<?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-3388679542949539827</id><updated>2011-12-24T03:28:14.886-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Yada, Yada, Yada</title><subtitle type='html'>(This is the best I could do)</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>63</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-2892120031460144458</id><published>2009-06-30T15:59:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-30T16:11:01.924-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Deep Thoughts by Pamela Quigley</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Being an over-the-top excited about dip kind of person I was thinking today and I came to a realization.  Some of my favorite dips involve cream cheese:  warm spinach dip, crab dip- with the cocktail sauce, that chili cheese layer dip and Ali's candied jalapeno dip.  I'd make one of them or all of them and eat them almost every day if I could.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It makes me sad that my husband hates cream cheese.  He'll never understand...&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/3388679542949539827-2892120031460144458?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/2892120031460144458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=2892120031460144458' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/2892120031460144458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/2892120031460144458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2009/06/deep-thoughts-by-pamela-quigley.html' title='Deep Thoughts by Pamela Quigley'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-9195020155183889738</id><published>2009-06-17T13:20:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-17T13:26:26.361-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Still Kickin'</title><content type='html'>I just wanted to check in.  I'm still around- just super busy.  And that's a good thing!  I've got something fun in the works but it's too early to share.  Soon, though, I PROMISE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's to hoping it all works out...  I think it will....  but I'm still nervous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(And no.  I'm not so don't even ask.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3388679542949539827-9195020155183889738?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/9195020155183889738/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=9195020155183889738' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/9195020155183889738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/9195020155183889738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2009/06/still-kickin.html' title='Still Kickin&apos;'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-1499853481091529178</id><published>2009-05-18T16:44:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T17:00:22.956-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Also...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;It's "Voilà!"&lt;br /&gt;It is pronounced &lt;span mwref="http://www.m-w.com/mwref" class="pronchars"&gt;vwä-&lt;span class="unicode"&gt;ˈ&lt;/span&gt;lä&lt;/span&gt; with a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;V&lt;/span&gt; sound.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not "Wallah" or "Whalla" or "Wa- La" or anything else that silly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quick french lesson:  Voilà is not a sound effect.  It is a word with a meaning.  En Englais, it means "there it is!" or "see there!" because voir (or the conjugated form, vois) means "to see" and la literally means "there."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You might think I'm getting nit-picky but hopefully you'll thank me later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;PS While I'm pretending to be the Word Police, if you're a Punctuation Cop, let me know if I'm making errors.  I know there are a lot of quotation marks in this post....  &lt;/span&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/3388679542949539827-1499853481091529178?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/1499853481091529178/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=1499853481091529178' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/1499853481091529178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/1499853481091529178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2009/05/also.html' title='Also...'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-8750473343510754774</id><published>2009-05-13T21:11:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-13T21:25:14.426-05:00</updated><title type='text'>More "Words"</title><content type='html'>You drink ESpresso not EXpresso.&lt;br /&gt;Odvious is not a word.&lt;br /&gt;Neither is supposably.&lt;br /&gt;Or undoubtably. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for your other non-words in my previous post's comments.  I agree!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3388679542949539827-8750473343510754774?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/8750473343510754774/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=8750473343510754774' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/8750473343510754774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/8750473343510754774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2009/05/more-words.html' title='More &quot;Words&quot;'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-1902027875871432958</id><published>2009-05-13T13:26:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-13T13:29:19.920-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Deep Thoughts by Pamela Quigley</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Heig&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; is not a word.  It's HEIGH&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;T&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3388679542949539827-1902027875871432958?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/1902027875871432958/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=1902027875871432958' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/1902027875871432958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/1902027875871432958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2009/05/fyi.html' title='Deep Thoughts by Pamela Quigley'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-4606196935819005405</id><published>2009-04-23T13:49:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-23T14:06:54.135-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tag!  You're it!</title><content type='html'>I've been tagged by two cool ladies (&lt;a href="http://seelenfamily.wordpress.com/"&gt;Trisha &lt;/a&gt;and &lt;a href="http://lauren-livelaughlove.blogspot.com/"&gt;Lauren&lt;/a&gt;) to play this game, here's how it works: &lt;div&gt;- Mention the person that tagged you.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;- Complete the lists of 8s.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Tag 8 of your wonderful bloggy friends.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Go tell them you tagged them!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;8 things I am looking forward to:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div&gt;1.) all new grey's anatomy and office tonight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2.) going to omaha next weekend&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3.) starting a family&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4.) a couple of cute photo shoots&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5.) kissing my kitties when I get home&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;6.) my weekend full of fun plans&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;7.)  getting a job where i'll be done with busy-work, filing and payroll&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;8.) being thinner.... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;8 things I did yesterday:&lt;/b&gt; &lt;div&gt;1.) thought about calling in sick&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2.) went to work&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;3.) ate at norton's in soulard&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4.) found out Norton's was closing after 23 years&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5.) came home and snuggled my hubby and kitties&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;6.) caught up on American Idol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;7.) went grocery shopping&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;8.) took pictures&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;8 things I wish I could do:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;1.) be a photographer for a living&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2.) go home and take a nap&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3.) then clean my house&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4.) and cook a really awesome meal for my hubby&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; 5.) take a vacation to somewhere warm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;6.) lose weight by snapping my fingers&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;7.) win the lottery- a big one&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;8.) have perfect vision&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;8 shows I enjoy:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div&gt;1.) the office&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2.) grey's anatomy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3.) lie to me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4.) american idol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5.) so you think you can dance&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;6.) dancing with the stars&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;7.) the soup&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;8.) saturday night live&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;8 people I'm tagging:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;1) you&lt;br /&gt;2) you&lt;br /&gt;3) you&lt;br /&gt;4) you&lt;br /&gt;5) you&lt;br /&gt;6) you&lt;br /&gt;7) you&lt;br /&gt;8) and YOU!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3388679542949539827-4606196935819005405?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/4606196935819005405/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=4606196935819005405' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/4606196935819005405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/4606196935819005405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2009/04/tag-youre-it.html' title='Tag!  You&apos;re it!'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-3014236056073038689</id><published>2009-04-19T17:59:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-19T20:27:28.458-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Britian's Got Talent</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Wow!  If you haven't seen &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9lp0IWv8QZY&amp;amp;feature=related"&gt;THIS&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, you've probably been living under a rock for the last few days.   After being uploaded to youtube it gained 2.5 million views in 72 hours!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's one on my favorite songs from one of my favorite musicals and watching this totally made me tear up!  I was so shocked and moved and it brought back an ocean of memories of belting it out with my mom in the car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I particularly like 4:02 in the video.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talk about not judging a book by it's cover...!&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/3388679542949539827-3014236056073038689?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/3014236056073038689/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=3014236056073038689' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/3014236056073038689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/3014236056073038689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2009/04/britans-got-talent.html' title='Britian&apos;s Got Talent'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-5248088877887980180</id><published>2009-04-13T13:04:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-13T13:16:13.202-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A day late but...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, MICHAEL!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SeN-18Z8WhI/AAAAAAAAAY8/NVLsVLqbd1s/s1600-h/us%21"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SeN-18Z8WhI/AAAAAAAAAY8/NVLsVLqbd1s/s400/us%21" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324238649695164946" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;One year ago yesterday, we were running around like crazy people in 45 degree rain.  I hear it's good luck for rain on your wedding day and maybe it was.  I hear the first year is the hardest... this year was a piece of cake.  Speaking of cake....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you, MXQ!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Your Wife&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/3388679542949539827-5248088877887980180?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/5248088877887980180/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=5248088877887980180' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/5248088877887980180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/5248088877887980180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2009/04/day-late-but.html' title='A day late but...'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SeN-18Z8WhI/AAAAAAAAAY8/NVLsVLqbd1s/s72-c/us%21' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-5660657781791966285</id><published>2009-04-07T15:24:00.013-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-07T23:28:31.143-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Today's show has been brought to you by the letter B!</title><content type='html'>I recently read a list on &lt;a href="http://eggsovermedium.blogspot.com/"&gt;Jen's blog&lt;/a&gt;, where she shared 10 of her favorite things all starting with the letter J.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for my letter.  The letter B.  So, after much deliberation and in no particular order, ten of my favorite things starting with&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://anovelmenagerie.com/ghost/wp-content/uploads/2009/02/letter-b-300x300.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 230px; height: 230px;" src="http://anovelmenagerie.com/ghost/wp-content/uploads/2009/02/letter-b-300x300.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#1- Bloody Mary's!  Although I use some less common ingredients and garnishes, I've been told they're pretty good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i116.photobucket.com/albums/o39/letoile_photos/more%20images/bloodym.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 381px;" src="http://i116.photobucket.com/albums/o39/letoile_photos/more%20images/bloodym.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#2- Baby Brendan!  There's just something about that little guy (and all babies in general) that makes me all warm and fuzzy inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(My nephew)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SdvBKh98UMI/AAAAAAAAAXI/eYh2l2QO_jc/s1600-h/BABY+BREN.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 260px; height: 173px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SdvBKh98UMI/AAAAAAAAAXI/eYh2l2QO_jc/s200/BABY+BREN.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322059771329401026" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#3- Brothers- I love mine to death and now that I'm married, I've got three brothers-in-law.  They're all awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(My Brother and I)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SdvB4RqNlgI/AAAAAAAAAXY/pAClxpfzvgM/s1600-h/me+and+ted.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 166px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SdvB4RqNlgI/AAAAAAAAAXY/pAClxpfzvgM/s200/me+and+ted.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322060557225661954" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#4- Birthdays- I love birthdays!  Even though I think I'm probably the worst gift-giver ever, I love birthdays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i106.photobucket.com/albums/m241/heathercapri/msoy1/comments/birthday_sparkle.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 361px;" src="http://i106.photobucket.com/albums/m241/heathercapri/msoy1/comments/birthday_sparkle.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#5- Brunch.  Who doesn't love brunch?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://sacredmomentweddings.com/images/photo_brunch.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 224px; height: 304px;" src="http://sacredmomentweddings.com/images/photo_brunch.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#6- Baseball- especially Cardinals Baseball.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(Michael and I at the World Series win in 2006)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SdvGZ9PVWUI/AAAAAAAAAXg/Doz6USuo7WM/s1600-h/ws.