my drama to put out there. Evan is doing great - besides&amp;nbsp;(at times)&amp;nbsp;being a hormonal brat. We are down to the last grading period - soon school will be out for summer! That's really all that is going on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I DO have a friend that is pregnant - but she doesn't know this blog exists, so I feel pretty safe putting up pictures of the baby quilt I'm making. Can't put it up on Facebook - she would see it and her shower is next week. So, why am I just now making this blanket??? Well, let's just say that Evan gets his procrastination skills honestly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It starts out as a bunch of squares sewn into pairs....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-m2G0zdauZ9E/TZKhoinZeVI/AAAAAAAAAJM/y8MknXu6tsg/s1600/DSCN1664.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-m2G0zdauZ9E/TZKhoinZeVI/AAAAAAAAAJM/y8MknXu6tsg/s320/DSCN1664.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp;Then you pair up the pairs into 4s...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_cQl8553EK4/TZKh_IdnzmI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/Om9BMvUsMq4/s1600/DSCN1666.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_cQl8553EK4/TZKh_IdnzmI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/Om9BMvUsMq4/s320/DSCN1666.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp;Then I have to find some semblance of order. See...it's supposed to be randomly assembled. I can't do that. I just can't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NQvLRc97fig/TZKi_K848YI/AAAAAAAAAJY/TVmy7Fge92s/s1600/DSCN1668.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NQvLRc97fig/TZKi_K848YI/AAAAAAAAAJY/TVmy7Fge92s/s320/DSCN1668.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp;And pinning part of the inner border is as far as I got tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BNpC-mn-J0I/TZKjluDBXWI/AAAAAAAAAJc/CWoKzpNsU4o/s1600/DSCN1669.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BNpC-mn-J0I/TZKjluDBXWI/AAAAAAAAAJc/CWoKzpNsU4o/s320/DSCN1669.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Tomorrow I add more squares to the outside, then I start quilting!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-5832429563436685797?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/5832429563436685797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/03/howdy.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/5832429563436685797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/5832429563436685797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/03/howdy.html' title='Howdy!'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-m2G0zdauZ9E/TZKhoinZeVI/AAAAAAAAAJM/y8MknXu6tsg/s72-c/DSCN1664.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-1356615724779473927</id><published>2011-03-26T11:36:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-28T08:45:47.752-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A new dress for my niece...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Just need to get some better ribbon and hem it! Tutorial &lt;a href="http://www.modabakeshop.com/2011/03/fat-quarter-pillowcase-dress.html"&gt;found here&lt;/a&gt;!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-Z1genEZ0lhY/TY4V6J_SR2I/AAAAAAAAAJA/z_rxjJcf-Qg/s1600/068.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" r6="true" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-Z1genEZ0lhY/TY4V6J_SR2I/AAAAAAAAAJA/z_rxjJcf-Qg/s320/068.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-1356615724779473927?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/1356615724779473927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/03/new-dress-for-my-niece.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/1356615724779473927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/1356615724779473927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/03/new-dress-for-my-niece.html' title='A new dress for my niece...'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-Z1genEZ0lhY/TY4V6J_SR2I/AAAAAAAAAJA/z_rxjJcf-Qg/s72-c/068.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-3386342228005726316</id><published>2011-03-25T10:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-25T10:13:09.536-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Preview</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Not the best picture, but I was using my cell phone...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-v26iY_kXFJY/TYyw4XFn71I/AAAAAAAAAI8/CcJXltJV4ak/s1600/Photo0114.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-v26iY_kXFJY/TYyw4XFn71I/AAAAAAAAAI8/CcJXltJV4ak/s320/Photo0114.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-3386342228005726316?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/3386342228005726316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/03/preview.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/3386342228005726316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/3386342228005726316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/03/preview.html' title='Preview'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-v26iY_kXFJY/TYyw4XFn71I/AAAAAAAAAI8/CcJXltJV4ak/s72-c/Photo0114.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-1949888000178986313</id><published>2011-03-22T22:06:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-23T08:45:15.457-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Busy, busy, busy</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"&gt;I've been trying to stay busy lately - it hasn't been that hard. Last weekend we started spring cleaning (gross) and rearranging furniture. I actually reclaimed the bedroom that turned into a craft room that turned into a junk room. It is now back to being a bedroom - with a sewing table. I made a niece a toy bag - it's pretty cool. When you let the draw string out, it flattens out into a circle - a play mat. When you are done, throw all the toys on the mat, pull the string, and the toys are put away. Pretty neat! &lt;strike&gt;I tried to find the link to the tutorial I used, but I can't. If I find it later, I'll update this post.&lt;/strike&gt; &lt;a href="http://tonicoward.blogspot.com/2010/09/lego-sack-tutorial.html"&gt;Here is the link to the tutorial!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"&gt;I also have plans to make a pillowcase dress for her! Hope she likes it! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-W2GM5l99nw4/TYljJCM6_nI/AAAAAAAAAI4/q2o2mvtDThI/s1600/DSCN1661.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-W2GM5l99nw4/TYljJCM6_nI/AAAAAAAAAI4/q2o2mvtDThI/s320/DSCN1661.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-LIP_-eM6eGo/TYli1T4YVzI/AAAAAAAAAI0/1vqOzGLo1zQ/s1600/DSCN1660.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-LIP_-eM6eGo/TYli1T4YVzI/AAAAAAAAAI0/1vqOzGLo1zQ/s320/DSCN1660.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-1949888000178986313?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/1949888000178986313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/03/busy-busy-busy.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/1949888000178986313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/1949888000178986313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/03/busy-busy-busy.html' title='Busy, busy, busy'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-W2GM5l99nw4/TYljJCM6_nI/AAAAAAAAAI4/q2o2mvtDThI/s72-c/DSCN1661.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-3135739376325852411</id><published>2011-03-10T11:06:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-10T11:06:54.991-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Mardi Gras...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Had to get into the spirit. And by the focus on this pic...I had been into the spirits.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-BKCMCwYx1pI/TXkEmjgLgLI/AAAAAAAAAIo/TkEjEFGjKL8/s1600/Photo0103.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" q6="true" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-BKCMCwYx1pI/TXkEmjgLgLI/AAAAAAAAAIo/TkEjEFGjKL8/s320/Photo0103.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;E liked the crazy glasses..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-Y5i42GZnNr4/TXkEriImz-I/AAAAAAAAAIs/0UUbDrez5wE/s1600/Photo0104.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" q6="true" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-Y5i42GZnNr4/TXkEriImz-I/AAAAAAAAAIs/0UUbDrez5wE/s320/Photo0104.jpg" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;SWAG. Need some beads? This doesn't even include what Mike caught.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-62iEYORPq4c/TXkEuOPEhqI/AAAAAAAAAIw/bq9NViSQmzs/s1600/Photo0108.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" q6="true" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-62iEYORPq4c/TXkEuOPEhqI/AAAAAAAAAIw/bq9NViSQmzs/s320/Photo0108.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;More to come later....﻿&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-3135739376325852411?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/3135739376325852411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/03/mardi-gras.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/3135739376325852411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/3135739376325852411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/03/mardi-gras.html' title='Mardi Gras...'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-BKCMCwYx1pI/TXkEmjgLgLI/AAAAAAAAAIo/TkEjEFGjKL8/s72-c/Photo0103.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-4551423717837937301</id><published>2011-02-16T06:30:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-16T06:30:00.556-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Kidney Stones...</title><content type='html'>are a bitch.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-4551423717837937301?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/4551423717837937301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/02/kidney-stones.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/4551423717837937301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/4551423717837937301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/02/kidney-stones.html' title='Kidney Stones...'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-840855228306274879</id><published>2011-02-13T14:53:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-13T14:53:55.145-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Here is what I've been up to...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"&gt;Well, I think I promised an update on my quilting. This is just the quilt top. I'll start the real quilting part next week. It's small - 42x42 - baby blanket size. I'm pretty happy with the way it has turned out so far. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GNHimpukSnE/TVhD0k5CsEI/AAAAAAAAAIk/SilAWrng2yc/s1600/DSCN1509.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GNHimpukSnE/TVhD0k5CsEI/AAAAAAAAAIk/SilAWrng2yc/s320/DSCN1509.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Oh, and I don't know if you can tell or not...but I took this picture in the playroom. That I accidentally painted lavendar. It's growing on me. My next project will probably be a quilt to go over the futon in this room. I seriously doubt I'll be finding anything to really go with those walls.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-840855228306274879?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/840855228306274879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/02/here-is-what-ive-been-up-to.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/840855228306274879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/840855228306274879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/02/here-is-what-ive-been-up-to.html' title='Here is what I&apos;ve been up to...'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GNHimpukSnE/TVhD0k5CsEI/AAAAAAAAAIk/SilAWrng2yc/s72-c/DSCN1509.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-1257656740048169566</id><published>2011-02-02T09:29:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-02T09:29:09.453-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Step 2: Learn how to cut</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Well, you would think that since I can already sew, I would know how to cut material. Apparently not. See, the new thing is rotary cutters. Not scissors. So we had a lesson on that. And sewing a straight line. But I did get 8 squares made...only 17 more to do for homework. I'll put pictures up this weekend after I do my homework.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;It's interesting, but I wish I was the only person in the class. There are now 2 others in there. One lady is fine. As a matter of fact, she and I discovered we work for the same company. We have seen each other in the hallway, but never actually met. The other lady. Well. It's the lady from the first class. She could do nothing right. She came in late and still had to set up her materials.&amp;nbsp;She couldn't get her machine to sew a straight line. She cut her finger on the rotary cutter (it's like a round razor blade). When the other lady and I were packing up, she was still trying to cut her material. The shop closes at 8... the teacher had her coat on and her purse on her arm. This lady paid no attention to any of that. I have no idea what time they left. Maybe next week will be a little smoother. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Oh, and Mike really helped out last night. He picked Evan up from after-school care, fixed dinner, swept the floors, vacuumed the rugs, cleaned the bathroom floors and changed the litter box. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-1257656740048169566?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/1257656740048169566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/02/step-2-learn-how-to-cut.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/1257656740048169566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/1257656740048169566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/02/step-2-learn-how-to-cut.html' title='Step 2: Learn how to cut'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-6055461363920612674</id><published>2011-01-20T08:52:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-20T08:52:42.942-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Step One - Spend lots of money</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"&gt;The first night of class the point was clear: we want your money, and lots of it. I bought my tools and my materials. I can't describe how this thing is going to be put together except the big piece is the back and frame&amp;nbsp;and the 3 stacks will be used to make blocks - green-ish, purple-ish and pink-ish.﻿ This week the homework is to wash the material and then iron it. The next class will be 2/1 and I think we will be cutting? Maybe some sewing?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TTg30meGL0I/AAAAAAAAAIc/BMj-MLntJA8/s1600/DSCN1471.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" s5="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TTg30meGL0I/AAAAAAAAAIc/BMj-MLntJA8/s320/DSCN1471.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;And if I get lucky, I may be the only person in the class. There was one other lady this week, but she was only there because she couldn't make it to the day class. I hope to heaven she doesn't decide to come at night. She drove me AND the teacher crazy, though the teacher tried to keep it from showing. ﻿But if she does come at night, I will be nice. For a while.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-6055461363920612674?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/6055461363920612674/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/01/step-one-spend-lots-of-money.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/6055461363920612674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/6055461363920612674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/01/step-one-spend-lots-of-money.html' title='Step One - Spend lots of money'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TTg30meGL0I/AAAAAAAAAIc/BMj-MLntJA8/s72-c/DSCN1471.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-5544270567368625477</id><published>2011-01-19T11:08:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-19T11:08:05.365-06:00</updated><title type='text'>How old am I?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Lately I've been having a bit of fun. Going to concerts, meeting the band. Keeping one niece as much as possible (she is a 4 yr old bundle of energy!). These activities would suggest that I'm young. That I have energy. That I am not yet ancient. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;But. I have decided that I need a new hobby. I have quit scrapbooking and will be selling all my supplies on Ebay. I crochet, but that takes a while to complete anything large.&amp;nbsp;I have decided that I am going to learn to quilt. It's something both of my grandmothers did. The both had me cutting and hand-piecing quilt tops when I was 7or 8. And when I say hand-piecing...that means sewing a billion squares, rectangles and octagons together BY HAND. With a needle and thread. But I never learned the actual quilting part. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I have signed up for a beginner quilting class. The first class was last night. I got all my tools and my material. I am ready to go home tonight and get my material prepped for the first 'real' class. I think I'll even post pictures of my progress... I'll tell you one thing right off the bat - this will not be done by hand. I have a machine and I WILL be using it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;But this hobby makes me feel old. Like I should be wearing a shawl and slippers. And reading&amp;nbsp;glasses&amp;nbsp;hooked to a gold chain around my neck so I don't lose them. &amp;nbsp;I guess it's because the only women I know who do this are old. But I honestly want it to be an art form that isn't lost in our family. I don't have a daughter, but I can teach my nieces if they want to learn. Or I could teach Evan. He did learn how to sew rectangles together this past Christmas (we made heat packs for the women in the family). But that will be up to him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I guess age is just a number - but I think I'll stop telling my number pretty soon.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&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/3096686122256860982-5544270567368625477?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/5544270567368625477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/01/how-old-am-i.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/5544270567368625477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/5544270567368625477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2011/01/how-old-am-i.html' title='How old am I?'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-8635946518673674816</id><published>2010-12-28T12:02:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-12-28T12:02:08.616-06:00</updated><title type='text'>So. I get to enjoy other people's luck.</title><content type='html'>My sister-in-law is the luckiest person on earth. If her name goes in a drawing she wins. Always. Yesterday was no exception. A few weeks ago...maybe months now... I posted that she and I were going to see 100 Monkeys. See, one of the guys in the band is in the Twilight movies. So we checked out their music and we LOVED it. So, they came to Birmingham. It was freakin awesome. Ooops - back to the topic of her luck. She kept checking the band's web site. They had a promotion - register at a certain hotel and be entered in a drawing for a meet &amp;amp; greet. Of course, SHE WON!!!!! Here is a pic of all of us with the band. She won 2 passes, but they let us take our other friend with us, she just didn't get the 'back stage pass'. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TRojFMuffWI/AAAAAAAAAIY/YDXyNuuT3Zc/s1600/20101228_97+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="224" n4="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TRojFMuffWI/AAAAAAAAAIY/YDXyNuuT3Zc/s320/20101228_97+%25282%2529.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;They were SO nice. Walked in, they all introduced themselves and shook everybody's hand. The tickets were a little different from normal concert tix - it was a pdf that you could print out. It has your name on it. So we printed out 2 copies of each ticket and got autographs on the one we didn't have to turn in. Again, awesome. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;But here is where the band got me. There were several groups that won meet &amp;amp; greets - one was a mom and her 12 yr old daughter. It was the daughter's first concert. What a way to start your concert-going life! She stood in the front right by the stage while her mom sat in the seated area&amp;nbsp;(it was a really small venue, so mom was not being irresponsible - she was close enough!)&amp;nbsp;So one of the songs they did for an encore was "Thank you", Jackson (guy in the red pants and hat) was singing the song. He was basically naming all the things he is thankful for. Anyway he said "And if this is your very first concert, THANK YOU!" and leaned down and blew her a kiss. Don't you know her little 12 yr old heart just exploded! All the band members had been leaning down and waving to her all night.&amp;nbsp; It was so sweet!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Another memorable night!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-8635946518673674816?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/8635946518673674816/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/12/so-i-get-to-enjoy-other-peoples-luck.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/8635946518673674816'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/8635946518673674816'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/12/so-i-get-to-enjoy-other-peoples-luck.html' title='So. I get to enjoy other people&apos;s luck.'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TRojFMuffWI/AAAAAAAAAIY/YDXyNuuT3Zc/s72-c/20101228_97+%25282%2529.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-9065779454709709485</id><published>2010-12-15T22:05:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-12-15T22:05:20.843-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Evan Playing Guitar</title><content type='html'>&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/vIeLLvygY-k?hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/vIeLLvygY-k?hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few second in and the sound system kicks in and you can hear a little better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-9065779454709709485?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/9065779454709709485/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/12/evan-playing-guitar.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/9065779454709709485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/9065779454709709485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/12/evan-playing-guitar.html' title='Evan Playing Guitar'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-849027806755989126</id><published>2010-12-08T14:48:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-12-08T14:48:38.841-06:00</updated><title type='text'>It's that time of year, again!</title><content type='html'>I love Christmas. I love the decorations. I love buying presents. I love getting together with family and letting the kids play. I love all that stuff. The one thing I don't love? The fact that my calendar fills up so fast and my energy is down the tubes because I'm not sleeping!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sample schedule: This week, the only night I will have at home with no running around will be tonight. That's it. And if Evan doesn't finish his homework before I pick him up...well, I won't have time to get anything done tonight.&amp;nbsp;Monday night Evan had a project to complete - and part of the project included ME making a cake and cupcakes. Tuesday was the band concert - beginning band. Yes, it was bad. Tonight? Free. Thursday, basketball practice - 7:30 to 9:00. Friday, I can't remember, but I'm sure there is something. Saturday, 2 basketball games and the Christmas Parade. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that activity part of being a parent. It wears me out, but it's worth it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Family gatherings. I love them. Except for the drama. My sister is trying to plan our family's event at her house&amp;nbsp;on Christmas Eve. That's all well and good for me. But my brother has issues because they have small kids and have to get home in time to do Santa and their Christmas Eve traditions. We can't do it earlier in the day&amp;nbsp;because my husband has to work. So, how are we going to compromise? Sister already feels like Brother doesn't love her, so if they just don't come then Sister will wind up in tears. Then we have to deal with Hubby's side of the family. This year we are doing it at our house on the 23rd. I don't work that day, so I can get the house ready and cook dinner. And now hubby's sister-in-law informs me that she's bringing her brother. Truthfully, I would rather have him there than her. But, does that also mean she is bringing her dad? So he won't be alone? Because, if that's the case, I may get "sick" and not be able to have it at our house. I can put up with a lot, but he is an ass. I will not allow him to act in MY home the way he does in hers (goes through everything - drawers, cabinets, mail - complains). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I love seeing Evan's face when he opens his presents. I LOVE taking pictures of everybody. I love watching my cat go crazy with the paper and bows. &amp;nbsp;I love cooking breakfast Christmas morning. Which reminds me...anybody have any good brunch type recipes?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-849027806755989126?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/849027806755989126/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/12/its-that-time-of-year-again.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/849027806755989126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/849027806755989126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/12/its-that-time-of-year-again.html' title='It&apos;s that time of year, again!'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-4221957789945207402</id><published>2010-12-01T12:22:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-12-01T12:22:48.183-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Fun for the holidays!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;This is NOT a paid ad. This is just my opinion on something that everybody else probably already knows about!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;I have a new favorite website I want to share with EVERYBODY. It's awesome wrapped in fun! Anyone that knows me, knows that I love pictures. But I've never had a really EASY way to edit photos - until now. The website is www.picnik.com. It is so much fun! Here is a sample of what you can do:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TPaKAF2xTYI/AAAAAAAAAIM/L_AIoFUM9aI/s1600/Before+and+after.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="106" ox="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TPaKAF2xTYI/AAAAAAAAAIM/L_AIoFUM9aI/s320/Before+and+after.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;I took a simple picture, added a santa hat, snow, Rudolph nose, and some clippy-art kind of things. Then I went back and made some of the picture in color. This is just a tiny sample. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;All you have to do is sign up for an account. There is a TON of free stuff on the site, but some stuff you have to have a 'premium' account for. But it's all labled so there is no confusion. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can edit as much or as little as you want, save the picture to your computer and print in your usual way - &amp;nbsp;From your printer, or load to what every website you use - Walmart, Target, Shutterfly, Snapfish... whatever. You can add the pictures to the 'photobooks' or print them individually. I took one picture, added a 'tag', edited it a bit and had them printed - I'm using them for gift tags on presents.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TPaSN0bRlkI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/bpwjO6hPU68/s1600/Gift+tags.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="212" ox="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TPaSN0bRlkI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/bpwjO6hPU68/s320/Gift+tags.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; Enjoy!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&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/3096686122256860982-4221957789945207402?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/4221957789945207402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/12/fun-for-holidays.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/4221957789945207402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/4221957789945207402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/12/fun-for-holidays.html' title='Fun for the holidays!'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TPaKAF2xTYI/AAAAAAAAAIM/L_AIoFUM9aI/s72-c/Before+and+after.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-7223384894789407747</id><published>2010-11-08T11:52:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-08T11:55:24.691-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Evan and Wags. Or the escape artist.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TNg47mB7h8I/AAAAAAAAAIE/Esm8ussncus/s1600/E%26W_1890_email.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537238338324105154" style="WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TNg47mB7h8I/AAAAAAAAAIE/Esm8ussncus/s320/E%26W_1890_email.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TNg4675mMvI/AAAAAAAAAH0/khgHaFFJsvw/s1600/E%26W_1793_email.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537238327014863602" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TNg4675mMvI/AAAAAAAAAH0/khgHaFFJsvw/s320/E%26W_1793_email.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TNg46nYzOTI/AAAAAAAAAHs/_0coUx8xC7A/s1600/E%26W_1782_email.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537238321508596018" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TNg46nYzOTI/AAAAAAAAAHs/_0coUx8xC7A/s320/E%26W_1782_email.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why, yes, I do let my son wear flip flops for pictures. Yes, I was aware they would be seen. But this is him. Flip flops and all. I would rather he be wearing what he wants to wear. And yes, I'm practicing answering these questions because I know they will be coming. From my mom AND mi MIL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-7223384894789407747?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/7223384894789407747/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/11/evan-and-wags-or-escape-artist.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/7223384894789407747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/7223384894789407747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/11/evan-and-wags-or-escape-artist.html' title='Evan and Wags. Or the escape artist.'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TNg47mB7h8I/AAAAAAAAAIE/Esm8ussncus/s72-c/E%26W_1890_email.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-6070091540750050463</id><published>2010-10-27T14:16:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-27T14:17:52.252-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The reasons I do what I do...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TMh6sbnD-WI/AAAAAAAAAHk/hFgNPelbc6A/s1600/us.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532807045969082722" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 233px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TMh6sbnD-WI/AAAAAAAAAHk/hFgNPelbc6A/s320/us.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TMh6sNaKRMI/AAAAAAAAAHc/EbLApjefINw/s1600/fam.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532807042156872898" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 233px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TMh6sNaKRMI/AAAAAAAAAHc/EbLApjefINw/s320/fam.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TMh6r3x0MmI/AAAAAAAAAHU/vvHXbRNAQhQ/s1600/fam+e+and+L.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532807036350509666" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 233px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TMh6r3x0MmI/AAAAAAAAAHU/vvHXbRNAQhQ/s320/fam+e+and+L.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TMh6rAkoaSI/AAAAAAAAAHM/joiROsEjiLE/s1600/E.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532807021531261218" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 233px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TMh6rAkoaSI/AAAAAAAAAHM/joiROsEjiLE/s320/E.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-6070091540750050463?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/6070091540750050463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/10/reasons-i-do-what-i-do.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/6070091540750050463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/6070091540750050463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/10/reasons-i-do-what-i-do.html' title='The reasons I do what I do...'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TMh6sbnD-WI/AAAAAAAAAHk/hFgNPelbc6A/s72-c/us.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-2214168671750981480</id><published>2010-10-19T08:24:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-19T08:35:53.377-05:00</updated><title type='text'>How much is that puppy in the window?</title><content type='html'>Well, the costs of Evan's 'free' dog are adding up fast.  The weekend we got him we also got a 10x10 kennel to keep him in while we are at work/school. Not cheap. I even got the 'roof' option so that he would have plenty of shade and protection from the rain. It has a Dogloo in it. He has food and water. It is partially floored (12x12 blocks) so that he doesn't have to be in the mud. He is only in there until 3:00. As soon as Evan gets home, he lets him out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this dog is determined to escape. I think I've talked about that before. He learned how to open the gate. When we chained the door in the middle, he put pressure on the bottom of the door until he could fit through. So we added a second chain at the bottom. Then he put his nose through the chain link and wiggled it back and forth until he could fit his head through. So we covered that hole with smaller wire he couldn't get a hold in. Then he moved to another pannel and worked it until he bent the clips holding the chain link to the poles enough that he could get through. We fixed that. Well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I had to leave work at 10 AM to go to the SCHOOL to pick up the dog. We live right behind the school. A few weeks ago when I was out of town, Mike took him out to do his business and he ran away to look for Evan because Evan hadn't spent any time at home. They found him at the school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, yesterday the damn dog broke out and went to school looking for Evan again. A kid in Evan's class heard something outside and looked. Wags was jumping up and looking in windows. The teacher was kind enough to let Evan get the dog and bring him into her classroom until I could come home to get him. Of course, the phone call I got was 'Please come get your dog, he is in Evan's class' with no explanation of how he got there...