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 217px; height: 162px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SdvGZ9PVWUI/AAAAAAAAAXg/Doz6USuo7WM/s200/ws.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322065533906278722" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#7- Beaches- We honeymooned in Nevis.  It was the first time I ever saw a beach (and ocean) in my life.  That's a true story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(from our honeymoon)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SdvIKByRYSI/AAAAAAAAAXw/QKVB-4moweA/s1600-h/nisbet+beach.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SdvIKByRYSI/AAAAAAAAAXw/QKVB-4moweA/s320/nisbet+beach.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322067459271909666" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#8- Burberry Boots- Michael gave me a pair on our wonderful, rainy wedding day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(*courtesy of Starry-Eyed Studios)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/Sdwj9vE7biI/AAAAAAAAAYA/vnXHuPyJ8oY/s1600-h/IMG_1256.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/Sdwj9vE7biI/AAAAAAAAAYA/vnXHuPyJ8oY/s320/IMG_1256.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322168403161214498" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#9- Bread &amp;amp; Butter- homemade, of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(&lt;a href="http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2008/12/bread-butter.html"&gt;Just another night with&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://eatingdrinkingandbeingmarried.blogspot.com/"&gt;TERESA&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/ST8rGznMlcI/AAAAAAAAAO4/4NWN8k4i7aA/s1600/bread%2B%26%2Bbutter.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 311px; height: 202px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/ST8rGznMlcI/AAAAAAAAAO4/4NWN8k4i7aA/s1600/bread%2B%26%2Bbutter.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#10- Boys- well... not &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;all &lt;/span&gt;boys.  Just this one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(*courtesy of Starry-Eyed Studios)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/Sdwm-LqNPVI/AAAAAAAAAYQ/OQx52qujMFM/s1600-h/IMG_1264.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/Sdwm-LqNPVI/AAAAAAAAAYQ/OQx52qujMFM/s400/IMG_1264.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322171709368646994" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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/3388679542949539827-5660657781791966285?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/5660657781791966285/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=5660657781791966285' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/5660657781791966285'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/5660657781791966285'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2009/04/todays-show-has-been-brought-to-you-by.html' title='Today&apos;s show has been brought to you by the letter B!'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i116.photobucket.com/albums/o39/letoile_photos/more%20images/th_bloodym.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-6381792604185651157</id><published>2009-04-06T15:34:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-06T15:52:16.832-05:00</updated><title type='text'>US of Tara</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.showtimefan.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/12/us_tara_gal_keyart_tt.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 375px; height: 500px;" src="http://www.showtimefan.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/12/us_tara_gal_keyart_tt.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I totally LOVE &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States_of_Tara#Overview"&gt;this show&lt;/a&gt; and I'm so sad this season is over. It's about a married woman with two kids and multiple personalities.  Four to be exact.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just a few months ago, I was talking with my husband about how nothing "cool" happens in the midwest- aside from Chicago- that would be fitting for a t.v. show.  Well guess what.  US of Tara takes place in Overland Park, Kansas.  (It's sort of like the West County town of Kansas City.)  Since I went to college in Kansas, I am so excited that I know what they're talking about when going to places like Oak Park Mall and in one episode, they talked about talking a roadtrip to the St. Louis Galleria.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's the little things that give me a thrill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway- check it out.  If you haven't seen it, check out Showtime On Demand and catch up!  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3388679542949539827-6381792604185651157?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/6381792604185651157/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=6381792604185651157' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/6381792604185651157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/6381792604185651157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2009/04/us-of-tara.html' title='US of Tara'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-2250783054787458302</id><published>2009-04-06T09:54:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-06T10:11:54.853-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Never a dull moment...</title><content type='html'>Here's just a glimpse into our life and home:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me, shocked and curious looking at a very visible scratch on Michael's face, "Michael, what happened?!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Pete did it," he responds.  Pete is our (usually friendly, non-scratchy) cat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why???"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I bit his tail."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You what?  What for?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clearly upset, angry and annoyed he justifies his actions.  "He was being a jerk."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess sometimes, you need to show your pet who's boss... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then they will scratch your face and show you that you're not.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3388679542949539827-2250783054787458302?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/2250783054787458302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=2250783054787458302' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/2250783054787458302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/2250783054787458302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2009/04/never-dull-moment.html' title='Never a dull moment...'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-83360971332518378</id><published>2009-04-01T09:38:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T09:54:11.519-05:00</updated><title type='text'>a little bit of a rant</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.digital-photo-secrets.com/tip/wp-content/uploads/2006/09/holdcamera.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 169px;" src="http://www.digital-photo-secrets.com/tip/wp-content/uploads/2006/09/holdcamera.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I read a lot about photography.  I read a ton of books, magazines and blogs and I even take classes from time to time to brush up and keep myself up to date.  I know I'm not a seasoned pro but there are some things from Photo 101 that everyone should know like &lt;a href="http://blog.shelleypaulson.com/?p=1489"&gt;how to hold a camera&lt;/a&gt;.  I've even seen a few professionals hold a camera this way and I just cringe every time.  Yes, at first it is a little uncomfortable (and even still, I sometimes have trouble remembering to keep my arms at my sides.)  In the beginning, I found myself wanting to rebel and "do what I want" but as time goes on, you get a little more skilled and you'd like to start increasing your credibility you'll learn.  Holding the camera the correct way makes a huge difference- especially when you're using a larger, heavier lens and your arms are getting tired.&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/3388679542949539827-83360971332518378?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/83360971332518378/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=83360971332518378' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/83360971332518378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/83360971332518378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2009/04/little-bit-of-rant.html' title='a little bit of a rant'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-75583360210570867</id><published>2009-03-30T10:51:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-30T11:00:23.465-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Whoops...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SdDsS5QhWEI/AAAAAAAAAV8/2ALWAkt65jk/s1600-h/barbie.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SdDsS5QhWEI/AAAAAAAAAV8/2ALWAkt65jk/s400/barbie.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319010969276471362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My sister and I took our three-year-old cousin to Target on Saturday.  Annie was very excited about Target- probably even more so that her two Target loving cousins.  We perused the purses and shoes and then headed over to the toy department and made a beeline to the Barbie aisle.  That's where I found this...  Wow... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For more found accidental porn click &lt;a href="http://kreinholz.blogspot.com/2008/07/pony-porn.html"&gt;HERE&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3388679542949539827-75583360210570867?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/75583360210570867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=75583360210570867' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/75583360210570867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/75583360210570867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2009/03/whoops.html' title='Whoops...'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SdDsS5QhWEI/AAAAAAAAAV8/2ALWAkt65jk/s72-c/barbie.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-4210372081930234071</id><published>2009-03-27T11:15:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-27T11:19:16.155-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Deep Thoughts by Pamela Quigley</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Spell check is a funny thing.  I always proofread emails, letters and the like multiple times and thank goodness I do.  Otherwise, I might not have caught the mistake of calling myself a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;strangler&lt;/span&gt; instead of a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;stranger&lt;/span&gt;.  Stranglers are creepy.&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/3388679542949539827-4210372081930234071?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/4210372081930234071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=4210372081930234071' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/4210372081930234071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/4210372081930234071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2009/03/deep-thoughts-by-pamela-quigley.html' title='Deep Thoughts by Pamela Quigley'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-6420056151366518836</id><published>2009-03-27T09:50:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-27T09:52:38.891-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Watch this</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;This is probably one of the best commercials I have ever seen....  but I'm touchy feely like that.  I hope you like it as much as I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/0y35ho-e0uY&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/0y35ho-e0uY&amp;amp;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;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3388679542949539827-6420056151366518836?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/6420056151366518836/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=6420056151366518836' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/6420056151366518836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/6420056151366518836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2009/03/watch-this.html' title='Watch this'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-1338729101198606847</id><published>2009-03-16T11:12:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T11:31:16.548-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Some people are just awesome</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://d3gkbha1s7sr56.cloudfront.net/someecards/filestorage/fri_131.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 425px; height: 237px;" src="http://d3gkbha1s7sr56.cloudfront.net/someecards/filestorage/fri_131.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Aww- doesn't that just warm your heart?  No really, though....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some people are just awesome.  (I'm not going to name names because I don't want to embarrass anyone or leave anyone out.)  This is just a little shout out to people who get "big sister protective" of me and my feelings, who believe in me when I sometimes have trouble believing in myself and the people who don't get upset when I ask them to unload the dishwasher and make me a milkshake (ok, maybe that one is easy to guess.)  You are the people who really keep me going.  You know who you are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Thanks.  It really means a lot to me.  Here's one for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://d3gkbha1s7sr56.cloudfront.net/someecards/filestorage/fri_10.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 425px; height: 237px;" src="http://d3gkbha1s7sr56.cloudfront.net/someecards/filestorage/fri_10.jpg" alt="" 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/3388679542949539827-1338729101198606847?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/1338729101198606847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=1338729101198606847' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/1338729101198606847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/1338729101198606847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2009/03/some-people-are-just-awesome.html' title='Some people are just awesome'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-8434191019745266923</id><published>2009-03-13T11:22:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-13T11:57:37.483-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Loving Aperture</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://blog.founddrama.net/wp-content/uploads/2008/07/aperture-icon-512.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 262px; height: 262px;" src="http://blog.founddrama.net/wp-content/uploads/2008/07/aperture-icon-512.png" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I understand that this post might not make a lot of sense to some people and for that I apologize but I am too pumped not to post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I have a new favorite program.  I love photography and I edit my own pictures in Photoshop CS2.  My husband (always encouraging me) has asked me a few times about Aperture.  I've played with it a few times at the Apple store but never really saw a point to own and use it myself.  Until now.  Apple recently released &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.apple.com/aperture/whatisaperture/"&gt;Aperture 2&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt; and I am already in love with it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It works with Photoshop- not as a replacement and the newest version has over &lt;a href="http://www.apple.com/aperture/features/100.html"&gt;100 upgrades and new features&lt;/a&gt;.  You can make basic edits in Aperture and then export the image to PS for finishing touches with filters, masks, etc.  In Aperture, not only can you lift your edits from one image and then stamp it on another but also stores all of your camera settings and tags it to your image.  (Apparently Adobe Bridge does that for RAW images but I've never used it.)  I just think this is a huge asset for me.  I've always had to write them down or get get over losing that information.  No longer.  Of course this is still a very new program for me and I'm still searching my way through all of its capabilities but I am so excited about what this means for my work.  It will help manage my workflow, allow me to &lt;a href="http://www.apple.com/aperture/tutorials/#publishoutput-book"&gt;create books&lt;/a&gt; (instead of using blurb or a similar program) and save me a ton of time!  I am seriously so excited- I feel like a 4 year-old at Christmas.  Has anyone else used this program?&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/3388679542949539827-8434191019745266923?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/8434191019745266923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=8434191019745266923' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/8434191019745266923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/8434191019745266923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2009/03/loving-aperture.html' title='Loving Aperture'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-7532061682164380305</id><published>2009-03-05T14:05:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-05T14:07:43.903-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Almost Friday!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://kreinholz.blogspot.com/2009/03/drivers-ed.html"&gt;Enjoy!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Don't forget to click on the picture to make it bigger!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3388679542949539827-7532061682164380305?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/7532061682164380305/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=7532061682164380305' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/7532061682164380305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/7532061682164380305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2009/03/almost-friday.html' title='Almost Friday!'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-4455901624721534869</id><published>2009-02-26T10:17:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-26T15:39:40.812-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I feel cheated!</title><content type='html'>I work with a lot of those "really cool" parents that bring in the order forms for their kids' fundraisers.  (My parents never did that for me.)  Anyway, I managed to avoid most of them but I was suckered into buying some Girl Scout cookies.  This really is a terrible thing.... especially for my waistline.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well today the cool mom drops off my two boxes (hey, they're just lucky I bought them in the first place and I was not about to buy more that that!)  Trying to contain myself, I put them aside so I won't eat the entire box.  This lasted for about an hour and then I dove right in.  With excitement, I tear open the Tagalongs and much to my chagrin...  they're smaller!  They are much flatter and the diameter is not as large as the Tagalongs from my day.  Of course I ate them anyway but it makes me sad to know that I just wasted 140 calories on two cookies the size of quarters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;OLD TAGALONGS&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sfvgsc.org/cookies/tagalong%20clip%20art.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 248px; height: 185px;" src="http://www.sfvgsc.org/cookies/tagalong%20clip%20art.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;NEW TAGALONGS:  they look more like thin mints...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sfvgsc.org/cookies/tagalong%20clip%20art.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 285px; height: 57px;" src="http://www.sfvgsc.org/cookies/tagalong%20clip%20art.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ACTUAL PICTURE- from my iphone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; ignore unpainted nails, crappy lighting, blur and multiple beverages in the background...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SacLvGYcWII/AAAAAAAAAUI/J8rLw0rFrNM/s1600-h/photo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SacLvGYcWII/AAAAAAAAAUI/J8rLw0rFrNM/s200/photo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307223589674309762" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&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/3388679542949539827-4455901624721534869?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/4455901624721534869/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=4455901624721534869' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/4455901624721534869'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/4455901624721534869'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-feel-cheated.html' title='I feel cheated!'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SacLvGYcWII/AAAAAAAAAUI/J8rLw0rFrNM/s72-c/photo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-436314069392940611</id><published>2009-02-23T22:14:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-24T09:39:08.661-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I want to thank the academy</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;oh... wait...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;h3 style="text-align: justify;" class="post-title entry-title"&gt; &lt;/h3&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;" class="post-body entry-content"&gt; &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0dNvaZfnt2A/SaMl4bvHd7I/AAAAAAAAB5o/U0Go_r5fhI8/s1600-h/friendsaward.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306126437420857266" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 160px; height: 160px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0dNvaZfnt2A/SaMl4bvHd7I/AAAAAAAAB5o/U0Go_r5fhI8/s400/friendsaward.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Angie over at &lt;a href="http://klenkekonfessions.blogspot.com/"&gt;Klenke Konfessions &lt;/a&gt;tagged me for an award! Thank you so much- it really does mean a lot to me and this is now one of my most valued awards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometime it can be a little rough in the blogsphere- I feels like it can be a bit of a popularity contest every once in a while and it's nice to know that &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;someone&lt;/span&gt; is reading when I didn't think anyone would.  I really do want to thank those that not only read this blog, but my other one as well.  The comments you leave are truly encouraging and have gotten me out of a few lags.  Angie said, "I like to share and I love the sense of solidarity I feel when people can relate to my posts," and I completely agree.  Thanks again, all of you, from the bottom of my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, for the fun part...Here are the rules:&lt;br /&gt;“These blogs are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers. Deliver this award to eight bloggers who must choose eight more and include this cleverly-written text into the body of their award."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is eally tough to only choose eight- especially because I just tagged a few people last week or they've already been tagged and I know for a fact that a few of my nominees will be touched but aren't always in love with tagging others but I'm going to tag them anyway!  (A heartfelt thanks will suffice.  No need to tag if you don't feel like it.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.) Jen at &lt;a href="http://eggsovermedium.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Eggs Over Medium&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.) Sarah at &lt;a href="http://www.sarahgonewild.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Sarah Gone Wild&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.) Stephanie at &lt;a href="http://kitschicagoan.blogspot.com/"&gt;Kitschicagoan&lt;/a&gt; again :)&lt;br /&gt;4.) Katie at &lt;a href="http://juankatie.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;The life of Juan &amp;amp; Katie&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.) Trisha at &lt;a href="http://seelenfamily.wordpress.com/"&gt;A Day In the Life of a Seelen&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.) Amy at &lt;a href="http://amyandblake.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;The Adventures and Mishaps of Mrs. Amy B!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.) Kristal at&lt;a href="http://goodfoodgoodfriendsgoodlife.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt; Good Food, Good Friends, Good Life&lt;/a&gt; because she almost always leaves a comment and comments make me smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blog-title"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;8.) and of course, my last one is always open for you.  If you do read my blog(s) and have never commented, I encourage you to do so now.  I love making new friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"There are many more blogs that I read but I could only nominate 8 so don't feel sad if I didn't mention you.&lt;br /&gt;I particularly love to read these 8 blogs, because these ladies are all witty, funny, and excellent writers."  -Angie.  And I completely agree.&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/3388679542949539827-436314069392940611?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/436314069392940611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=436314069392940611' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/436314069392940611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/436314069392940611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-want-to-thank-academy.html' title='I want to thank the academy'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0dNvaZfnt2A/SaMl4bvHd7I/AAAAAAAAB5o/U0Go_r5fhI8/s72-c/friendsaward.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-5799651753547921481</id><published>2009-02-18T14:15:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-18T14:44:52.900-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Sarah Interviews Me</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;So when &lt;a href="http://www.sarahgonewild.com/?p=123"&gt;Sarah&lt;/a&gt; posted this fun little game, I had to play along. First, the good part - the questions from Sarah and my answers!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;1. Where in the world IS Carmen SanDiego?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That, my Friend, is an excellent question...  I bet she's looking for Bin Laden.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;2. If you had to guess (which you do because I'm asking), what would you  say "The Thinker" is thinking about?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the birds that probably crap on him and what he really did to be stuck outside and not safe and warm dans Le Lourve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;3. Tell me all about your worst college experience. And no, not the class  related ones.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh geez...  we're gonna go there?  Hmm... I'm not sure- college was actually a pretty good experience but the worst ever was probably the last day of my junior year (2004) when I drank a HUGE Long Island Iced Tea and fell flat on my face outside the bar.  It looked like I was dragged (drug ?) behind a car.  I have never been and will never be that irresponsible again and haven't had a LIIT since.  What did I tell my parents?  The truth.  There is no lying to save your ass in a situation like that.  It was the day before my dad had to pick me up and move me home for the summer, a week before my little brother's confirmation and two weeks before I was in my cousin's wedding.  Thankfully, I healed in time for the wedding... only to faint on the altar...  but that's another story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;4. I think it's weird that a food is named "hot dog". Rename it and explain  why you chose that name.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scrap meat.  Sounds delicious.  That is what it is, after all.  Why &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;do &lt;/span&gt;they call it a dog?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;5. Would you rather be mute or infertile? (Haha - I know you like talking  AND babies!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks!  I say mute.  I can still see and while I'd be sad not to hear music or sing terribly at the top of my lungs, I'd still be able to photograph my babies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you would like to play along, here are the instructions:&lt;br /&gt;1. Leave me a comment saying, “Interview me.”&lt;br /&gt;2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. (I get to pick the questions.)&lt;br /&gt;3. You update your blog with the answers to the questions.&lt;br /&gt;4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post. You know, to pay-it-forward and keep this little interview game going.&lt;br /&gt;5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions and so on and so forth. The first five ‘askers’ get the interview!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3388679542949539827-5799651753547921481?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/5799651753547921481/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=5799651753547921481' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/5799651753547921481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/5799651753547921481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2009/02/sarah-interviews-me.html' title='Sarah Interviews Me'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-1666808145790257407</id><published>2009-02-18T01:53:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-18T09:23:43.351-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://blogs.psychologytoday.com/files/u52/sleep.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="http://blogs.psychologytoday.com/files/u52/sleep.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I swear I'm not a hypochondriac and I am fairly certain I have this:  &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Delayed_sleep_phase_syndrome"&gt;Delayed sleep-phase syndrome&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have complained about these symptoms a kazillion times and in retrospect, I'm seeing them impact my everyday life as seen &lt;a href="http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2009/02/prowler.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2009/02/25-things-about-me.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt; in #17 and 23, possibly &lt;a href="http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2008/12/random-friday.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt; in #7, &lt;a href="http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2008/11/where-is-my-head-today.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt; and blatantly obvious &lt;a href="http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2008/10/relax.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wiki states, "Often, people with the disorder report that they cannot sleep until early morning, but they fall asleep at about the same time every "night", no matter what time they go to bed. Unless they have another &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sleep_disorder" title="Sleep disorder"&gt;sleep disorder&lt;/a&gt; such as &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sleep_apnea" title="Sleep apnea"&gt;sleep apnea&lt;/a&gt; in addition to DSPS, patients can sleep well and have a normal need for sleep. Therefore, they find it very difficult to wake up in time for a typical school or work day. If, however, they are allowed to follow their own schedule, e.g. sleeping from 4 a.m. to noon, they sleep soundly, awaken spontaneously, and do not feel sleepy again until their next "night"."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That fits me perfectly.  It's the unwinding and actually &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;falling&lt;/span&gt; asleep and then the waking that's the worst part.  Once I'm asleep, I'm fine.  Even if I do wake up in the middle of the night for some reason, I rarely have trouble falling asleep again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"They often have asked family members to help wake them in the morning..."  I seriously ask my husband every night to help me wake up in the morning.  It's terrible.  In turn, I'm frequently a few minutes late in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"By the time DSPS sufferers receive an accurate diagnosis, they often have been misdiagnosed or labelled as lazy and incompetent workers or students for years."  I can't tell you how many times I have felt this way, heard it or said it about myself.  Some days seriously feel like an out of body experience.  I feel bad.  I am totally useless on those days.  It continues to read, "DSPS is often confused with &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Attention-deficit_hyperactivity_disorder" title="Attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder"&gt;ADHD or ADD&lt;/a&gt; or other sleep disorders..."  Who knows me in real life? &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; (I'm still not entirely convinced that I don't have ADHD...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found this because I couldn't sleep.  I googled insomnia and that led me to this discovery.  I know this can be related to stress, depression and anxiety but honestly (aside from the stress of everyday life) I can tell you that I've never had a problem with any of those things...  I've tried all of the suggestions to help me relax, unwind, etc.  Nothing makes a difference.  I about 4 nights ago I decided to self medicate with NyQuil.  It worked for two nights in a row.  The third night was useless.  I decided to forgo the meds tonight and see what happens and here I am- exhausted and unable to fall asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's currently 2:31 and I am wide awake- and this is common!  What do I do?  Call a sleep center? Shut up and get over it? Does anyone else have this?  Or a problem similar?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;*Why does my time stamp say 1:53?  