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-2214168671750981480?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/2214168671750981480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/10/how-much-is-that-puppy-in-window.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/2214168671750981480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/2214168671750981480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/10/how-much-is-that-puppy-in-window.html' title='How much is that puppy in the window?'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-831493571664198201</id><published>2010-10-12T13:19:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-12T13:27:01.172-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Excitement!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TLSoTWspD7I/AAAAAAAAAGg/HUMCtygChGY/s1600/100monkeys_band-1002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527227693154242482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TLSoTWspD7I/AAAAAAAAAGg/HUMCtygChGY/s320/100monkeys_band-1002.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I got a call from my sister-in-law today...the one that just recently read all the Twilight books an was immediately in love. She could barely contain herself... She and I had discussed going to Atlanta to see 100 Monkeys. Because "Jasper" is in the band. But it's the day after Christmas and we really didn't want to do that. BUT. The band has added a stop in Birmingham!!! We are going 12/27! Already got the tix. If anyone in the B'ham area would like to meet us there for a girl's night out, I'm sure it will be a blast! Tix are only $18.53 (tax included). They are playing @ Workplay. I have never been there, but heard good things. If you decide to go, send me a note so I will be looking for you!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;100 Monkeys &lt;a href="http://www.100monkeysmusic.com/"&gt;Official Site&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-831493571664198201?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/831493571664198201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/10/excitement.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/831493571664198201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/831493571664198201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/10/excitement.html' title='Excitement!'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TLSoTWspD7I/AAAAAAAAAGg/HUMCtygChGY/s72-c/100monkeys_band-1002.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-2092174503811283195</id><published>2010-09-26T22:37:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-26T22:53:04.031-05:00</updated><title type='text'>So. My Fabulous weekend with Mom!</title><content type='html'>First - an update on the dresses. Well. They did arrive. In time for me to try them on and see that they looked like shit. So. I bought a skirt a few weeks ago... and I found a shirt that did just fine. All worked out ok...I'm returning the 2 dresses. And returning the shawl and clutch that I ordered to go with the dresses that DID NOT arrive on time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, let me say that traveling with my mom is a blast. She is always up for a road trip. She packed a cooler of drinks (non-alcoholic, of course), snacks, etc, because the place we were going was so far out in the country, she was afraid that the Wal-Mart would close at 9 and we wouldn't be able to find anywhere to get snacks. There were 2 hotels in this 'town'. The closest we could get to the actual site of the wedding was 30 minutes away. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We drove down Friday afternoon, checked in, drove 30 minutes back the way we came to find a decent restaurant. Then we went back to the hotel and relaxed all night and the next morning. She stayed in the room, I went to the pool. Which was empty, except for me. Score!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went to the wedding. It's so far out in the country that mapquest &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;and&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Mom's GPS let us down. It's a good thing we left the hotel early and remembered to bring the map that was included in the invitation. Always remember the homemade map. It won't direct you to the middle of nowhere and tell you that the barn you are looking at is the church!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wedding was very simple. These kids are 27. They have been together since they were 16. It was sweet. He cried. She cried. His brother cried. Everyone cried when she lit the candle in honor of her sister that died 3 years ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The reception was at her grandparent's farm. Again, very simple. Tables outside, tents with food and drinks and dancing. Lights and paper lanterns, candles in jars hanging from trees. We saw people that we haven't seen in years. People that we dearly loved. People that I still dearly love, even if I can't see them often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all, a fabulous trip.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-2092174503811283195?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/2092174503811283195/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/09/so-my-fabulous-weekend-with-mom.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/2092174503811283195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/2092174503811283195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/09/so-my-fabulous-weekend-with-mom.html' title='So. My Fabulous weekend with Mom!'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-3250064839573258343</id><published>2010-09-22T11:50:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-22T11:59:47.241-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Aggravation...</title><content type='html'>I am going to a wedding this weekend. It's in Mississippi and Mom and I are making it a girl's weekend. We are leaving Friday around noon and won't be back until Sunday. It will be awesome!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has been YEARS since I've worn a dress. It isn't required for work or church. So, I don't have any in my closet. A few weeks ago I started looking. I found a shirt/skirt combo that would do in a pinch - they are both black, so to me it doesn't really say 'wedding'. But I also found 2 dresses online that I ordered. But I don't know how they look, since I haven't tried them on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I order things online a lot. I track the packages religiously. Well, as soon as the dresses were shipped, I started tracking. They were shipped via UPS. I was home all day yesterday (Evan was sick). I tracked. Got the glorious status: Out for delivery!!!!! I waited. And I waited. Around 7PM I checked the status. Delivered to the Post Office. Are you kidding me??? I was home all freaking day. Never a knock on the door. So now, I have to wait and see if the Post Office delivers it today. I just hope they decide to leave it...and not wait for a signature. Because I won't be there today. And then I'll have to make a special trip to the Post Office - and it closes at 5. So, not convenient in any way. And the departure time draws closer and closer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But here is what bothers me... It was to be delivered by UPS, but they leave it for the USPS to do??? When did that crap start?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Arrrghhh!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-3250064839573258343?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/3250064839573258343/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/09/aggravation.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/3250064839573258343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/3250064839573258343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/09/aggravation.html' title='Aggravation...'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-3388198699587408050</id><published>2010-09-09T16:11:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-09T16:21:53.319-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Back!</title><content type='html'>Well, I've been out of the loop a while. The past two weeks I've been at home. It was awesome! But I didn't really feel like getting on the computer much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About a month ago, my sister-in-law and I got together to have the kids' pics made. I was introduced to an AWESOME photographer that I now adore - this was our first photoshoot with her, but it will not be our last. We do this every 2 years as a present for our Mother-in-law, but I usually take the pictures. There is NOTHING she loves more than her grandkids and pictures of them are always the best present. Here are a couple of pictures from the day:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TIlPxlf5NAI/AAAAAAAAAGY/nXEwuPlWsYU/s1600/e2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515026931989951490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 233px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TIlPxlf5NAI/AAAAAAAAAGY/nXEwuPlWsYU/s320/e2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TIlOD4F_7fI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/d8z6SobrdIU/s1600/e3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515025047196003826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 233px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TIlOD4F_7fI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/d8z6SobrdIU/s320/e3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TIlODeZvzHI/AAAAAAAAAGA/3yJmGebZRUI/s1600/e1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515025040299510898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 233px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TIlODeZvzHI/AAAAAAAAAGA/3yJmGebZRUI/s320/e1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next 2 photos show a pose we do every time - shows how much they have grown. The first one is the latest, the second one is the first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TIlN3pHJhiI/AAAAAAAAAF4/t6spSqtJqTM/s1600/e4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515024837015864866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 233px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TIlN3pHJhiI/AAAAAAAAAF4/t6spSqtJqTM/s320/e4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Evan - 11, Anna - 8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TIlNmoR4DxI/AAAAAAAAAFo/ElAlLzIdUNs/s1600/PICT1292-+revised2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515024544734646034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 242px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TIlNmoR4DxI/AAAAAAAAAFo/ElAlLzIdUNs/s320/PICT1292-+revised2.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Evan - 5; Anna - 2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-3388198699587408050?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/3388198699587408050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/09/im-back.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/3388198699587408050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/3388198699587408050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/09/im-back.html' title='I&apos;m Back!'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TIlPxlf5NAI/AAAAAAAAAGY/nXEwuPlWsYU/s72-c/e2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-6992522741979497497</id><published>2010-08-22T18:19:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-22T18:28:48.310-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I have never been so scared in my life</title><content type='html'>Thursday was stressful. Preparing for surgery Friday, my nerves were already on edge. But poor planning on my part created the scariest 2 hours of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thursday started off normal enough. Got up, went through the normal routine. But right before I dropped Evan off at school I realized I had left my cell phone at home and so had he. With the morning school traffic, there was NO WAY I was going back to the house to get it. We laughed about it. I told him to call my work number when he got home. Since he walks home every day, he is supposed to call me the minute he walks through the door. Well, 3:05 rolled around. No call. So I started calling the house. Nothing. No answer. By 3:30 I was in a complete panic. I work about 45 minutes away, so I called my parents to go check out my house. They did. The front door was unlocked. The dog was still in his kennell. No backpack to be seen. They started driving around the neighborhood. No one had seen him. I didn't call Mike - I knew this would all be resolved and he would have left work for nothing. By 4:00, I couldn't stay at work anymore. I flew home. It took 30 minutes - but I was home by 4:30. I grabbed my cell phone and checked messages. There was one - from my sister-in-law. Then I saw the texts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had one from Mike to call Evan at a number I didn't recognize. He had gone home with a friend. But Mike didn't know I had left my cell phone at home... Evan had gotten permission, but the info never got to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he got home I hugged and kissed him like never before. I think my blood pressure is still a little higher than it should be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next time I forget my phone, I don't care if I'm half way to work. I will go back and get it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-6992522741979497497?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/6992522741979497497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/08/i-have-never-been-so-scared-in-my-life.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/6992522741979497497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/6992522741979497497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/08/i-have-never-been-so-scared-in-my-life.html' title='I have never been so scared in my life'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-8901464338621568547</id><published>2010-08-17T15:37:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-17T15:56:10.861-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I know what is best for me</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The past year and a half I've had to make a lot of decisions. Mostly with input from my doctors. My mom has had breast cancer, and so has one of my dearest friends. Both had a different kind of treatment than I did. But when I have questions that they can relate to, I go to them. Don't get me wrong - I don't mind talking to people about what it has been like and the choices I have made. I don't mind people saying "If I was in that situation, I think I would x, y, z."  But. When I want an opinion, I will NOT be asking a person who has not been through this. And if I'm not asking you, that probably means I don't want your opinion. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Here's the latest example. Friday I will have my tissue expanders removed and REAL, NORMAL, BREAST-SHAPED implants put in. So my latest decision is saline? or silicone? I researched it. I thought about it. I asked my friend that has saline. We discussed. I decided on silicone. Why? Well, since I've had a mastectomy, I have no breast tissue to cover the implant. So if I go saline, it will literally be like having 2 bags of water on my chest. How do I know? My friend and I discussed. Silicone will be more "natural" looking/feeling. At this point, looks and feeling mean a lot. And I understand the risks of leaking. I do. But silicone implants have come a LONG way from the 70's and 80's where they were a real danger. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;But back to the point. Again, I don't mind talking about all this stuff. Hell, I don't mind showing what they look like now if anyone is curious. But when I started letting people know that I was having surgery on Friday, the questions started. "What are you going with?" And when I give the answer....holy cow. People feel free to start giving opinions and trying to scare me to death about the choices I've made. The only thing I can compare it to is when you are pregnant and strangers feel free to give advice. And I'm starting to feel like a woman that is 11 months pregant and pissed off! And soon, very soon, I'm going to stop being polite.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-8901464338621568547?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/8901464338621568547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/08/i-know-what-is-best-for-me.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/8901464338621568547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/8901464338621568547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/08/i-know-what-is-best-for-me.html' title='I know what is best for me'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-5822953167299684156</id><published>2010-08-12T12:03:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-12T12:30:14.663-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The guts of destruction</title><content type='html'>What did I do after packing Evan off for his first day 6th grade? And also, his second day?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TGQtugQaLII/AAAAAAAAAFY/nD7LcIJ2uLI/s1600/20100812_24.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504574921509579906" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TGQtugQaLII/AAAAAAAAAFY/nD7LcIJ2uLI/s320/20100812_24.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;BEFORE&lt;strong&gt;:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TGQtShA3GuI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/6iSHWpwH60g/s1600/20100812_33.JPG"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504574440676465378" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TGQtShA3GuI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/6iSHWpwH60g/s320/20100812_33.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TGQtSWJ6VcI/AAAAAAAAAFI/rN43enHSCTY/s1600/20100812_32.JPG"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504574437761635778" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TGQtSWJ6VcI/AAAAAAAAAFI/rN43enHSCTY/s320/20100812_32.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TGQtSGIykQI/AAAAAAAAAFA/mFCNmToWVfg/s1600/20100812_31.JPG"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504574433461965058" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TGQtSGIykQI/AAAAAAAAAFA/mFCNmToWVfg/s320/20100812_31.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TGQtRuFQCoI/AAAAAAAAAE4/7cwqxQePvao/s1600/20100812_30.JPG"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504574427004668546" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TGQtRuFQCoI/AAAAAAAAAE4/7cwqxQePvao/s320/20100812_30.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This is the crap I pulled out before I remembered "before" pics.&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TGQtReuEIBI/AAAAAAAAAEw/ZbneTU7H390/s1600/20100812_29.JPG"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504574422880886802" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TGQtReuEIBI/AAAAAAAAAEw/ZbneTU7H390/s320/20100812_29.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;AFTER:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TGQrX-qbGbI/AAAAAAAAAEo/HZQIcjOrLXY/s1600/20100812_42.JPG"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504572335511509426" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TGQrX-qbGbI/AAAAAAAAAEo/HZQIcjOrLXY/s320/20100812_42.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TGQrXuB6veI/AAAAAAAAAEg/gn_kOvB6iyg/s1600/20100812_43.JPG"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504572331046649314" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TGQrXuB6veI/AAAAAAAAAEg/gn_kOvB6iyg/s320/20100812_43.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Why, yes, that is a steel trap in the floor by his bed. He found it at his great-grandfather's house this summer and HAD to have it. Pawpaw was a hunter/trapper/farmer/fisherman and all around enemy to any animal that could be eaten or that threatened his crops. But he loved his family with a love that was known to all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TGQrXEWoWaI/AAAAAAAAAEY/l33feSoyuwU/s1600/20100812_44.JPG"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504572319859235234" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TGQrXEWoWaI/AAAAAAAAAEY/l33feSoyuwU/s320/20100812_44.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TGQrW73c0kI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/ZPzzK_LwpAg/s1600/20100812_46.JPG"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504572317580972610" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TGQrW73c0kI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/ZPzzK_LwpAg/s320/20100812_46.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt; The Before pictures. That's what happens when I let things slide for any period of time. Guess that won't be happening again. Now, off to tackle one of MY closets.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-5822953167299684156?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/5822953167299684156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/08/guts-of-destruction.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/5822953167299684156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/5822953167299684156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/08/guts-of-destruction.html' title='The guts of destruction'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TGQtugQaLII/AAAAAAAAAFY/nD7LcIJ2uLI/s72-c/20100812_24.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-5165902834964237562</id><published>2010-07-28T09:53:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-28T10:09:54.379-05:00</updated><title type='text'>How much is too much?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;How much should a parent interfere in the social development of their children? How much is too much?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was a kid and had a fight with a friend, it was up to me to solve the situation or take the consequences. Outside of our immediate neighborhood, my parents knew very few of my friend’s parents. So if we had a fight, the parents didn’t get involved except maybe to say “If you can’t get along, then you can’t go there anymore.” But today, if you don’t know intimate details of the parents of your friend’s kids then you are being a negligent parent. This has brought a new set of complications that is driving me insane. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NOW, if kids get in a fight, it demands calls between parents trying to work it out. And here is my problem with that – the kids lose the opportunity to learn how to deal with each other. They don’t learn how to take up for themselves when parents step in over every hurt feeling. This is creating a bunch of whiny kids that run to mom to solve their problems. Yeah, I believe that adults should step in when a child is being a bully. But just because one isn’t getting his way? Or was called a name? Or was ignored? Come on. Give the kids a chance to deal with it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-5165902834964237562?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/5165902834964237562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/07/how-much-is-too-much_28.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/5165902834964237562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/5165902834964237562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/07/how-much-is-too-much_28.html' title='How much is too much?'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-6824496292514509792</id><published>2010-07-23T13:05:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-23T13:14:06.445-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello, my name is Lisa...</title><content type='html'>and I'm a book-a-holic. How did I come to this conclusion? Several things have happened lately that opened my eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;I noticed that I have stacks of books in various places around the house. Large stacks in danger of falling over and hurting someone. The stacks are still large despite the fact that I have a ton of books loaned out to different people. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I admitted last night that my bookshelves have become the local library. Need a book? Call Lisa and see if she has it.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I can't keep up with what I have read (or what I own) without a spreadsheet.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am considering purchasing a Nook. I compared Nook and Kindle and decided that the Nook fits my needs a little better. Because I can still share my books with other people. I like sharing.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I looked at my wishlist at Barnes and Noble... 12 honest-to-goodness paper books with covers and 20 e-books. And I have another wishlist @ Amazon with completely different books - another 9 books. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;So, what am I going to do about this addiction? Not a damn thing. There are worse addictions. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-6824496292514509792?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/6824496292514509792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/07/hello-my-name-is-lisa.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/6824496292514509792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/6824496292514509792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/07/hello-my-name-is-lisa.html' title='Hello, my name is Lisa...'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-6914358629542002082</id><published>2010-07-16T13:52:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-16T14:07:47.318-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Decisions, decisions</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;March, 2009 was a turning point in my life. I know I've written something about this before...but I'm too lazy to go back and see what I actually said. And a year and a half later, my perspective has changed anyway, so. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I January of '09 I turned 40. In March '09 I had my much dreaded mammogram. And we all know how that turned out. So, next year was filled with doctor's appointments, chemo, radiation and all the fabulous things that cancer entails. Well, here it is, July 2010. I've finished everything except for the final reconstruction. We (my little family) made it through the mess, and we are in a much better place than we were before. I know what I can expect from Mike - he really stepped up. OK, it took a little prodding. And for reality to set in. And Evan - what can I say about my little man? He is a strong little boy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I have left to do is the final reconstruction - I get rid of these funky shaped tissue expanders and get REAL implants that look like REAL boobs. I'll probably get to do that in September. Yea! Perky boobs! With nipples and everything!!! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To celebrate, I want to get my first (and probably last) tattoo. I want a phoneix - this was a suggestion from &lt;a href="http://www.missdisgrace.com/"&gt;Miss Grace &lt;/a&gt;(who has one of the most awesome tattoos of all time). I don't even know if she remembers the suggestion, but it stuck in my head. I want something feminine...and it took a while, but I think I've found what I want to use for a pattern. Except I want the body shaded in either a crimson or pink.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TECtOixCaMI/AAAAAAAAAEI/KFHCLjJVxd4/s1600/Phoenix_by_Frau_Kruspe.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494582010754263234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 275px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TECtOixCaMI/AAAAAAAAAEI/KFHCLjJVxd4/s320/Phoenix_by_Frau_Kruspe.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/3096686122256860982-6914358629542002082?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/6914358629542002082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/07/decisions-decisions.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/6914358629542002082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/6914358629542002082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/07/decisions-decisions.html' title='Decisions, decisions'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TECtOixCaMI/AAAAAAAAAEI/KFHCLjJVxd4/s72-c/Phoenix_by_Frau_Kruspe.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-7642018345261738929</id><published>2010-07-07T22:58:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-07T23:22:06.655-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Holiday Weekend...plenty of drama to be had!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TDVRXm155cI/AAAAAAAAAEA/r_swufev1mw/s1600/20100706_11.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491384786653668802" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TDVRXm155cI/AAAAAAAAAEA/r_swufev1mw/s320/20100706_11.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The weekend was VERY eventful. We took a quick trip to Fairhope to spend time with family in one of the coolest little towns in Alabama. Mike had to work Friday and be back at work Tuesday, so he and a friend came Friday night and left Monday. Evan and I were there earlier Friday and didn't leave until Tuesday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quick rundown:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday night Mike and Scott were pulled over 1 block from Becky's house. Because Mike had his hand out the window and Scott had on the bright lights (trying to find street signs). They were accusing Mike of throwing something out the window? Anyway, they weren't doing anything wrong and were released. Whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Saturday morning someone broke into the cars. If it was unlocked and had anything of value, it was stolen. Our car didn't get hit. George lost his satelite radio and his wallet. Had to spend Sat morning with the bank getting that worked out. Becky lost a bag of sunscreen, sunglasses, MP3 player... So, not as bad as it could have been.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and I hit a grill with my car. That's the second one I have hit. Mike is threatening to get grill stickers and put one on my car every time I hit one. Like a WWII bomber. But he wasn't mad - that in itself is a miracle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We spent the rest of the day at the Bay getting hammered, um, I mean working on our tans. Then we came back to the house and grilled steaks, boiled shrimp and had a blast by the pool. There was a house full of people - 7 adults, 5 kids, you get the picture. Everybody was having a great time. All of the adults had washed off the Bay and were dressed - just hanging by the pool. The kids were all inside watching TV and playing video games. And then Asshole Neighbor showed up - a good combination of hammered and baked. He decided to tackle some people into the pool. Which is all fine and good - when people don't have cell phones in their pockets. And of course, he refuses to help pay for a new one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to admit something. Last year, there was a person that I referred to as, well, something not really nice. She was abrasive and I could not escape from her. And I think that was really the problem. Not her, but the fact that I couldn't escape. Last year I couldn't get in the water - I was still healing from surgery, so when you are trying to avoid infection, Mobile Bay is not the place to swim. So I stayed under a tent all day. This year? I could go wherever I wanted - and I did. She's OK in small doses. And I think Evan has a crush on her daughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fireworks were wonderful, food was great, kids were great, made a lot of new friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the Anti-BP sentiment is strong...even with the kids. I didn't get a good pic of his sail, but it says: BP lies&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TDVRXNDIdnI/AAAAAAAAAD4/t9cXouKbtFM/s1600/20100706_22.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491384779729827442" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TDVRXNDIdnI/AAAAAAAAAD4/t9cXouKbtFM/s320/20100706_22.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&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/3096686122256860982-7642018345261738929?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/7642018345261738929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/07/holiday-weekendplenty-of-drama-to-be.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/7642018345261738929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/7642018345261738929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/07/holiday-weekendplenty-of-drama-to-be.html' title='Holiday Weekend...plenty of drama to be had!'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/TDVRXm155cI/AAAAAAAAAEA/r_swufev1mw/s72-c/20100706_11.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-1107787349538045002</id><published>2010-06-13T20:15:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-13T20:29:43.786-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Lesson from the weekend</title><content type='html'>I am no longer 18. What I mean by that is...I can no longer be in the sun without sunscreen. When I was young, I could get and keep a tan in a heartbeat. Burn? Who me? What's that? I grew up in Jackson, MS in the late 70's, early 80's and moved to Birmingham, AL in 1984. What I'm saying is...I'm used to hot sun and humid air. To prepare for summer back then, I would grab the Crisco Oil or Baby Oil, a blanket, a boom box and climb on the roof. I would cover myself in oil and relax for hours. Yes, hours. And I would turn a nice golden brown. Every time. By the end of summer, I looked Native American, even though I barely have a drop of that in me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This weekend I had a couple of hours that I didn't have something to do, somewhere to be or someone to take care of. So I went to Mom's to get some sun. I spent 2 hours in the water. One on each side. I used sunscreen on the front...OK, it was only a 4 SPF, but that's better than what I ususally do. On the front I got a little pink. Not bad, just a little color. But the back. Well, I was alone, so I didn't have an assistant. And I don't really have all my range of motion back in my arms. Who am I trying to kid? I just plain didn't put any sunscreen on my back. At all. And then I fell asleep, face down in on the float. The only thing that woke me up was breathing in a little water when my face slipped on the float. All the skin on the backside that was showing was red. Not just pink. Red.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, the red is fading and turning brown, like I was hoping. By next weekend, I'm hoping that I will remember my lessons...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-1107787349538045002?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/1107787349538045002/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/06/lesson-from-weekend.