Weird...&lt;/span&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/3388679542949539827-1666808145790257407?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/1666808145790257407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=1666808145790257407' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/1666808145790257407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/1666808145790257407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-swear-im-not-hypochondriac-and-i-am.html' title=''/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-1960248221704528343</id><published>2009-02-16T16:31:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-16T16:44:50.531-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Prowler</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I've got one in my office.  It's terrible.  I can't even think straight anymore.  I'm exhausted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm in a cubicle with my back facing a wall of offices.  The Prowler's office is just a few feet away.  He has to pass my cubicle to get to the copier, the break area, the bathroom...  there is another route but he rarely takes it.  This drives me insane.  Some days are particularly bad.  Like today.  He will seriously read a page of godknowswhat, make a copy, return to his desk and repeat that cycle for HOURS.  I wish I was exaggerating.  What is he doing?!  What could he possibly be doing in the minute and twenty-seven seconds that he sits down before he needs to get up again? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The worst days are when he wears his loafers...  I can always hear him shuffling behind me but those days are particularly distracting.  I don't understand it.  What is so hard about reading an entire article, making notes or flagging them with post-its and then making &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;one &lt;/span&gt;trip to the copier?  (Oh, and another to the shredder, just for good measure.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've tried complaing to HR...  actually, I am HR... my boss just tells me to relax.   I can't.  His prowling seriously stresses me out.  I can tell you that I'm &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;-----oh!  There he goes &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;again&lt;/span&gt;!----- &lt;/span&gt;I'm eerily calm as I type this.  I'm taking very deep breaths and counting up to 10 and down again.  If he walks by one more time I just don't know what I'm going to do...  ok....  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;now &lt;/span&gt;if he walks by one &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;more &lt;/span&gt;time....  you know what?  Just forget it.&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/3388679542949539827-1960248221704528343?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/1960248221704528343/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=1960248221704528343' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/1960248221704528343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/1960248221704528343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2009/02/prowler.html' title='The Prowler'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-4580635487695711427</id><published>2009-02-05T16:19:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T16:52:01.659-06:00</updated><title type='text'>#25</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Kristal asked for more details on my 25th random fact about me.  It's kind of long so I just thought I'd create a new post instead of a huge comment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least two or three times in my life my sister has told me about some weird dream and then it (or something eerily similar) happens.  Weird, huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My little brother's story is probably my favorite.  He has almost died about a million times.  He was born purple because the umbilical chord was in knots and wrapped around his neck, he has survived a 104.6 fever when he was about 6 weeks old and swallowed glass shards from a broken baby food jar that we didn't know was broken because the label was wrapped over it.  When he was three, they told my parents he had a benign tumor on his adenoid so doctors removed both of them along with his tonsils.  Once when playing catch with my dad, the ball hit my brother's glove a certain way, bouncing out just perfectly to hit him in the chest and send him into cardiac arrest.  My mom is certified for her job in CPR, shock and all things emergency.  She saved him before the ambulance got there.  At twelve he was diagnosed with Type I diabetes.  No, that will not kill you as long as you educate yourself and eat certain things at certain times, yada yada but year later he was diagnosed with &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coeliac_disease"&gt;Celiac Disease&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hodgkin%27s_lymphoma"&gt;Lymphoma&lt;/a&gt;.  The diets and medication almost completely clash.   A couple of months after that, the doctors told my parents that all forms of cancer and celiac were completely gone.  Vanished.  They said it was a miracle and couldn't explain it any other way.  He still gets tested to make sure it's really gone and they still haven't seen any traces of either disease.  He still has diabetes but is otherwise in perfect health.  Either way, it makes you realize that everyday with someone you love is truly a gift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My parents aren't all supernatural or anything but my dad can run really, really fast.  It's crazy.  When we were younger, he'd give us half a soccer field head start and still beat us.  He's 50 now and can still out run my also fast, 18 year-old brother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom is in the STL Cathedral choir and they sang for the Pope when they all went to the Vatican and when he came to STL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My grandmother is an extraordinary woman.  She had an amazing voice- that's probably where my mom got it- and used to sing opera.  She was also a professional tennis player.  I'm not exactly sure how long she did either but she was paid for it and people came to see her.  She's also one of the founders of &lt;a href="http://www.ourladysinn.org/"&gt;Our Lady's Inn&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My aunt, &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ann_Wagner"&gt;Ann Wagner&lt;/a&gt; is the Ambassador in Luxembourg.  (She's my mom's brother's wife.)  She lives there with the two younger kids and my uncle lives here in St. Louis.  Their oldest son goes to West Point and would like to be a Senator some day.  The distance can be challenging but they are a very happy family.  I think this is her last year and she comes home.  They have racked up zillions of frequent flyer miles and meet in Washington D.C. sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh- I forgot to add this:  A few of you commented on my husband's knowledge in the post he helped me create about the Recession.  Now, I might be a little biased but I really think that my husband is probably a genius.  He is super smart.  You know how lawyers need to pass the Bar Exam to practice?  Well people who want to work with the stock market need to pass the Series 7.  He did that when he was finishing his sophomore and going into his junior year in college.  He began pursuing his CFA after that.  There are three tests to pass before becoming a &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chartered_Financial_Analyst"&gt;CFA Charterholder&lt;/a&gt;.  He passed all three the first time.  The odds of that are less than 8%.  I think that's impressive and I'm extremely proud of him.  I'm not saying that I'm not smart but I hope to all that is holy that some of his brains are passed on to our children.  (We always joke that he's the &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Intelligence_quotient"&gt;I.Q&lt;/a&gt;. and I'm the &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emotional_intelligence"&gt;E.Q.&lt;/a&gt;)  He, of course, would never tell you this and would probably make a joke instead about paying people to take the tests and how his current job involves laundering money.  Obviously, neither of those jokes are true!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure I've got other crazy family members with crazy stories but that's all I can think of for now.  I'm pretty ordinary, relatively (pun intended) speaking.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3388679542949539827-4580635487695711427?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/4580635487695711427/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=4580635487695711427' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/4580635487695711427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/4580635487695711427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2009/02/25.html' title='#25'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-5193922020085485858</id><published>2009-02-05T10:12:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T12:46:39.670-06:00</updated><title type='text'>25 Things About Me</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"&gt;&lt;meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"&gt;&lt;meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"&gt;&lt;meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"&gt;&lt;link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5Cypg0225%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:worddocument&gt;   &lt;w:view&gt;Normal&lt;/w:View&gt;   &lt;w:zoom&gt;0&lt;/w:Zoom&gt;   &lt;w:punctuationkerning/&gt;   &lt;w:validateagainstschemas/&gt;   &lt;w:saveifxmlinvalid&gt;false&lt;/w:SaveIfXMLInvalid&gt;   &lt;w:ignoremixedcontent&gt;false&lt;/w:IgnoreMixedContent&gt;   &lt;w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext&gt;false&lt;/w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText&gt;   &lt;w:compatibility&gt;    &lt;w:breakwrappedtables/&gt;    &lt;w:snaptogridincell/&gt;    &lt;w:wraptextwithpunct/&gt;    &lt;w:useasianbreakrules/&gt;    &lt;w:dontgrowautofit/&gt;   &lt;/w:Compatibility&gt;   &lt;w:browserlevel&gt;MicrosoftInternetExplorer4&lt;/w:BrowserLevel&gt;  &lt;/w:WordDocument&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"&gt;  &lt;/w:LatentStyles&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;style&gt; &lt;!--  /* Style Definitions */  p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal 	{mso-style-parent:""; 	margin:0in; 	margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:12.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 	{size:8.5in 11.0in; 	margin:1.0in 1.0in 1.0in 1.0in; 	mso-header-margin:.5in; 	mso-footer-margin:.5in; 	mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 	{page:Section1;} --&gt; &lt;/style&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable 	{mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; 	mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; 	mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; 	mso-style-noshow:yes; 	mso-style-parent:""; 	mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; 	mso-para-margin:0in; 	mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:10.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-ansi-language:#0400; 	mso-fareast-language:#0400; 	mso-bidi-language:#0400;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;For those who haven't seen this...  I know you're just dying to know these random facts about me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I hate ketchup- like in an intense, almost fear-like way. I hate looking at it and the smell.  I think it's the tomato/vinegar tanginess. BLECH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. I love Bloody Marys and tomatoes. I also like salt and vinegar chips.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. I'm almost 26 and I still can't watch a scary movie without getting nightmares.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. One of my biggest fears is letting people down. I hate to disappoint.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Another fear is identity theft. I probably fear it more than death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. I don't really have any regrets now. I might have at the time but now I think that all of my mistakes really made me who I am and for the most part, I like who I am today....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. ....although I've been trying to lose the same 15 lbs for about 2 years. That part about me can change. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. I had a not-so-healthy obsession with the Twilight series. I'm finally returning to my "normal" state... if I ever had one to begin with...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. I once went to Schnucks and only bought cat food and alcohol. After leaving, I realized why the cashier looked at me like a pathetic, lonely cat lady.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. I am really, really hard on myself. Because of this I frequently get hives, eye infections, random viruses and so on. When I ask my doctor why these things happen they almost always tell me that it's a physical reaction to stress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. For every bad thing I do or say, I try to do one or more nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Before meeting my husband, I never knew I was capable of loving someone so much. I can't even imagine what having a child will be like!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. Oh yeah, I can be annoyingly gushy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. I have a really good sense of smell. It's honestly creepy. I'm like a bloodhound. Unfortunately some of my best skills aren't able to go on a resume.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. I also have pretty good intuition. I can usually sense a funky mood, a lie, when people have a secret or are upset, etc. I'm also pretty good at calling the ending to a movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. I talk fast but I think even faster. I frequently have about 3 thoughts, a song stuck in my head and god knows what else going on simultaneously in my brain. It's like a circus in there!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. For the life of me I cannot get my ass out of bed on time. I hit snooze about 3 times.  I wish I was one of those people that get up 2 hours before the need to leave. I would workout, shower, make coffee and do my make up at home instead of getting out of bed with barely enough time for a shower, forgoing coffee and applying make up in the car on the way to work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. I've been told that I'm a "fixer" and a "saver" meaning I like saving friendships that don't need to be saved and trying to fix damaged people that would rather stay damaged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. Because I consciously try to be positive, negativity annoys me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. I must sleep with a fan on. It’s a hereditary disease my mother passed on to all of her children. No fan = no sleep = tired, crabby, worthless Pamela.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. I can rub my belly and pat my head at the same time. I can't draw a circle (in the air) counterclockwise with my hand and move my right foot in a circle clockwise at the same time. Try it- it's impossible.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. I will be friends with just about anyone. You don't have to earn my friendship to get it but you do have to earn it to keep it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. I don't like feeling stupid. We all have our days when we aren't as sharp as others but I hate it when people make me feel like an idiot. It seriously pisses me off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24. I like making lists. For anything. (It's actually the main reason why I decided to do this.)  I have tons of different lists and nothing gives me greater satisfaction than checking everything off and throwing it away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25. My family has done some crazy/extraordinary things: my sister has psychic tendencies, my little brother has about 100 lives, my dad is probably the fastest man on the planet, my mom has sung (sang?) for the pope twice with the STL cathedral choir, my grandma was a pro tennis player and opera singer and my aunt is the US ambassador for Luxembourg. I swear to you, all of this stuff is true even though it sounds incredibly outlandish.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3388679542949539827-5193922020085485858?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/5193922020085485858/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=5193922020085485858' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/5193922020085485858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/5193922020085485858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2009/02/25-things-about-me.html' title='25 Things About Me'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-3223655567340203217</id><published>2009-02-03T23:13:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T00:33:34.008-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Will our current situation end up worse than the Depression?