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/1107787349538045002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/1107787349538045002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/06/lesson-from-weekend.html' title='Lesson from the weekend'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-942624685981271467</id><published>2010-06-02T10:45:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-02T10:51:36.133-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Good advice...</title><content type='html'>“If I were asked to give what I consider the single most useful bit of advice for all humanity it would be this: Expect trouble as an inevitable part of life and when it comes, hold your head high, look it squarely in the eye and say, ‘I will be bigger than you. You cannot defeat me.’” - Ann Landers&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Develop interest in life as you see it; in people, things, literature, music – the world is so rich, simply throbbing with rich treasures, beautiful souls and interesting people.  Forget yourself.”  -  Henry Miller&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Anger makes you smaller, while forgiveness forces you to grow beyond what you were.”  -  Cherie Carter-Smith&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-942624685981271467?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/942624685981271467/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/06/good-advice.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/942624685981271467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/942624685981271467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/06/good-advice.html' title='Good advice...'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-7794329200861591636</id><published>2010-05-24T14:45:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-24T15:02:26.791-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Busy, busy, busy</title><content type='html'>It has been so busy at home, I've barely had time to breathe. Except yesterday. The boys ditched me so I went to Mom's and played in her pool. Alone. It was SO nice. I won't pass up a day like that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What has kept me so busy? Well, my oven went out a few weeks ago. It was a drop in combo. I really didn't want to replace it. When my parents bought their current house, Mom didn't like the oven. So she replaced it. And THANK GOODNESS, she put the old one in the garage. It still works just fine, it just isn't pretty. So, this past week Dad and my husband installed it. Honestly?? Dad installed and Mike was the errand boy. And, by the way, not one single man involved in this knows how to read a tape measure. They all took measurements, but the oven was too big. There was sawing of countertops and cabinets. It all made me very nervous. But I don't care. Especially since I didn't have to buy a new one. I just had to buy a new washer and dryer, a new oven was not in the budget.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On top of that, I had a Pampered Chef party. May is Whip Cancer month, so I held a fundraising party. Instead of getting all kinds of free stuff, 25% of the retail sales will go to American Cancer Society. So. There was the prep work for that and grocery buying. I had 11 people for the event, which is a pretty good turn out. We had it at my Mom's due to the construction mess in my kitchen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wags is still holding his own. A little too well. This past week Mike has been bitten twice, the cat has been pinned against a door once. Don't feel too bad for Mike - knowing how protective Wags is of Evan, he went into Evan's room in the middle of the night, didn't turn a light on, and tried to kiss Evan. Yes, I said tried. I think he finally understands what I've been trying to tell him about dogs and territory and the one they have chosen to protect. We have decided that Wags will have to sleep in the kennel when Evan has company. No way would I risk a child being bitten. Evan is doing a great job of taking care of him. Very responsible - no complaining.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am very thankful for Mike's new job. But I had forgotten how it is to have to deal with a retail schedule and no vacation time when you are trying to take a trip. We had an opportunity to go to our favorite place next weekend...but Mike has to work. I am not complaining. Much. Evan and I could go alone, but that wouldn't really be fair since it's HIS family that we would be going to visit. So I guess I'll try to find something for Evan to do so I can enjoy some alone pool time...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-7794329200861591636?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/7794329200861591636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/05/busy-busy-busy.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/7794329200861591636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/7794329200861591636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/05/busy-busy-busy.html' title='Busy, busy, busy'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-8892925418542044477</id><published>2010-05-15T12:00:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-15T12:03:35.621-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm starting to see a theme...</title><content type='html'>And the theme is the hijinx that seems to come along with Wags. This is what he did to the fence on Friday. He didn't get out...but he can get his head through it. Mike is working on fixing it today. And my brother is brining his anti-anxiety medicine today. You would think he could have told me about that before I picked him up...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/S-7TyRK_BwI/AAAAAAAAADw/wCrQ9UW4UgA/s1600/0_0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471543457858127618" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/S-7TyRK_BwI/AAAAAAAAADw/wCrQ9UW4UgA/s320/0_0.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&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/3096686122256860982-8892925418542044477?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/8892925418542044477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/05/im-starting-to-see-theme.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/8892925418542044477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/8892925418542044477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/05/im-starting-to-see-theme.html' title='I&apos;m starting to see a theme...'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/S-7TyRK_BwI/AAAAAAAAADw/wCrQ9UW4UgA/s72-c/0_0.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-109725454338176560</id><published>2010-05-14T10:18:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-14T10:27:43.203-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Escape Artist. I have one.</title><content type='html'>Wags is proving to be a little too smart for his own good. He figured out how to un-do the latch on his kennel. And when we put a more sophisticated lock on it, he just pushed the corner of the gate until he could fit through. So now we have chains at the top, bottom and middle. Do you KNOW how long it takes to lock his sorry a@@ up before I can leave for work? And I still don't know if he's locked up right now. He may have escaped from that. Guess I'll find out this afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, he and Evan are tight. He is very protective of Evan, especially when it comes to men. I can do anything I want to, but Mike has to be careful. Like, Mike gets growled at when he goes into Evan's/Wag's room. We're working on Mike spending more time with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Choc is getting used to him. They aren't friends - but at least Choc isn't barking every. single. breath. Daphne (cat) still hides. I don't blame her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other than that, not much is going on in our neck of the woods. I have a box from Amazon sitting in my living room - books, of course - and another on the way. So, as soon as I get the house cleaned up, it's reading time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-109725454338176560?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/109725454338176560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/05/escape-artist-i-have-one.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/109725454338176560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/109725454338176560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/05/escape-artist-i-have-one.html' title='Escape Artist. I have one.'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-7065214401414052923</id><published>2010-05-10T21:33:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-11T08:34:44.293-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Here he is...Wags</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The introduction of Wags into the home went about as smooth as could be expected. The inside cat hid under a futon. My dog, Choc, barked non-stop. And Wags just stuck to Evan like glue. From the moment we picked up Wags, he was Evan's responsibility. Evan has walked him, fed him, watered him, played with him, slept with him. Yes, slept with him. Either in the floor or in his bed. I'm not stupid enough to make the 'no dog in the bed' rule because Evan sleeps with his door closed. And I can't go in without knocking...because there are things I DON'T want to accidentally see... and knocking would give them enough time to get off the bed, so really, what would I be doing but setting up a rule I KNOW would be broken? Anyway, the dog is officially Evan's. Last night before bed Evan had to take care of the bedtime bathroom trip. Wags wandered from room to room until he determined that Evan was in the bathroom. At that point, he sniffed under the door and plopped down to wait.  Here are a few pics from the weekend.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/S-jDaLexIsI/AAAAAAAAADo/Dad_A-R8pY8/s1600/20100510_59.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469836601967321794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/S-jDaLexIsI/AAAAAAAAADo/Dad_A-R8pY8/s320/20100510_59.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/S-jDZrmvAwI/AAAAAAAAADg/scY1Asdt82o/s1600/20100510_58.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469836593410802434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/S-jDZrmvAwI/AAAAAAAAADg/scY1Asdt82o/s320/20100510_58.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/S-jDZHRJ1xI/AAAAAAAAADY/N2PMn4mEcSQ/s1600/20100510_47.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469836583656609554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/S-jDZHRJ1xI/AAAAAAAAADY/N2PMn4mEcSQ/s320/20100510_47.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/S-jDYxQ2QII/AAAAAAAAADQ/QlJbJ7l4kz8/s1600/20100510_48.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469836577749745794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/S-jDYxQ2QII/AAAAAAAAADQ/QlJbJ7l4kz8/s320/20100510_48.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-7065214401414052923?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/7065214401414052923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/05/here-he-iswags.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/7065214401414052923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/7065214401414052923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/05/here-he-iswags.html' title='Here he is...Wags'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/S-jDaLexIsI/AAAAAAAAADo/Dad_A-R8pY8/s72-c/20100510_59.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-8765523102821202437</id><published>2010-05-03T11:55:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T12:24:06.586-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Apparently, insanity is catching</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Our house is a Noah's Ark of sorts. We don't let our animals breed (I believe in spaying and neutering) but they seem to keep coming. Currently, we have Choc (a chihuahua), Daphne and Aflac (cats) and Halfa (a bird). Not once have we said "Hey, let's go get an animal. Because we need something to clean up after and feed." But someone calls with a story about an animal that needs a home. Or we see a neighbor's cat that we think isn't being fed. Or a bird just flies out of nowhere and lands on Mike's shoulder - I wish I was kidding.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;We've had quite the year and Evan has born quite a bit of the brunt of it. Unintentionally, but still. He has had it pretty rough and has felt very alone at times. I know, puberty doesn't help those feelings. But he's an only child, and none of the animals are really bonded to him. Choc is MY dog. He will sit with other people, but when I sit down, he comes to me. No questions. The cats? Well, they just kind of ignore everybody. The bird is no fun, even when she is not in her cage. And Evan has been asking for a dog. One that will be his. One that doesn't look like a rat.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;So. My brother adopted a dog in December. He and his wife have always had Boxers. Their latest one died in November, so they went right out and got another. He is a sweetie. He had been chained to a tree and was barely getting a cup of food a day. That is nowhere NEAR enough for a Boxer. He's pretty gentle and will go to sleep standing up if you are petting him. But, he is very jealous of my brother. And last week he jumped on, scratched and growled at my 1 year old nephew. So, they made the decision to find him another home. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guess who is taking him in? We are picking him up Friday... Meet Wags.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/S98ABU4MXYI/AAAAAAAAADI/EZ8PBW1G7_8/s1600/Wags.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467088495435341186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 274px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/S98ABU4MXYI/AAAAAAAAADI/EZ8PBW1G7_8/s320/Wags.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&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/3096686122256860982-8765523102821202437?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/8765523102821202437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/05/apparently-insanity-is-catching.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/8765523102821202437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/8765523102821202437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/05/apparently-insanity-is-catching.html' title='Apparently, insanity is catching'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/S98ABU4MXYI/AAAAAAAAADI/EZ8PBW1G7_8/s72-c/Wags.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-6674443547405189637</id><published>2010-04-27T15:14:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-27T15:20:57.331-05:00</updated><title type='text'>3 things</title><content type='html'>I totally stole this from &lt;a href="http://www.missdisgrace.com/"&gt;Miss Grace&lt;/a&gt;... but I think it will make me feel better.  The object of this exercise is to list 3 good things going on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have awesome things planned this weekend - a mini-reunion of people I was in marching band with in high school, a book signing for a high school friend that has written a book and seeing my nephew in a karate demonstration!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I'm getting to spend a lot of time with my sister's kids.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Evan is doing well in school and has made friends with some new kids.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;That's all I can think of for the moment.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-6674443547405189637?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/6674443547405189637/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/04/3-things.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/6674443547405189637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/6674443547405189637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/04/3-things.html' title='3 things'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-7708519108799377777</id><published>2010-04-24T20:55:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-24T21:13:17.991-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Update</title><content type='html'>Thanks, everybody, for the kind words. We have seen this coming for a while. But until she hits this point, there is not a lot that can be done to help because she doesn't think she needs it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday she wore Mom out. My sister-in-law and I did dinner/desert so Mom didn't have to. Dinner was waiting when she got home with the 2 kids and their stuff. We helped unload the car and get things set up. Earlier in the day my brother-in-law had brought the crib. He recognizes that this will not be a short term situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of what Mom and BIL went through:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;She was completely ignoring the kids&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;She wouldn't bathe which is VERY unlike her - she is usually dressed to the "T", make-up and hair perfect &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;She would talk obsessively about what she had done (won't go into that) and that the police were coming to get her (there is no reason...just paranioa) &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When not talking, she would look off into space  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;They finally got her to the doctor around noon and the doctor agreed that she needed admission. But. There was no open room on the psych floor. They finally called around 3 today - which meant BIL had a rough night of listening to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I went over to Mom's to help her out. She needed to sort through what she brought to see what she still needed. About noon, Little Sister decided she needed to see her kids. So BIL brought her over. Truth be told, I think BIL just needed a break, because she ignored the kids unless they were shoved in her face. But I don't begrudge him that break. He SO needed it. But by this afternoon she was trying to convince us she was fine and didn't need to go to the hospital. Um, too bad and none of us are stupid. She tried to keep talking to me and I had to tell her that the didn't need to be talking about this in front of her 3 year old daughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, she is where she needs to be, safe, getting the help she needs.  And maybe THIS time she will stay on her meds. Maybe. But probably not.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-7708519108799377777?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/7708519108799377777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/04/update.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/7708519108799377777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/7708519108799377777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/04/update.html' title='Update'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-4468565215676501643</id><published>2010-04-23T10:43:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-23T10:45:32.972-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Why???</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Why are people that are not capable of caring for themselves perfectly able to have child after child?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet again, my sister has gone off the rails leaving her husband and my parents to deal with the mess. She is being committed today. Again.  Thoughts and statements of suicide. I know she can’t help what goes on in her brain. But she knows that medication helps and she refuses to take it. And knowing that she had these problems, she had 2 children that are innocent. One is 3 and very smart and intuitive– she knows exactly what is going on around her. The other isn’t a year old yet.  Oh, and mom found an ovulation kit by her computer today. So is she planning number 3???&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;So, as my mom and brother-in-law make plans to hospitalize my sister, my sister-in-law and I make plans to help my parents care for the 2 kids. I’m sure this isn’t what mom and dad had in mind when they retired. But we are all lucky that they are healthy and glad to help.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-4468565215676501643?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/4468565215676501643/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/04/why.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/4468565215676501643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/4468565215676501643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/04/why.html' title='Why???'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-156789949390355711</id><published>2010-04-08T20:35:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-08T20:44:22.050-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My trip...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Well, I'm back. Spent last night in Atlanta seeing Hurricane Bells, Start of Track and Field and BLUE OCTOBER!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Char and I had an amazing time! A relaxing drive, a beautiful, quaint hotel, an incredible dinner and the concert. It was a much needed break. And I'm so glad she was there with me - she tends to push me to do things that I normally wouldn't do. Like hang around the bus and get pics with all the band memebers! We got 3 pretty quick, but we had to wait for the lead singer. A long time. But it was so worth it. He signed our tickets and took a picture. They were all very nice and laid back about all the fan stuff.  Anyway, it was everything I wanted and more!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/S76E8dyjVaI/AAAAAAAAADA/lm0Q-2XgAMo/s1600/056r.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457945972743296418" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/S76E8dyjVaI/AAAAAAAAADA/lm0Q-2XgAMo/s320/056r.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; And yes, I look scared to death...but part of that is lack of visible brows....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/S76E7zGHC5I/AAAAAAAAAC4/6rj6-6wbLbY/s1600/055.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457945961282603922" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/S76E7zGHC5I/AAAAAAAAAC4/6rj6-6wbLbY/s320/055.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Back to work tomorrow....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&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/3096686122256860982-156789949390355711?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/156789949390355711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/04/my-trip.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/156789949390355711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/156789949390355711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/04/my-trip.html' title='My trip...'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/S76E8dyjVaI/AAAAAAAAADA/lm0Q-2XgAMo/s72-c/056r.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-2834730673220042026</id><published>2010-03-22T19:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-22T19:57:09.402-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Boys will be boys...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/S6gRw21jN3I/AAAAAAAAACw/m1ytZ_IFrFY/s1600-h/20100322_155.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451626879983499122" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/S6gRw21jN3I/AAAAAAAAACw/m1ytZ_IFrFY/s320/20100322_155.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/S6gRwgKttXI/AAAAAAAAACo/DRex-Sohja8/s1600-h/20100322_199.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451626873898251634" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/S6gRwgKttXI/AAAAAAAAACo/DRex-Sohja8/s320/20100322_199.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/S6gRwLMTH1I/AAAAAAAAACg/zZc2lKqpGzM/s1600-h/20100322_83.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451626868267753298" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/S6gRwLMTH1I/AAAAAAAAACg/zZc2lKqpGzM/s320/20100322_83.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-2834730673220042026?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/2834730673220042026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/03/boys-will-be-boys.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/2834730673220042026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/2834730673220042026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/03/boys-will-be-boys.html' title='Boys will be boys...'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/S6gRw21jN3I/AAAAAAAAACw/m1ytZ_IFrFY/s72-c/20100322_155.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-4231649212868457591</id><published>2010-03-22T10:51:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-22T10:59:37.023-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A growing boy...</title><content type='html'>I'm hoping that tonight I will have a little time to post some pictures fromt his weekend. We took a weekend trip to visit family and had a blast! Some things I learned:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;I need sunscreen, but not much, when it's 70 degrees and sunny. We sat by the pool all day (5 hours) and I didn't even get pink, except for the few places I didn't get sunscreen. Apparently, SPF 8 was more than I needed.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Evan (11 yrs old)  is now old enough to get a girl's phone number. A 13 year old girl. Whom he promptly ignored after getting said number.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Boys will play barefoot in the sand and water even when it is 50 degrees. They just can't resist.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Boys will climb trees even if the tree branches out over Mobile Bay and there is a very good chance they will fall into the freezing water.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Short hair is awesome. I may never let it grow out again. I never would have cut it this short by choice...and it may not be the best look for me. But I don't care. 5 second hair care is under-rated.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Giving Evan a cell phone has made things so much easier and so much harder at the same time.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-4231649212868457591?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/4231649212868457591/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/03/growing-boy.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/4231649212868457591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/4231649212868457591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/03/growing-boy.html' title='A growing boy...'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-6933380547303273452</id><published>2010-02-24T14:31:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-24T14:54:28.837-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Dude, where's my money?</title><content type='html'>Long ago, in the dark ages, there was a girl who was a band geek. Ok, it was me.  I loved being in the band, despite the social stigma. Ok, the stigma really wasn't bad for me, but it was for a lot of people. It never stopped me from dating or having friends outside the band, but the stereotypical band geeks had a hard time socializing. We worked hard all summer to perfect our half-time show. We competed in marching competitions. When that was over, we practiced for hours on symphonic band - we also competed with that. And once a year, we took a trip to compete somewhere out of state.  One year it was Panama City Beach, FL. One year Chattanooga, TN.  And we paid dearly for these trips. We did fundraiser after fundraiser. Washed cars, sold doughnuts, sold wrapping paper. We worked.  And all profits went to offset the cost of the trip. And whatever we didn't raise, we (or our parents) paid. But we worked so hard, that the costs to our families were minimal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fastforward to today. I work for a pretty large company. We have an electronic 'bulletin board'. Glamour Girl knows what I'm talking about. It's a pretty neat tool. If you lose something, a ring, a watch, earring, whatever, you can put up a little post and hopefully someone will find it and return it. If you are having to do a school/scout fundraiser, just post it out there and interested people will make a purchase. If you are participating in a marathon to raise money for whatever cause is near and dear, post it and people will donate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I was picking through it and found a post that just pissed me off.  This is not a rant against social programs - believe me, I know those are needed. So don't twist what I'm about to say into me being 'anti-helping people out'. I believe in working for what you want.  So when I came across a post asking for donations to fund a student's  $6,500 trip to Europe (Spain, France, Italy) I was shocked. When did students start asking total strangers to just donate cash? Is this the norm? He may have participated in fundraisers, but that was not mentioned. Just a straight out request for cash.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I honestly believe that kids who are given everything lose the ability and will to work for things on their own. What is he learning if people just hand him cash in exchange for nothing?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-6933380547303273452?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/6933380547303273452/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/02/dude-wheres-my-money.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/6933380547303273452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/6933380547303273452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/02/dude-wheres-my-money.html' title='Dude, where&apos;s my money?'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-7934684403771525623</id><published>2010-02-22T16:02:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-22T18:32:29.549-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A ray of sunshine</title><content type='html'>OK, I had this whole fabulous post about snow with pics and everything. And I lost it. So. Screw it. On to another subject. Oh, and as part of my solution to the previous posts...Miss Grace reminded me about parental controls. I'm so slow sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've always loved music. Always. And I've always had a few bands that just rocked my little world. But. Nothing has ever made me as happy as Blue October. I found them at a time in my life when I was a little down. Depressed. They have a song for every situation, every mood I have. And really, how can I resist that face?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/S4MDJN0BIJI/AAAAAAAAACI/TtrETN1_9lM/s1600-h/Blue+Oct.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441196231655235730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 219px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/S4MDJN0BIJI/AAAAAAAAACI/TtrETN1_9lM/s320/Blue+Oct.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But last March when they released their latest CD, Approaching Normal, there was one song that just blew me away. See, that's when I was diagnosed with breast cancer. And I needed an anthem in a bad way. Because with the right soundtrack, I can deal with anything. They delivered. Jump Rope (lyrics below). It set my attitude. It reminded me on a daily basis that things suck, but I can deal with it. Make the choice to deal. The end. No moping, no pity party. Well, maybe a pity party here or there. But they had to be short.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's when I decided if they EVER came close to B'ham, I was going.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;So I'm going.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To Atlanta, GA. On April 7, a friend and I are going for a girl's night out. Tickets purchased, hotel booked. It's something fun to look forward to - and it came at the perfect time!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g7eyqCQYBGY"&gt;Here is a link to the song on Youtube...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lyrics:&lt;br /&gt;Remember how you used to say&lt;br /&gt;You couldn't wait till tomorrow for a brand new day?&lt;br /&gt;And no fuss when you had to ride the bus&lt;br /&gt;You just add a little blush&lt;br /&gt;To paralyze your school crush&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now you're older and the weight is on your shoulder&lt;br /&gt;Make the world a little colder&lt;br /&gt;No more hiding in the old day&lt;br /&gt;Be strong&lt;br /&gt;Don't you give up hope&lt;br /&gt;It will get hard&lt;br /&gt;Life's like a jump rope&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Up, downUp, downUp, downUp, down, yeah&lt;br /&gt;'Cause it will get hard&lt;br /&gt;Remember life's like a jump rope&lt;br /&gt;Up, downUp, downUp, downUp, down, yeah&lt;br /&gt;It will get hard&lt;br /&gt;'Cause it will get hard&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There'll be a bump and there will be a bruise&lt;br /&gt;There'll be alarms and there will be a snooze&lt;br /&gt;There'll be a path that you will have to choose&lt;br /&gt;There'll be a win and there will be a lose and&lt;br /&gt;You gotta hold your head up high and&lt;br /&gt;Watch all the negative go by&lt;br /&gt;Don't ever be ashamed to cry&lt;br /&gt;You go ahead&lt;br /&gt;'Cause life's like a jump rope&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to tell you that everything will be okay&lt;br /&gt;That everything will eventually turn itself to gold&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;So keep pushing through it all&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Don't follow, lead the way&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Don't lose yourself or your hope&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;'Cause life's like a jump rope&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You stomp your feet so hard you make it pound&lt;br /&gt;Raise the bottom to the top&lt;br /&gt;And now we're never coming down&lt;br /&gt;Up, down, stomp your feet spin around&lt;br /&gt;Clap hands to the rhythm&lt;br /&gt;Then you slip down&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-7934684403771525623?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/7934684403771525623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/02/ray-of-sunshine.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/7934684403771525623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/7934684403771525623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/02/ray-of-sunshine.html' title='A ray of sunshine'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/S4MDJN0BIJI/AAAAAAAAACI/TtrETN1_9lM/s72-c/Blue+Oct.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-1016938264162401671</id><published>2010-01-29T08:23:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-29T08:38:36.217-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The plan</title><content type='html'>I've spent a lot of time thinking about how I'm going to monitor Evan's computer usage.  Right now, both computers are in my office. Kind of hard to monitor through a closed door. Not that he's been asking to use the computer this week...but there will be times when he DOES need a computer.  I finally came up with a solution.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The desktop needs to stay in the office. Many reasons - it's hooked to the printer and my Cricut.  