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I know that I'm usually silly or light-hearted on this blog but &lt;a href="http://eggsovermedium.blogspot.com/2009/02/questions.html"&gt;Jen's post&lt;/a&gt; got me thinking seriously and I turned to my Husband, &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chartered_Financial_Analyst"&gt;CFA&lt;/a&gt; and asked him the same questions for the millionth time.  Here's the response I got.  Hopefully it will ease some concerns.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_________________________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The US and global economic response to this crisis will most likely cause the US to avoid a catastrophe similar to what we saw in the 1930's (the Great Depression or "GD").  But first, we must point out what made the 1930's GD a GD.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.) countries around the world were tied to the gold standard (meaning currencies could be exchanged for a certain amount of gold held in reserves...aka the amount of money floating around could not be more than the amount of gold that was in existence)&lt;br /&gt;2.)  policy mistakes (&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Smoot-Hawley_Tariff_Act"&gt;Smoot-Hawley&lt;/a&gt;, fiscal stimulus that came too late, fed increased interest rates)&lt;br /&gt;3.) between 1 in 4 and 1 in 3 people were unemployed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To add a little background, during the 1900's the US was an agricultrually and industrially driven economy (think of farming and assembly lines).  We also happened to export quite a bit of those products (meaning we sold our stuff to other countries).  As a result, these huge sectors, to a certain extent, relied on our foreign trade partners.  This is where #1 comes into play.  Our trading partners got into trouble with the gold standard for a variety of reasons (several banks failed)...their ability to buy US ag/industry goods, was severely diminished.  With a lot less people buying, this caused the US' supply of goods to build up, and prices for those goods to tank.  So eventually, the US ended up importing more than it exported...and the people at the time did not like that.  So In response, (this is where #2 applies), congress enacted smoot-hawley tariff act, which was done with the intention of making it cheaper for Americans to buy American goods.  Our trade partners freaked out (justifiably so) and put up their own trade barriers, making things even worse as they decided to buy even less american goods.  That's when the deflationary spiral really took hold.  Farmers don't want to buy their own goods...they want to sell them...so we had a bunch of farmers with nobody to sell to.  Lots of farmers defaulted on loans because of this.  In fact, enough farmers defaulted that banks started going under and people started losing savings (which caused the infamous "bank runs").  With the financial sector in ruin, companies couldn't invest in productive capacity because they couldn't secure loans.  The Federal reserve made matters worse by actually raising interest rates, in the attempt to stem the massive outflow of investments made in the US.  With interest rates in the stratosphere, there was certainly no way anyone could get much less afford loans.  With virtually no economic activity, a country can't produce jobs for its people.  That's where #3 came from.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This time around, our policy-makers have the advantage of history.  But whats the same &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;this time around&lt;/span&gt; and whats different?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Same:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.) bank failures (lehman brothers bankruptcy really f'd everything up)&lt;br /&gt;2.) deflation (housing prices are going down)&lt;br /&gt;3.) trade protectionism (China actively manipulates its currency so their goods are always cheaper than everybody else's)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Different:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.) the federal reserve cut interest rates to 0 (making it cheap for banks to lend to each other and thus to consumers, also to keep mortgage rates low)&lt;br /&gt;2.) the FDIC insures deposits, so if there is a bank failure, nobody loses their savings&lt;br /&gt;3.) no gold standard (abandoned during the 70's) means we can print as many dollar bills as we want...so if lots of $ is destroyed b/c of bad loans or b/c banks are too chicken to lend, the treasury can always just print more money to replace what's been lost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This time around, though, China is more like the US was during the 1930's...the US has been spending like crazy for over a decade now, and all we have to do now is save.  The money we save will be regurgitated by the US Government in the form of tax cuts or rebates on buying a new home (basically, the $800bn fiscal stimulus plan that's been in the headlines).  So unemployment today will probably not go higher than 1 in 10 (its currently ~1 in 12).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;China and a lot of asian countries are more susceptable to a GD, imo.  They have invested so much money over the past decade, catering to their exporting sectors that they forgot to invest in themselves.  Now that the US and Europe are no longer spending money, asian countries face a tough road of developing an actual consumer-led economy, similar to the US'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is certainly a Great Recession, but by no means is it a Great Depression.  The policy response of our government (no matter how bad the press makes their ideas sound), the ability to print money and the focus on re-engendering confidence in the system are what will keep us out of another GD.&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/3388679542949539827-3223655567340203217?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/3223655567340203217/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=3223655567340203217' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/3223655567340203217'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/3223655567340203217'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2009/02/will-our-current-situation-end-up-worse.html' title='Will our current situation end up worse than the Depression?'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-1348767430480178539</id><published>2009-01-30T17:14:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-30T17:32:17.689-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A few tips for job seekers</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cartoonstock.com/lowres/dcr0047l.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 373px; height: 400px;" src="http://www.cartoonstock.com/lowres/dcr0047l.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I see a LOT of resumes.  I mean an insane amount for all different kinds of positions.  I always get asked, "Pamela, I'm sending my resume out.  Any good tips?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's what I say:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FOR THOSE MAILING IN RESUMES OR BRINGING THEM TO INTERVIEWS:&lt;br /&gt;If you are going to use a resume paper with a watermark on it, please for the love of all that is holy, PLEASE make sure your watermark doesn't come out upside-down and backwards.  Pay attention.  This is one of my all time pet peeves.  If you have to print it 2 or 3 times, do it.  It's the little signs that show attention to detail.  Seriously.  It is so distracting to see a backwards watermark and you really have no idea how often this happens to me.  I'm proud of the few that get it right.  If this is something you don't really care to "waste your time on" make sure you get resume paper without a watermark.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It actually serves a purpose too.  It's to let you know how the grain is supposed to go through the printer.  (Paper has grain- you can sometimes feel it.)  In ink printers, going against the grain will sometimes cause ink to bleed.  This is also visually distracting.  This is all especially important to consider when applying for a creative/graphic design type of position.  Our creative director has even told me that he doesn't want to see those resumes.  HELLO!  Would you send something to your client if it was bleeding, smeared, wrong colors or upside down?  Of course not!  (If they are qualified, I will send those candidates to other departments where it doesn't matter as much to their position, obviously.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THIS APPLIES TO ALL JOB SEEKERS, NO MATTER HOW YOU SUBMIT YOUR RESUME:&lt;br /&gt;Do not use a Microsoft Word template.  They really do all look the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you must use a word template, change the fonts.  There's nothing unique about Times New Roman font.  While we're talking about font, Comic Sans is &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;never &lt;/span&gt;ok.  Ever.  Your fonts should be clear and easy to read.  If you use more than one, do not use more than two.  More fonts than two are usually distracting and messy looking. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One more thing.  This is going to sound ridiculously obvious but it needs to be addressed.  I know that this is not the only job you applied for and that is perfectly fine.  Just remember to change the name of the company in your cover letter and objective, if you decide to incorporate those elements.  For example, if you're applying for an Account Director position at XYZ Inc. make sure your materials don't say Account Executive at ABC Agency.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and use spell check.  Seriously.&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/3388679542949539827-1348767430480178539?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/1348767430480178539/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=1348767430480178539' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/1348767430480178539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/1348767430480178539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2009/01/few-tips-for-job-seekers.html' title='A few tips for job seekers'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-9128637909577619398</id><published>2009-01-28T22:44:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-28T22:52:21.778-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My Husband is Hilarious</title><content type='html'>"Hey, Babe, why do I have &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ctRVrpM8UU"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;She'll Be Coming 'Round the Mountain&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; stuck in my head?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously?  I am laughing my ass off.  How in the hell did he get THAT song stuck in his head?!  He doesn't find it quite as funny as I do...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3388679542949539827-9128637909577619398?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/9128637909577619398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=9128637909577619398' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/9128637909577619398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/9128637909577619398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2009/01/my-husband-is-hilarious.html' title='My Husband is Hilarious'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-6379860066029104561</id><published>2009-01-26T23:32:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-26T23:59:00.626-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Tarnish?  It's nothing a little toothpaste can't fix.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;My husband's mother brought over some more of his childhood things a few days after Christmas.  Two small boxes contained ornaments from his godfather.  They were beautiful sterling sliver bells- one for the year he was born and one for his first year, I guess.  Anyway, they were incredibly tarnished.  I recalled a memory of my mom cleaning my grandmother's silverware after a huge family dinner once.  She scrubbed it with toothpaste and washed them by hand with dish soap so I thought I'd give that a try and it totally worked!  I'm sure real silver polish would probably look better but who am I kidding?  That bottle of polish would last years and years and I'd still probably never use it again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Take a look at the before and afters:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SX6g5lFGNaI/AAAAAAAAARs/0PL9MecF2Ek/s1600-h/Picture+7.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 264px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SX6g5lFGNaI/AAAAAAAAARs/0PL9MecF2Ek/s400/Picture+7.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295847122900759970" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I obviously cleaned the 1981 Bell first but they were both as tarnished and the 1982 Bell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are a couple more detailed shots:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SX6hS_5IceI/AAAAAAAAAR0/Xf06crAtFTw/s1600-h/Picture+6.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SX6hS_5IceI/AAAAAAAAAR0/Xf06crAtFTw/s400/Picture+6.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295847559595061730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SX6hct9n7mI/AAAAAAAAAR8/4HadwcNK-g4/s1600-h/Picture+5.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SX6hct9n7mI/AAAAAAAAAR8/4HadwcNK-g4/s400/Picture+5.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295847726580756066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Of course I was so excited, I immediately cleaned the 1982, forgot to take another picture and now I'm too lazy to do it but the change was impressive and now they both shine like the 1981. &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/3388679542949539827-6379860066029104561?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/6379860066029104561/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=6379860066029104561' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/6379860066029104561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/6379860066029104561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2009/01/tarnish-its-nothing-little-toothpaste.html' title='Tarnish?  It&apos;s nothing a little toothpaste can&apos;t fix.'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SX6g5lFGNaI/AAAAAAAAARs/0PL9MecF2Ek/s72-c/Picture+7.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-1900805074149176778</id><published>2009-01-22T00:04:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T00:10:50.130-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Deep Thoughts by... Michael... Quigley...?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;He came home from work today and immediately took a nap.  (I think he's fighting a cold.)  I later came home and made a pizza for dinner.  Not realizing he woke up and ate a piece he came up and gave me a hug and said, "I hope you don't mind but I ate a piece.  It was good pizza.  It tasted like love."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While watching American Idol:&lt;br /&gt;"I think I like Randy Jackson more now- knowing he's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; Michael Jackson's brother."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's funny too.&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/3388679542949539827-1900805074149176778?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/1900805074149176778/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=1900805074149176778' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/1900805074149176778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/1900805074149176778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2009/01/deep-thoughts-by-michael-quigley.html' title='Deep Thoughts by... Michael... Quigley...?'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-7999225676014396548</id><published>2009-01-16T13:15:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-16T13:33:18.100-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Deep Thoughts by Pamela Quigley</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cartoonstock.com/newscartoons/cartoonists/mbc/lowres/mbcn444l.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="http://www.cartoonstock.com/newscartoons/cartoonists/mbc/lowres/mbcn444l.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I have a really good sense of smell.  It's really good.  Like a bloodhound.  If I was a superhero, my power would be that I can identify almost any fragrance in a flash IF I've smelled it before.  You will not hear me say, "Are you wearing (___&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I'm actually having a trouble coming up with a fragrance I'm not familiar with...&lt;/span&gt;___)?" because I haven't smelled it yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, (maybe this is what freaks them out the most) often I can still smell it at like 3 in the afternoon even though you put it on at like 7am.  This also goes for some shampoos, men's cologne, hand lotions and times when someone says, "It smells like...  I don't know....  it smells like &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;something &lt;/span&gt;in here."  