Plus I need an office space where I can close the door. So, I will be getting a keyed lock for that door. Guess who will have the key?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The laptop. I have a corner of the living room that is unused. It's a little area by the stairs - completely unfunctional space. I'm going to get a little mission style desk that he can use for homework and put the laptop there. I can look over his shoulder at any time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know kids are curious, but there is TOO much he doesn't need to see yet!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-1016938264162401671?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/1016938264162401671/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/01/plan.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/1016938264162401671'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/1016938264162401671'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/01/plan.html' title='The plan'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-1217977477865439782</id><published>2010-01-23T16:56:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-23T17:05:50.716-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My heart is in a million pieces...</title><content type='html'>It finally happened last night. My heart is shattered. I know a billion other moms have been through this. But I finally have proof positive that I no longer have a baby. 11 years old and I no longer have a baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night E was in his room - it was way past bedtime and I wanted to make sure he was in bed. We had a lot to do this morning, and I didn't want him any grumpier than he had to be. So, I went in to check on him. I opened his door quietly because I honestly thought he might be asleep. Well, I caught him off guard. He had my laptop in his room and had the earphones on. When he saw me, his eyes bugged out and one hand immediately went to the power button while the other hand tried to close the screen down. I immediately went into 'interrogator mom' mode. "What are you looking at?" He was caught so off guard, he couldn't even lie. "Boobs - I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry!" and on and on it went. When he finaly calmed down I explained the best way I could. "E, it's only natural that you are curious, but there are viruses on those websites and I need this computer for work."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, really, I don't want him to think he's a freak for being curious. But I don't want him surfing the net for it either because the net holds a lot more than boobs. Where did the good old days go when boys would innocently find their dad's porn stash, or their mom's Victoria's Secret catalog???&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-1217977477865439782?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/1217977477865439782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/01/my-heart-is-in-million-pieces.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/1217977477865439782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/1217977477865439782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2010/01/my-heart-is-in-million-pieces.html' title='My heart is in a million pieces...'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-2390095360498014122</id><published>2009-12-05T14:15:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-07T09:23:33.060-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A WTF moment...</title><content type='html'>Last night we celebrated Evan's 11th birthday. The actual date was during the week of Thanksgiving, but everyone is usually really busy that weekend, so we postponed. We had a total of 5 boys running around here - 10 and 11 year olds. They played hide and seek in the dark. Played the Wii, Playstation, Nintendo DS and SuperNintendo. We ordered pizza, rented a movie and had a giant cookie. All in all, it was a good night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boys were up until 1, I was up until 2. The kids had heard that there MIGHT be snow...so one of the little monsters set his cell phone alarm for 6:30 AM. That's right. 6:30. Sure enough, there was snow. Just enough for 5 determined boys to have a snowball fight. Guess who the first victim was... Me, the innocent photographer!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/SxrAlheJ7KI/AAAAAAAAABg/u4T4VV4JbDk/s1600-h/20091205_118.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411849653111614626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/SxrAlheJ7KI/AAAAAAAAABg/u4T4VV4JbDk/s320/20091205_118.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;While they were having fun (4 of them wearing MY gloves) I went inside, made hot chocolate and waited for them to destroy every patch of snow they could find. There wasn't much on the ground...mostly on cars, bushes, our grill... But it was enough. Around 10:30 the moms started coming around to get the kids. Except for 1. It is now 2:30 and I still have one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WTF? Both parents have called and talked to the child. Neither has talked to me. So I have no idea what their intentions are! Are they coming? Or am I going to have him another night?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not to sound pitiful, but I am tired. I still don't have ALL of my energy back. I had planned on watching the SEC championship and sleeping all afternoon. But Evan is still having a good time, so I hate to call and ruin his fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and have I mentioned that Mike has gone to a friends house to watch the game? And was in bed last night around 8? Did I mention that shit?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Edited @ 2:48 PM - His mom just called - she's on her way. Dad was supposed to pick him up earlier, and didn't. She just got off work. Great.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Updated on Monday. After I had time to recover. Get this. I had one mom that called her son on his cell phone, had him gather his stuff and meet her by the street. Couldn't even come to the door for him. How rude is that??? I know my driveway is a bitch, but come on.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Next time we do this, I will make it very clear from the beginning. Kids to be picked up by 11. Good grief.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-2390095360498014122?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/2390095360498014122/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2009/12/wtf-moment.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/2390095360498014122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/2390095360498014122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2009/12/wtf-moment.html' title='A WTF moment...'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/SxrAlheJ7KI/AAAAAAAAABg/u4T4VV4JbDk/s72-c/20091205_118.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-5879619559762512045</id><published>2009-12-01T15:52:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-01T15:54:12.252-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The next countdown is ON!</title><content type='html'>OK - New Moon is over, all I have to do is wait for the DVD.  I will watch it over and over again. But, up next is Eclipse!!! And I have a handy dandy countdown clock to help me keep watch!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Awesomeness!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-5879619559762512045?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/5879619559762512045/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2009/12/next-countdown-is-on.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/5879619559762512045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/5879619559762512045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2009/12/next-countdown-is-on.html' title='The next countdown is ON!'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-1072325551812087321</id><published>2009-11-21T09:51:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-05T14:50:26.438-06:00</updated><title type='text'>It's been a while...</title><content type='html'>I've been MIA for a couple of weeks...I've been reading everyone else's blogs, maybe even left a comment, but I haven't had the urge to write anything myself. But, a lot has happened in the past few weeks, so I'm going to take the easy way out and use bullet points!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Had my last chemo treatment!!! Now I can move on to the next step. 30 treatments of radiation. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(Updated 12/5 - 34 treatments. 34. 7 weeks.)&lt;/span&gt; I will glow in the dark and have a sunburn on my bewb...but as soon as that is over, NEW BEWBS! Like, with nipples and everything! I'm so tired of having bewbs with no nipples. They just look odd.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Evan is hitting puberty. Hairy legs, pimples and a smart-ass mouth that rivals mine. I won't do this...but how I WANT to smack it sometimes. Good grief. He will be 11 next week. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Cleaned out Evan's closet. He is wearing a Men's Medium. Wow. Know anyone who could use some Men's Small shirts? Ebay, here I come. I have a huge pile of clothes he can't wear and his closet is still full. FULL. I'm requesting no clothes for Christmas or birthday. There is no room for them. And THAT is the definition of a spoiled child.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Almost finished my Christmas shopping. I have all neices and nephews done; my Mom's, Mike's Mom both finished. Still left? Evan, Dad and Mike. The 3 hardest to buy for.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Saw New Moon with Glamour Girl. This is our tradition - seeing the movie on opening day while the screaming teenage girls are in school. Since Eclipse opens in June...that will be out the window. Oh, we will still go, but we will need to take valium before hand.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Getting ready for Thanksgiving - so today will be full of cooking...casseroles and cookies. I'm trying to make choc chip cookies for a diabetic child...I hope they turn out right!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;OK, maybe not as much happened as I thought. But some of that was really time consuming!&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/3096686122256860982-1072325551812087321?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/1072325551812087321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2009/11/its-been-while.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/1072325551812087321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/1072325551812087321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2009/11/its-been-while.html' title='It&apos;s been a while...'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-3894435173635219039</id><published>2009-11-06T08:47:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-06T08:51:37.827-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Glamour Girl  LIVES</title><content type='html'>My buddy over @ &lt;a href="http://ggsnewlife.blogspot.com/"&gt;Glamor Girl's New Life &lt;/a&gt;has started getting questions about whether she is still around... She is, but she is NOT IN KANSAS ANYMORE and apparently Oz doesn't have good internet (non-land line) or cell service... so in the next week or so she hopes to have both of those things handled! She will be back, just be patient!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-3894435173635219039?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/3894435173635219039/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2009/11/glamour-girl-lives.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/3894435173635219039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/3894435173635219039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2009/11/glamour-girl-lives.html' title='Glamour Girl  LIVES'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-7830811519880252919</id><published>2009-11-04T23:51:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T00:00:57.551-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Halloween 2009</title><content type='html'>Yeah, I'm a little late. Here is my little pirate. Or, I should say, big pirate. He will be 11 in a few weeks and he's already 5 ft 3. Please ignore the broom in the background and the chair with clean laundry on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/SvJpcN3mj9I/AAAAAAAAABY/X-S-ZGvo3E0/s1600-h/20091102_1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400494836650774482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/SvJpcN3mj9I/AAAAAAAAABY/X-S-ZGvo3E0/s320/20091102_1.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/SvJoZZUWPgI/AAAAAAAAABQ/vUZwg8PvXZM/s1600-h/20091102_2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400493688672894466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/SvJoZZUWPgI/AAAAAAAAABQ/vUZwg8PvXZM/s320/20091102_2.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; And here's a rare pic of me. With my party wig! By this time, he was completely bored with the picture taking. And the reason I look so washed out? I have on white make up with pink and blue swirly things all over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/SvJoNwkeQiI/AAAAAAAAABI/C113vKfzjUg/s1600-h/20091102_5.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400493488756113954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/SvJoNwkeQiI/AAAAAAAAABI/C113vKfzjUg/s320/20091102_5.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; And my 3 yr old neice saw me with out the wig (do you KNOW how hot those things get?) and it kind of freaked her out. She's ok for now, but I may need to help with her therapy bill later. I forget that not everyone is used to "fuzzy headed Lisa." Oops.&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/3096686122256860982-7830811519880252919?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/7830811519880252919/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2009/11/halloween-2009.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/7830811519880252919'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/7830811519880252919'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2009/11/halloween-2009.html' title='Halloween 2009'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/SvJpcN3mj9I/AAAAAAAAABY/X-S-ZGvo3E0/s72-c/20091102_1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-7441715581445065088</id><published>2009-10-26T09:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-26T09:50:24.060-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Little Gene</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Now that I've settled down some, I can talk about the concert. I've never seen a band put on a SHOW like KISS. Buckcherry was the opening act, but I only know 2 of their songs. They were good, but there was no doubt that KISS was the main attraction.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KISS played for a good hour, but didn't play a lot of songs I knew. Gene blew fire and spit blood. Paul pranced around the stage and wiggled his ass. They rocked. Then the left the stage. I knew there would be an encore. They came back for the encore and played another full hour. This time, I knew just about every song. Gene was lifted on wires to above the lights. Paul flew across the audience to another stage. There was a confetti explosion during one song. They ended with Detroit Rock City. I don't think I've screamed and danced so much in years.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The crowd. There were so many people dressed like KISS - face paint and all. And there were a lot of toothless freaks that probably spent their last dime on tickets. But everyone was having a good time! But my very favorite person in the crowd was a 5 year old sitting behind us. That's right. 5 years old. He was dressed - wig, make up, costume - like Gene Simmons. He rocked ALL NIGHT LONG! He played air guitar like a pro and he knew all the songs - every time I looked back at him, he was singing along. Here he is, in all his glory - Little Gene:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/SuW29ku9htI/AAAAAAAAABA/LJbw51go0mI/s1600-h/Little+Gene.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396920897422329554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 271px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/SuW29ku9htI/AAAAAAAAABA/LJbw51go0mI/s320/Little+Gene.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/3096686122256860982-7441715581445065088?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/7441715581445065088/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2009/10/little-gene.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/7441715581445065088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/7441715581445065088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2009/10/little-gene.html' title='Little Gene'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/SuW29ku9htI/AAAAAAAAABA/LJbw51go0mI/s72-c/Little+Gene.