I can usually give a pretty good description like, "burnt popcorn and pledge," and at that moment they look at me and say, "YES- it totally does!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Try me....  I freak people out.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3388679542949539827-7999225676014396548?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/7999225676014396548/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=7999225676014396548' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/7999225676014396548'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/7999225676014396548'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2009/01/deep-thoughts-by-pamela-quigley.html' title='Deep Thoughts by Pamela Quigley'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-4737102251700377074</id><published>2008-12-22T13:46:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-22T15:04:09.777-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Traditions!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I've been tagged by &lt;a href="http://eggsovermedium.blogspot.com/"&gt;JenP&lt;/a&gt;!  So...on to our Christmas traditions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JILYrR4n89o/SU09ncItu5I/AAAAAAAACKE/zvgwdDpwUKM/s1600/Traditions_Page_0%5B1%5D.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JILYrR4n89o/SU09ncItu5I/AAAAAAAACKE/zvgwdDpwUKM/s1600/Traditions_Page_0%5B1%5D.JPG" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This will be the 3rd Christmas for Michael and me.  We've been trying to set some traditions of our own this year- especially since it's our first year married.  Growing up, my family always celebrated Christmas Eve with my dad's side.  We'd all go over there after 4:00 mass and eventually Santa would show up and pass out presents.  Sadly, that tradition ended a long time ago because my dad's side is so big and my aunts and uncles became grandparents themselves and started their own traditions.  After that, we'd still get together at my parents' house with the family that still chose to celebrate together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christmas Day was always reserved for waking up WAY to early to open presents, go to mass if we hadn't already, and then we'd head out to my grandma and grandpa's to celebrate with my mom's side.  The location has since changed, as it does every year now but we still get together.  That's always been one of my favorite parts about Christmas.  Every place we go, no matter what, there is always an extreme amount of food!  I love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year we will be doing things differently.  Michael and I are going to start our own family traditions.  We will go to my parents house on Christmas Eve.  On Christmas morning, we'll wake up, I'll make coffee while we exchange our gifts and then we'll head over to his parents for their annual eggs Benedict brunch.  We will spend the remainder of the day there and if we have time and aren't feeling rushed, we'll make it to Christmas with my mom's side of the family since it usually goes really late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It will be kind of weird to possibly not see my family on Christmas Day but it sure beats watching the clock.  I hate that.  This year we'll get some real quality family time in and I'm very excited about that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm tagging &lt;a href="http://ohbabyreinholz.blogspot.com/"&gt;Kelly&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.sarahgonewild.com/"&gt;Sarah Gone Wild&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://juankatie.blogspot.com/"&gt;Katie&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://airam73.blogspot.com/"&gt;Maria&lt;/a&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Holidays! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3388679542949539827-4737102251700377074?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/4737102251700377074/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=4737102251700377074' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/4737102251700377074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/4737102251700377074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2008/12/traditions.html' title='Traditions!'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JILYrR4n89o/SU09ncItu5I/AAAAAAAACKE/zvgwdDpwUKM/s72-c/Traditions_Page_0%5B1%5D.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-3483458811183606831</id><published>2008-12-16T08:19:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-16T08:19:00.779-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Rough Night?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SUa9nucz8BI/AAAAAAAAAPw/mglr8SH3wdY/s1600-h/olivers+rough+night.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SUa9nucz8BI/AAAAAAAAAPw/mglr8SH3wdY/s200/olivers+rough+night.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280116103319908370" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Yeah...  Him too.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3388679542949539827-3483458811183606831?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/3483458811183606831/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=3483458811183606831' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/3483458811183606831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/3483458811183606831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2008/12/rough-night.html' title='Rough Night?'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SUa9nucz8BI/AAAAAAAAAPw/mglr8SH3wdY/s72-c/olivers+rough+night.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-9010175794227416096</id><published>2008-12-15T09:09:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-15T10:04:26.442-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Hmpf...</title><content type='html'>  &lt;p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;As most of you already know, I’m just now catching on the all of this Twilight madness.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I finished Twilight and thought it was incredible!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I was totally hooked!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Then I learned of Midnight Sun- Twilight from Edward’s prospective.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was amazing.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;(By the way though… did anyone else catch the difference?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;In Twilight he drives a “shiny Volvo” and in Midnight Sun he suddenly has an Aston Martin Vanquish…&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;What’s up with that?)&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I saw the movie.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I wasn’t disappointed but (as most cases are) I found the books better than the movie and eagerly jumped into the second book of the series, New Moon.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;Hmpf…&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I really don’t want to give anything away just in case I’m not the last person on the planet to read the series but I am a little miffed.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The book was thicker than the first and I’d say that over half of it seemed to drag on for as long as Edward’s been alive.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was endless.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I was even compelled to skim and possibly jump to a later chapter.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I was too afraid that I’d miss something important so I made my husband read the plot summaries on Wikipedia so that he could tell me how much more I had to endure before the story returned to my liking.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Thanks goodness I didn’t have far to go, trudged on and completed the book around three this morning.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I have so many unanswered questions.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I feel like nothing was resolved.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I feel like it trudged on and on, drastically changed course (thankfully) and then it was over.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I will read Eclipse next but unlike others, I don’t feel the rush.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I just don’t get it…&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Twilight and Midnight Sun were like crack cocaine!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;New Moon has left me slightly disappointed but my husband told me that Eclipse will restore my faith in the series.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I hope he’s right.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;In the meantime, let’s just swoon over the guy playing a 107 yr-old vampire claiming to be a high schooler.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2240/2284878720_9ef0cd50ea.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 500px; height: 375px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2240/2284878720_9ef0cd50ea.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"&gt;&lt;meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"&gt;&lt;meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"&gt;&lt;meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"&gt;&lt;link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5Cypg0225%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:worddocument&gt;   &lt;w:view&gt;Normal&lt;/w:View&gt;   &lt;w:zoom&gt;0&lt;/w:Zoom&gt;   &lt;w:punctuationkerning/&gt;   &lt;w:validateagainstschemas/&gt;   &lt;w:saveifxmlinvalid&gt;false&lt;/w:SaveIfXMLInvalid&gt;   &lt;w:ignoremixedcontent&gt;false&lt;/w:IgnoreMixedContent&gt;   &lt;w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext&gt;false&lt;/w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText&gt;   &lt;w:compatibility&gt;    &lt;w:breakwrappedtables/&gt;    &lt;w:snaptogridincell/&gt;    &lt;w:wraptextwithpunct/&gt;    &lt;w:useasianbreakrules/&gt;    &lt;w:dontgrowautofit/&gt;   &lt;/w:Compatibility&gt;   &lt;w:browserlevel&gt;MicrosoftInternetExplorer4&lt;/w:BrowserLevel&gt;  &lt;/w:WordDocument&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"&gt;  &lt;/w:LatentStyles&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;style&gt; &lt;!--  /* Style Definitions */  p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal 	{mso-style-parent:""; 	margin:0in; 	margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:12.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 	{size:8.5in 11.0in; 	margin:1.0in 1.0in 1.0in 1.0in; 	mso-header-margin:.5in; 	mso-footer-margin:.5in; 	mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 	{page:Section1;} --&gt; &lt;/style&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable 	{mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; 	mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; 	mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; 	mso-style-noshow:yes; 	mso-style-parent:""; 	mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; 	mso-para-margin:0in; 	mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:10.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-ansi-language:#0400; 	mso-fareast-language:#0400; 	mso-bidi-language:#0400;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3388679542949539827-9010175794227416096?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/9010175794227416096/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=9010175794227416096' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/9010175794227416096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/9010175794227416096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2008/12/hmpf.html' title='Hmpf...'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2240/2284878720_9ef0cd50ea_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-9185728244016305329</id><published>2008-12-09T20:33:00.008-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T20:54:14.308-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Bread &amp; Butter</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;As mentioned before, Teresa and I made bread and butter.  (Does that sound weird to anyone else?)  Anyway, this is my version of the night in pictures. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;As any good session in the kitchen goes, everything starts with some wine.  Thankfully, Teresa found a nice sized bottle of Riesling.  No...  this picture isn't out of proportion.  That bottle was HUGE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/ST8sVjJRG9I/AAAAAAAAAPg/cWoN1LQSPMA/s1600-h/DSC_0097.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/ST8sVjJRG9I/AAAAAAAAAPg/cWoN1LQSPMA/s320/DSC_0097.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277986037024496594" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doesn't it resemble a TeeBall bat?  I'm pretty sure my little brother had a red, plastic version of this as a toddler.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/ST8sNBu1hPI/AAAAAAAAAPY/YwQCRb-pv74/s1600-h/DSC_0096.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/ST8sNBu1hPI/AAAAAAAAAPY/YwQCRb-pv74/s320/DSC_0096.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277985890616313074" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ingredients for the butter.  (Salt not pictured.)  Seems simple enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/ST8sA8NOjTI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/gjPXVp5VwOQ/s1600-h/DSC_0098.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/ST8sA8NOjTI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/gjPXVp5VwOQ/s320/DSC_0098.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277985682974739762" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shake, Shake, Shake, Shake, Shake IT!  Four minutes down, sixteen to go!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/ST8rc3gIwwI/AAAAAAAAAPA/sfr0QUJcoKQ/s1600-h/DSC_0099.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/ST8rc3gIwwI/AAAAAAAAAPA/sfr0QUJcoKQ/s320/DSC_0099.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277985063236584194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bread was done before I got there and now the butter was done.  We sat down to watch the Britney documentary- which sucked- and 40 minutes after that, the wine was done too!  (Her husband drank some too- I swear!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/ST8rr3UhhJI/AAAAAAAAAPI/0VeCRZcoAZY/s1600-h/DSC_0101.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/ST8rr3UhhJI/AAAAAAAAAPI/0VeCRZcoAZY/s320/DSC_0101.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277985320885912722" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a picture of our spread complete with two types of bread, two types of butter, cheese, pumpkin spread and the wine.  Not bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/ST8rGznMlcI/AAAAAAAAAO4/4NWN8k4i7aA/s1600-h/bread+%26+butter.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/ST8rGznMlcI/AAAAAAAAAO4/4NWN8k4i7aA/s320/bread+%26+butter.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277984684235331010" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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/3388679542949539827-9185728244016305329?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/9185728244016305329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=9185728244016305329' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/9185728244016305329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/9185728244016305329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2008/12/bread-butter.html' title='Bread &amp; Butter'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/ST8sVjJRG9I/AAAAAAAAAPg/cWoN1LQSPMA/s72-c/DSC_0097.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-5855581288366700853</id><published>2008-12-05T09:01:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-05T09:38:12.312-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Random Friday</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;#1 - Teresa helped me make butter a few nights ago! She said it was fun and she actually enjoyed the finished product.  (I think she was lying about the fun part.)  I have plenty of pics to document the occasion and when I'm not feeling as lazy, I will post them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#2 - My husband's brother and his wife gave us our wedding gift a few days ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/STlDvRFVICI/AAAAAAAAAOw/s8-jnzvlPIs/s1600-h/patrick.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/STlDvRFVICI/AAAAAAAAAOw/s8-jnzvlPIs/s320/patrick.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276322917759918114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I LOVE it!  It is crazy timing because I saw something eerily similar online and tried to recreate it in Photoshop....  not smart.  How would I display it?  Anyway- his wife started talking about how she wishes he could find a way to sell them.  He is a wonderful artist, this is handmade....  are you thinking what I'm thinking?  I told him about &lt;a href="http://www.etsy.com/"&gt;Etsy.com&lt;/a&gt; and now &lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=18187933"&gt;he has a shop&lt;/a&gt;!  Peruse it.  tell your friends!