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-7186069396452218577</id><published>2009-10-25T01:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-25T02:11:16.082-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Girlfriend rules</title><content type='html'>I honestly thought that I would be writing a blog about how KISS rocked tonight. I've worked my ass off all week trying to get things ready. Making sure the house was ready for the company we would be having before the concert. Making sure I had enough rest because it's only a week after my last treatment and I'm fucking tired. And KISS really did rock. They put on an awesome show. I don't know how old men like that can move the way they do. But they were incredible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But what I REALLY want to talk about is the unspoken rule that most females know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little background. There were 7 of us going. Me, my husband, husband's friend, a male friend of mine and 3 girlfriends. My male friend is T. My first love. The one I'm REALLY not over, even though I say I am. One of my girlfriends is A. Recently divorced. Needed some fun, so I invited her. And KNOWS HOW I FEEL ABOUT T. Thought she would be good with husband's friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boy, was I fucking wrong. By the third song A and T were making out. By the end of the evening...well, right now they are at his hotel and I'm writing this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, here is the unspoken rule - I shall speak it: Don't fuck your friend's ex because even if they say they are over him, they probably aren't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day I'll write about how it isn't fair to my husband that I'm having these feelings. But not tonight. Tonight, I'll just cry myself to sleep and get ready for tomorrow morning when they come back to the house for breakfast.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-7186069396452218577?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/7186069396452218577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2009/10/girlfriend-rules.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/7186069396452218577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/7186069396452218577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2009/10/girlfriend-rules.html' title='Girlfriend rules'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-1661889454902999880</id><published>2009-10-22T09:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-22T09:36:25.927-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Facebook</title><content type='html'>Let me just state this up front: I love Facebook. It has put me in touch with people I didn't think I would ever see again.  One person in particular that has made these last few months so much easier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People have forgotten how many 'friends' they have that are really no more than aquaintences. People tell things on their 'status' that shock me. True story. Last week one person announced that "Today I must go to my son's parole officer and list the violations he has committed this month. It may cost him 10 years. Its very upseting to know whats ahead for him but after repeated attempts to help him our hands are tied."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why would you announce that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I say all that, then I think about what I do on the blog. Is it really any different? Do I feel differently about the blog because it's somewhat anonymous? I talk about my husband, my son. But how much of a chance is there that someone who reads my blog will run into them and KNOW that is who I was talking about?  For the person on Facebook, she still lives in the town she grew up in. It's very likely that she and her son will be seen by people who read that post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-1661889454902999880?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/1661889454902999880/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2009/10/facebook.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/1661889454902999880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/1661889454902999880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2009/10/facebook.html' title='Facebook'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-5186356363577591852</id><published>2009-10-09T11:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-09T11:40:44.766-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Am I Old?</title><content type='html'>OK, here's the deal.  My whole life I've been very lucky when it comes to my skin.  I've used Clinique Dramatically Different Moisturizing Lotion (if you want to piss off the prissy little girls behind the Clinique counter, ask for the yellow lotion - they will correct you every time) and make up since I was 13.  I've always had combination skin. Never had to use moisturizer on my body - used hand lotion, maybe some stuff on my arms if I got too much on my hands. Never had problems with breakouts on my face - even though I NEVER took off my make-up.  Lucky, I tell you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now...the skin on my face is so dry it hurts. My arms and legs are dry. Dry. To the point where I have had to completely re-do my products. I am now using Cetaphil soap and lotion. And when I say lotion - I mean cream. It's the texture of cold cream. My skin is so dry that I can use this cold cream like stuff and within 10 minutes my skin feels perfectly normal, maybe even a little dry. I can use it under make-up and not look oily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But my question is... is this change because I'm getting older? I just turned 40. Or is it a temporary side-effect of the chemo? I'm hoping for the side-effect angle to I can look forward my skin getting back to normal!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-5186356363577591852?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/5186356363577591852/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2009/10/am-i-old.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/5186356363577591852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/5186356363577591852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2009/10/am-i-old.html' title='Am I Old?'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-6450143773552674944</id><published>2009-10-08T09:20:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-08T09:56:54.259-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Challenge</title><content type='html'>One of the blogs I read daily is The Daddy Files. There is a link in my blog roll. One of his recent posts was on the dark places in the mind. You know, the thoughts you have that you don't want others to know about. I don't write about those places often because things with Evan are going so well lately. He's long reached the age where he is not the cause of my sleep deprivation. He's been an easy child for the most part. That could all change soon since puberty is on the way. But I feel challenged by Daddy Files to tell at least one dark story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Evan was born, I was basically a single parent. I know, I was married. At least I had 2 incomes. But I was working full time, doing all the cooking and cleaning, taking care of Evan. I had NO help. Yes, I know. I should have demanded help. First, I don't like to ask for help - makes me feel weak. Second, every time I did I was denied so I gave up. I did have help from my MIL on the weekends, but she worked full time, too. I hated to ask too often. And my mom was gone every weekend. Her parents were sick so she drove 2 hrs every Friday to relieve the sitters, cooked and cleaned all weekend, drove 2 hrs back and worked a full time job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But my dear husband just couldn't be bothered. Couldn't be bothered during the week - he's an aircraft mechanic. &lt;strong&gt;If he doesn't get enough sleep, people could die.&lt;/strong&gt; I heard that shit so many times. Couldn't be bothered on the weekends because he needed to relax. Everywhere I went, Evan went with me. I never had a second to myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I had my moment. The night that made it clear to me that I was all Evan had. And he was all I had. I had had a bad day at work. I was tired. I didn't feel good physically. Of course, Mike went to bed and I was left to deal with getting Evan in bed. He was about 3 months old. I put him down and he slept for about 30 minutes. Then the crying started. Then I really started feeling sick. And he wouldn't stop crying. Then my back started hurting. And he wouldn't stop crying. And then I started throwing up. And he wouldn't stop crying. So at 3AM I asked for help. Begged. The help I got? He held Evan for about 5 minutes while I was throwing up and then handed him back to me. He had to get some sleep. By this time I knew what was wrong with me - a kidney stone. And he wouldn't stop crying. At that moment, I held my precious baby in my arms and shook. I shook so hard, that later I was worried if I had 'shaken' him. Then I started wondering what kind of mom I was going to be if I couldn't hold it together just because I was sick. And do I really WANT to be a mom? And what kind of mom wonders if she WANTS to be a mom? That opened up a nice little self-pity spiral that I rode for a few hours. But by dawn I realized that I could handle this gig. I had to. Because I was all Evan had. And he was all I had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the years, it has gotten better. For the most part, he has been an easy child. Not always, but for the most part. And Mike now actually participates when I remind him that he needs to. After all, Evan is a lot of fun now that he doesn't cry at night or need a diaper change.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-6450143773552674944?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/6450143773552674944/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2009/10/challenge.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/6450143773552674944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/6450143773552674944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2009/10/challenge.html' title='A Challenge'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-3943199405256793465</id><published>2009-10-05T15:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-05T16:07:33.992-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The return of Miss Know It All</title><content type='html'>When I first started this blogging thing I used the name Miss Know It All. It came from Glamour Girl. Every time she came across something odd, she would tell Mickey she was going to call me because I would know what to do. Usually it had to do with household stuff - laundry, etc. Micky started calling me Miss Know It All. He probably thought it would offend me...little did he know... Anyway, this weekend I came across a situation that &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;I&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; didn't know how to handle. Navy Blue Crayon in the laundry. Whole load washed AND dried. 2 pr jeans, 1 denim skirt, 4 pr khaki shorts, 2 pr denim shorts. RUINED. Every item looked like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/SspXNyYAAJI/AAAAAAAAAA4/IzfMaCINjnc/s1600-h/crayon.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389215798474571922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/SspXNyYAAJI/AAAAAAAAAA4/IzfMaCINjnc/s320/crayon.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I cried. I screamed. At Mike and Evan. Evan because he left the crayon in his pocket. Mike because he put everything in the dryer without looking. After I settled down, I called Mom. Her suggestion was WD-40. Um, no. It's a trade-off - crayon or the smell of WD-40. Then I remembered. Mike's aunt used to work in a dry cleaner. I called.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure enough, there was a possible solution. Dawn Dishwashing Liquid. I soaked every fiber that had a blue smudge. I used half of a brand new bottle. I let it soak for about 30 minutes then washed in HOT water. It worked. Damn it, it worked. I expected the washer to overflow with suds, but no. Nothing like that happened. The clothes got clean. Lives were spared.&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/3096686122256860982-3943199405256793465?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/3943199405256793465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2009/10/when-i-first-started-this-blogging.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/3943199405256793465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/3943199405256793465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2009/10/when-i-first-started-this-blogging.html' title='The return of Miss Know It All'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/SspXNyYAAJI/AAAAAAAAAA4/IzfMaCINjnc/s72-c/crayon.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-6867199034651758414</id><published>2009-10-05T08:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-05T08:33:53.415-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The weekend</title><content type='html'>This weekend was very relaxing. I had a pretty good bit of energy, so I did some house cleaning that has been ignored. That made me feel a bit better. Then I went to Homestead Hollow. It's a big arts and crafts festival that is held in our little town 3 times a year. I went Saturday with my Mother-in-law and her sister. That was OK, but rambling around with 2 old women isn't always a lot of fun. I like to stroll in an out of almost every booth. Them? Not so much. So Sunday, I took Evan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You would think a 10 yr old boy wouldn't enjoy that too much...but he and I had the best time. We went early, so we wandered around for a while then went to the food section and got a funnel cake for breakfast. Yeah, I know. But it's no worse than doughnuts. While we were eating, he actually thanked me for taking him. He told me he was glad we were getting to spend some quality time together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/Ssn02dRF-II/AAAAAAAAAAw/yNd9b-pQd70/s1600-h/Homestead.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389107645531945090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/Ssn02dRF-II/AAAAAAAAAAw/yNd9b-pQd70/s320/Homestead.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;But I have a feeling these sweet times are about to become rare. Puberty is on its way. The signs are all there...I'm just waiting for the explosion. But we will handle this, just like we handle everything else around here - one ticking time bomb at a time. And yes, in the upper right hand corner, those are civil war soldiers @ a camp site.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-6867199034651758414?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/6867199034651758414/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2009/10/weekend.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/6867199034651758414'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/6867199034651758414'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2009/10/weekend.html' title='The weekend'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9ryi64kk66A/Ssn02dRF-II/AAAAAAAAAAw/yNd9b-pQd70/s72-c/Homestead.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-9050215707383483894</id><published>2009-10-04T03:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-05T15:50:36.611-05:00</updated><title type='text'>And now, back to my regularly scheduled bragging:</title><content type='html'>Evan decided he would play the guitar a little for me. Since it's easier to upload to Youtube than blogger... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/SOL9Xvlr5dA&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/SOL9Xvlr5dA&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's about a minute long - some Metallica song that I don't know. But I'll take what I can get.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-9050215707383483894?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/9050215707383483894/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2009/10/and-now-back-to-my-regularly-scheduled.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/9050215707383483894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/9050215707383483894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2009/10/and-now-back-to-my-regularly-scheduled.html' title='And now, back to my regularly scheduled bragging:'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096686122256860982.post-7722557308096408210</id><published>2009-10-02T11:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-02T11:33:28.614-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome home</title><content type='html'>Well, this is it. My new home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started blogging a while ago with 2 friends. It was fun, but it came to the point where I needed something for myself. Here, I don't have to worry about what I say and how it will be taken and backlash hitting my friends. I don't have to worry about what other people say and backlash from that hitting me. This is mine, all mine. And if someone is offended, then I will take the heat. Plus I can decorate with Twilight stuff if I want to... But... really, this is a place to tell my stories, share theories and ask questions. A friendly place. A place where I can use my real name. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The name of the blog....well, that just kind of popped in my head. Once I made the decision to find a place of my own I realized I was laughing out loud. Not something I do very often. So it just kind of fit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3096686122256860982-7722557308096408210?l=iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/7722557308096408210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2009/10/welcome-home.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/7722557308096408210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3096686122256860982/posts/default/7722557308096408210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwaslaughingactuallylaughing.blogspot.com/2009/10/welcome-home.html' title='Welcome home'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00168721973883221546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry></feed>