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#3 - When loading the dishasher, how do you load untensils and servingware?  The end that goes into your mouth is down, right?  I think it should be for a multitude of reasons:  when the dishes are clean, why would you grab that end with your grubby hands?  Also, if another person has loaded the dishwasher (say... at work) and a different person unloads it, the second person might not notice the knife pointing up and cut herself.  I know this because it happend to me!  Be careful, folks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#4 - I have been hearing all these commercials on the radio about the "cleanse/detox" drinks.  I think this is the new fad.  My concerns are this: not only will the products dehydrate you if you don't drink enough water but also wouldn't a laxative essentially do the same thing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#5 - I love that our office still has free coffee in the kitchen area.  I hope that doesn't change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#6 - If the economy isn't on the upswing soon, my husband is going to develop an ulcer.  Please cross your fingers that something changes soon!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#7 - Speaking of my husband, usually my first call of the day is to him because I've forgotten to tell him something like, "My garage door remote is broken so don't drive away until you close it."  Anyway, just for giggles I usually hit the redial button.  I love it when the last call of the day before was to him because when I do hit redial, I don't have to type out his whole number.  9 (to dial out)-area code- blah- blah.  As stated in Random thought #1, I can be (but am not always) pretty lazy- mentally and physically.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that's all for now.  I'm a pretty random person so I'm actually surprised I don't have more posts like this...  it's probably for the better.  Have a great weekend!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Edited for spelling and typing errors...  I hope no one caught them before I was able to correct myself. &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/3388679542949539827-5855581288366700853?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/5855581288366700853/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=5855581288366700853' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/5855581288366700853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/5855581288366700853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2008/12/random-friday.html' title='Random Friday'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/STlDvRFVICI/AAAAAAAAAOw/s8-jnzvlPIs/s72-c/patrick.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-3321771892528123587</id><published>2008-11-29T14:38:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-30T11:34:46.698-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I can't believe I made butter!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/STGvlHiBofI/AAAAAAAAANU/pytejbcwZtY/s1600-h/english+muffin+with+butter.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/STGvlHiBofI/AAAAAAAAANU/pytejbcwZtY/s200/english+muffin+with+butter.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274189690839343602" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://eatingdrinkingandbeingmarried.blogspot.com/2008/10/top-secret-culinary-project-revealed.html"&gt;Teresa&lt;/a&gt; might be able to make amazing homemade mozzarella but I just made my very own homemade butter.  I can't believe it but it is seriously incredible and so easy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All you do is mix about 2/3 of a pint of heavy cream and a teaspoon of salt in a tupperware dish with the lid on tight.  (My mom actually used a couple of baby food jars.)  Then, vigorously shake it for 20 minutes.  After about 5-10 it will look like whipped butter- keep shaking.  It will start to get really thick and you'll think you're finished around 10-15 minutes- keep shaking!  Around 18 minutes it will start to curd and you'll think you ruined it.  You haven't.  It is just the curds separating from the whey- drain the whey (you might need to do this a few times) and keep shaking.  When you hit the 20 minute mark, you'll notice it is smooth and creamy.  It tastes so good.  Is it bad that I wanted to lick my knife before I ate my english muffin?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ETA:  This will be fun at dinner parties because it would be so easy to add garlic or sun-dried tomatoes or honey to it for a little extra flavor.  I'm really excited now!&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/3388679542949539827-3321771892528123587?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/3321771892528123587/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=3321771892528123587' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/3321771892528123587'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/3321771892528123587'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-cant-believe-i-made-butter.html' title='I can&apos;t believe I made butter!'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/STGvlHiBofI/AAAAAAAAANU/pytejbcwZtY/s72-c/english+muffin+with+butter.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-8776686310890423145</id><published>2008-11-11T09:16:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T10:03:38.101-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Turn on your headlights!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3095/2559297182_0b00e8188a.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 500px; height: 281px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3095/2559297182_0b00e8188a.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haven't you seen the signs in Missouri that say, "Must use headlights when wipers are needed" or something along those lines?  Well, guess what!  It's raining outside and I can't see you because your car is gray and you're not using your headlights.  I also have a gray vehicle and I'd rather not be hit (because Mr. Whocares already drives like he's blind) so I turn them on and everyone can see me.  See?  So simple.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3388679542949539827-8776686310890423145?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/8776686310890423145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=8776686310890423145' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/8776686310890423145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/8776686310890423145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2008/11/turn-on-your-headlights.html' title='Turn on your headlights!'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-5788127587442383042</id><published>2008-11-06T11:29:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T12:02:07.307-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My current obsession</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="804202917-06112008"&gt;I have been  searching for the perfect, brown riding boot for forever. Seriously, this  season they are all the rage but my search began in the Fall of 2006 when my 9  -yr- old cousin was wearing them with a long peasant skirt and I thought to  myself, "That not only is totally my style but I think I could actually pull  that look off!" What can I say?  I guess my little cousin and I were ahead of  our time when it came to boots.  I actually had a hard time finding them at all  and I settled on a pair (that I instantly decided I hated) and got a good season  out of them. Then they fell apart and my search continues- although you might  say it never really stopped.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="804202917-06112008"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div  style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div  style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="804202917-06112008"&gt;Now those damn boots  are everywhere.  I'm suffering from lust. Lust for boots.  I have fallen in  love with this pair: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SRMuIC7KqHI/AAAAAAAAAMc/JZ8UYs8_Kp0/s1600-h/PG.BDEDWENA.COGNALE.PD.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 249px; height: 249px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SRMuIC7KqHI/AAAAAAAAAMc/JZ8UYs8_Kp0/s320/PG.BDEDWENA.COGNALE.PD.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265603105085106290" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="804202917-06112008"&gt;The brand is  Bandolino, style Edwena.  Note the perfect stacked 1 1/2 inch heel, the rounded (but not too round) toe and minimal buckles and crap.  I've seen these a few times and was waiting for the  $150+ (not including shipping) to go on sale. Yesterday I saw them for $104  including shipping!  Isn't that amazing? Well that sale is over now and leaves me  thinking, WHY DIDN'T I BUY THE DAMN BOOTS!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div face="georgia" style="text-align: justify;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div face="georgia" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="804202917-06112008"&gt;Today my friend  Kelly emails me a link.  It is a similar boot (one might argue that it is actually  better) for a much better price at JCPenney's. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SRMt6MYt12I/AAAAAAAAAMU/LTuK2Ac3GIg/s1600-h/JcPennys+-+St+John%27s+Bay+Riding+Boot.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 250px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SRMt6MYt12I/AAAAAAAAAMU/LTuK2Ac3GIg/s320/JcPennys+-+St+John%27s+Bay+Riding+Boot.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265602867106797410" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="804202917-06112008"&gt; The brand is St. John's Bay,  style June.  They are on sale from $110 marked to $43.  With glee I choose my  size.  In black?  No, I'd like brown.  That shoe is not available at this  time.  Are you kidding me?  I've called three locations to be told that they are  out of stock or online only.  I did a google search and every link I click sends  me to the JCPenney's website.  This is so depressing.  Is it childish of me to  want to throw a temper-tantrum over not having the boots?  Probably, but inside  I am pouting like a toddler.  Please don't judge me.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3388679542949539827-5788127587442383042?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/5788127587442383042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=5788127587442383042' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/5788127587442383042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/5788127587442383042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2008/11/my-current-obsession.html' title='My current obsession'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SRMuIC7KqHI/AAAAAAAAAMc/JZ8UYs8_Kp0/s72-c/PG.BDEDWENA.COGNALE.PD.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-944998799351950981</id><published>2008-11-04T13:18:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-04T13:40:38.466-06:00</updated><title type='text'>What's the kindest thing a stranger has ever done for you?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://jengrantmorris.blogspot.com/2008/11/so-uplifting.html"&gt;THIS POST&lt;/a&gt; got me thinking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mine might not seem like much to some but I am convinced that my guardian  angel's name is Joe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I used to sell copy paper and office supplies  door to door&lt;span class="654022019-04112008"&gt; for small businesses.  It was a  terrible company...  I made zero money, my back account was probably in the hole  at that time and here I am driving my car with no gas reimbursement.  I was in  "the field" having the worst day and then noticed that my gas light was on.  I figured that I'd finish up  my street, get gas and head home.  As I'm thinking this I turned the corner and  my car puttered to a stop.  Awesome.  I happened to be right outside a high  school as kids were getting out and walking home.  Fighting back tears of anger, frustration and embarrassment, I asked this kid where to  get gas and then I started walking.  In the wrong direction.  For about a mile  and a half.  I stop in a dry cleaners and this nice woman tells me she'll just  drive me to the gas station.  When we got there, to use their gas can, I had to  pay a refundable fee of $10 in cash.  All I had were checks &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(who uses checks  anymore?)&lt;/span&gt; and my debit card.  Overhearing this conversation, a man walks up,  hands the attendant a bill and tells me to "fill it up" and walks out.  I swear  to you he was wearing a white shirt and drove away in a white car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="654022019-04112008"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="654022019-04112008"&gt;I filled up the can, the woman took me to my car and  said goodbye and I go to return the can and get my gas with my debit card.  The  attendant holds up a $20 and tells me that he didn't mean "fill up your can," he meant "fill up your  tank."  (Keep in mind that this was a few years ago and you could still fill a tiny car for about that much.)  I asked her who this man was, if he was a regular, if I could leave a  card and money to pay him back.  She says that she notices lots of regulars and  he isn't one of them.  She gets and idea to look at his receipt because he paid  by credit card.  I looked at his signature is disbelief with tears in my eyes.   JOE.  That was it. His kindness will never be forgotten.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="654022019-04112008"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3388679542949539827-944998799351950981?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/944998799351950981/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=944998799351950981' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/944998799351950981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/944998799351950981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2008/11/whats-kindest-thing-stranger-has-ever.html' title='What&apos;s the kindest thing a stranger has ever done for you?'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-2212715606026463444</id><published>2008-11-03T10:29:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-18T02:00:42.649-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Where is my head today?!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SQ8n19Wt06I/AAAAAAAAAMM/oQlvEnZxd-E/s1600-h/clueless.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 167px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SQ8n19Wt06I/AAAAAAAAAMM/oQlvEnZxd-E/s200/clueless.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264470297375789986" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Seriously?  I feel like an idiot.  &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I was so proud of how productive I was last week.  I felt like I got so much accomplished.  Mondays are usually pretty slow for me but today I've already been reminded of 100 things I need to do or have done today.  Ggrggrrrr.....  get it together, Pamela!&lt;/span&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/3388679542949539827-2212715606026463444?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/2212715606026463444/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=2212715606026463444' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/2212715606026463444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/2212715606026463444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2008/11/where-is-my-head-today.html' title='Where is my head today?!'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SQ8n19Wt06I/AAAAAAAAAMM/oQlvEnZxd-E/s72-c/clueless.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-1456276440985099865</id><published>2008-11-02T00:18:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-02T00:40:13.356-05:00</updated><title type='text'>There is a point to this story, I promise</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SQ07JtVxS1I/AAAAAAAAAME/PRUBVBiWDgo/s1600-h/DSC_1209.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SQ07JtVxS1I/AAAAAAAAAME/PRUBVBiWDgo/s200/DSC_1209.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263928577441745746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I know a few of my readers have probably read this on &lt;a href="http://stlwed.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=9&amp;amp;t=19573"&gt;STLwed&lt;/a&gt; but I thought I'd post it here too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never thought I'd &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; notice my pet was missing....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night my husband and I made a fire in our fire pit. We got sleepy and he went out a few times to pour water on it and put it out.  We made sure BOTH Pete AND Oliver, our kitties, were inside since they both like to escape into the backyard. They were.  Michael and I watched a little tv in the living room and went to bed- we sleep with the door shut so they don't crawl all over our heads.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had nothing to do this morning so we slept in and woke up to Pete trying to karate kick the door down and he was meowing like crazy! I just figured he was hungry but I thought it was odd that Oliver didn't come running so I called him....  nothing. I looked everywhere and didn't see him. Panic set in, I woke Michael and got dressed. We were standing in the kitchen and we heard the saddest, most forlorn meow ever and I realized HE'S OUTSIDE! I ran out expecting to see him chasing bugs, digging (he was a dog in a former life, we think) or sunning on a chair. Nope. Then I saw his collar, open and laying in a corner near the sunroom. Our sunroom is raised and there is that lattice all around the bottom to keep animals out and somehow he got stuck under there (or maybe just stayed there for safety.) When I found him he just melted in my arms like he always does and I brought him inside. Poor little guy! We've let them out a few times while we keep an eye on them in the daytime but they are really inside cats that don't go out very often. I don't know if they just choose not to or don't know how but they've never gotten over the fence and out of the backyard so that was a little comforting to know that he was most likely in our yard...  but still!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How did this happen?!!? How did he get out?  Here's what I think...  when we went to bed it was a nice night so we had our bedroom window open. It can open from both sides and the screen slides and since it had been so long since we opened the windows we must have forgotten the screen was on the other side and and Oliver must have jumped out!  (We only have one floor so the ground wasn't far.) Thank goodness it was a nice night and not rainy or freezing and thankfully no creepy animals tried to get him or he didn't eat some toxic plant and get sick. We took him to the vet right after we found him and they said he was fine but I was so scared and I felt terrible. They said he probably didn't sleep at all and he's been sleeping all day long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you're still reading this crazy long post from The Cat Lady, there is a point to this rambling story and promised!  &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Make sure all of your pets are vaccinated and up to date (UTD) on all types of flea medications, shots, etc.  and make sure they are &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;microchipped&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;! He popped his collar off but any vet or shelter could have told someone where to return him. Also- if they are microchipped, make sure the address is UTD or tag it to your vet. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; We would have been devastated had he been truly lost.&lt;br /&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/3388679542949539827-1456276440985099865?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/1456276440985099865/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=1456276440985099865' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/1456276440985099865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/1456276440985099865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2008/11/there-is-point-to-this-story-i-promise.html' title='There is a point to this story, I promise'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SQ07JtVxS1I/AAAAAAAAAME/PRUBVBiWDgo/s72-c/DSC_1209.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-6055434714639458519</id><published>2008-10-14T13:32:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-15T15:29:12.263-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Relax!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SPTupFxe86I/AAAAAAAAALk/Iiw33BD2FkA/s1600-h/busy-lady.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SPTupFxe86I/AAAAAAAAALk/Iiw33BD2FkA/s200/busy-lady.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257089054739985314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;span class="074213218-14102008"&gt;Easier said than done, right?  I think I need a  little help here.  This might be hard to believe (she says sarcastically) but I  have trouble unwinding.  At work, some days are non-stop GO and other days are  pretty slow.  The slow days are the worst, I've found because I sit and think of  all the other things I could be doing like working out (for once!), cleaning,  cooking, decorating or adding things to my other blog and a possible side  project I'll discuss at a later date.  Instead of staring at a computer until I  go blind, I could be drinking wine on a patio while relaxing with a friend or my  mom.  Or my husband!  Then, thinking about all of these things takes a nasty  turn.  I go from dreamy relaxing thoughts to stressful frantic thoughts about  how much I have on my millions of project TO DO lists and before I know it I'm  sick to my stomach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: georgia; text-align: justify;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;span class="074213218-14102008"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"  &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: georgia; text-align: justify;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;span class="074213218-14102008"&gt;The work day ends  and I'm off.  I have about 25 minutes to myself in the car.  I usually drive in  silence because I'm sick of all my playlists and radio commercials give me road  rage.  It's true...  So whats worse?  Being alone with your chaotic thoughts  while three different songs that have been stuck in your head since Thursday  play simultaneously or listening to the radio with non-stop commercial hour and  songs that no one, I mean NO ONE likes any more like Tubthumping by  Chambawamba.  Though call...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: georgia; text-align: justify;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;span class="074213218-14102008"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"  &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: georgia; text-align: justify;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;span class="074213218-14102008"&gt;I apologize if this  post is like one run on sentence after another but sometimes that is truly what  my mind is like so here's my point.  (Yes, there is a point.)  How do you  unwind?  My perfect plan would be to come home, go running, cook dinner, clean  up a little and go to bed at a decent hour.  For me, a decent hour would be  before 11:30.  I really don't think this plan sounds like too much and millions  of people do it successfully everyday.  Why is this so hard for me?  I have  never really enjoyed working out so that's not much of a stress reliever and  honestly, on most days I think I need to unwind before I do anything.  I do have  my super energetic days where I think I can do it all and by the end of the  night, I'm so revved up that it takes forever to fall asleep.  I do the  suggested things almost every night:  turning down lights, turning t.v. or music volume down or off, limiting my visual stimulation and focusing on breathing.  I  swear to you, some days I feel like a fidgety six-year-old that drank too much Mountain Dew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I missing something?  What relaxes you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3388679542949539827-6055434714639458519?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/6055434714639458519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=6055434714639458519' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/6055434714639458519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/6055434714639458519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2008/10/relax.html' title='Relax!'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SPTupFxe86I/AAAAAAAAALk/Iiw33BD2FkA/s72-c/busy-lady.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-8166108104583109495</id><published>2008-10-10T17:16:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-10T17:18:10.653-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Crap... I'm an accidental hypocrite!</title><content type='html'>I didn't realize my other blog had the CAPTCHA...  sorry! &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; Now I'm kind of embarrassed....  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3388679542949539827-8166108104583109495?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/8166108104583109495/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=8166108104583109495' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/8166108104583109495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/8166108104583109495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2008/10/crap-im-accidental-hypocrite.html' title='Crap... I&apos;m an accidental hypocrite!'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-9178708991791138932</id><published>2008-10-09T10:08:00.009-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-09T10:56:15.222-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Just call me Susie</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SO4kaEAidqI/AAAAAAAAALA/HgIzWA7kWDY/s1600-h/salmon-dill-ck-1087038-x.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SO4kaEAidqI/AAAAAAAAALA/HgIzWA7kWDY/s200/salmon-dill-ck-1087038-x.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255177845359146658" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Susie &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(Suzy?)&lt;/span&gt; Homemaker that is, because last night I cooked a meal.  &lt;span class="413400915-09102008"&gt;I  cooked it all by myself- w&lt;/span&gt;ithout any recipes!  &lt;span class="413400915-09102008"&gt;(No, it was not a frozen pizza.  Smartass.)   &lt;/span&gt;This may seem incredibly trivial and silly to some but I am not a cook.   I can barely boil water without it overflowing.  Here's the thing- it was good.  I swear!  My husband ate it all in seven  minutes.  What was this meal?  I will tell you.  It was not difficult at all so  even I can't completely understand why I feel the need to blog about  it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="413400915-09102008"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="413400915-09102008"&gt;I made baked salmon with a light sour cream,  fresh dill and red onion spread.  For sides I sauteed asparagus and red onion  and garlic mashed potatoes.  I don't know why but I just feel like this is a  milestone in my domestic bliss.  This is actually the third thing I've made in  the last few weeks.  I'm taking baby steps.  First, I baked fresh mozzaerella on  tomato slices with balsamic vinagirette and basil.  It was kind of like  bruschetta- but better.  Then I made a chicken noodle soup.  I don't know how I  did it and I probably couldn't even give you a recipe for that but the fact that  I did it made me (and my husband) proud.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3388679542949539827-9178708991791138932?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/9178708991791138932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=9178708991791138932' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/9178708991791138932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/9178708991791138932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2008/10/just-call-me-susie.html' title='Just call me Susie'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SO4kaEAidqI/AAAAAAAAALA/HgIzWA7kWDY/s72-c/salmon-dill-ck-1087038-x.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-8389879371126727302</id><published>2008-10-06T16:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-06T16:42:01.085-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Deep Thoughts by Pamela Quigley</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SOZOTzIJaoI/AAAAAAAAAKA/6scL8uCBaNk/s1600-h/ijustine_captcha.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SOZOTzIJaoI/AAAAAAAAAKA/6scL8uCBaNk/s200/ijustine_captcha.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252972117423123074" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;CAPTCHA.  &lt;b&gt;C&lt;/b&gt;ompletely &lt;b&gt;A&lt;/b&gt;utomated &lt;b&gt;P&lt;/b&gt;ublic &lt;b&gt;T&lt;/b&gt;uring test to tell &lt;b&gt;C&lt;/b&gt;omputers and &lt;b&gt;H&lt;/b&gt;umans &lt;b&gt;A&lt;/b&gt;part.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I understand the purpose and the intentions are great but man, is it annoying.  Sometimes it is really easy- like four letters &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;FHND&lt;/span&gt;.  Other times it seems to be about 18 letters long with squiggly marks on it and the &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;T&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; looks more like a &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;7&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; and after the third or fourth attempt I just give up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just because I don't comment on blogs or frequently leave comments on myspace doesn't mean that I'm not reading.  I am.  I just probably got in a captcha fight and lost.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3388679542949539827-8389879371126727302?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/8389879371126727302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=8389879371126727302' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/8389879371126727302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/8389879371126727302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2008/10/deep-thoughts-by-pamela-quigley.html' title='Deep Thoughts by Pamela Quigley'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SOZOTzIJaoI/AAAAAAAAAKA/6scL8uCBaNk/s72-c/ijustine_captcha.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-6376808789734124629</id><published>2008-10-03T11:33:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-03T11:42:10.653-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Seriously?  Who does that?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;My dentist and I are quickly becoming very VERY close.  Why, you ask?  Well, two years of not ever going has taken quite a toll on my mouth.  Gross...  I needed a lot of work done so I've been seeing her about once a week or so for about a month and I've got about two more appointments before we're done.  (Not counting actually getting my wisdom teeth pulled...  that will happen in January.  DO NOT tell me about any of your experiences, I BEG you!  I am already scared enough.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I went in for two fillings.  I suppose I'm getting used to being shot with novocaine and such because half way through the prodedure &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;I fell asleep!&lt;/span&gt;  I swear to you.  I woke up to her telling me to open my mouth.  I guess I was tired and she numbed me up really well and well....  I dozed off for a few seconds.  Seriously.  Who does that?&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/3388679542949539827-6376808789734124629?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/6376808789734124629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=6376808789734124629' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/6376808789734124629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/6376808789734124629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2008/10/seriously-who-does-that.html' title='Seriously?  Who does that?'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-6115265736362519727</id><published>2008-08-25T21:09:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-25T21:11:42.787-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Blog?</title><content type='html'>Why not?  I'm going to still keep this one for random rants and raves but this one is about a specific interest of mine.  &lt;a href="http://my-life-thru-a-lens.blogspot.com/"&gt;Hope you like it. &lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3388679542949539827-6115265736362519727?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/6115265736362519727/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=6115265736362519727' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/6115265736362519727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/6115265736362519727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2008/08/another-blog.html' title='Another Blog?'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-256037090249922585</id><published>2008-08-25T13:58:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-14T14:19:48.581-05:00</updated><title type='text'>McDonald's Sucks</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span class="503404618-25082008"&gt;I had a doctor's  appointment last Wednesday morning (nothing serious, just routine) and since it  ended earlier that I expected, I decided to hop on to over McDizzle's (you  probably just call it McDonald's) for a breakfast burrito.  I look at my clock.   It says 10:12.  Perfect.  That should be enough time to get through the six cars  ahead of me and place my order.  Just as my clock says 10:26 I pull up to order-  angry that it's taken that long in the first place.  (We all know that they stop  selling breakfast at 10:30.... )  I don't know why I felt the need to ask but I  did.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span class="503404618-25082008"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: georgia; text-align: justify;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: georgia; text-align: justify;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span class="503404618-25082008"&gt;"You're still  serving breakfast, right?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: georgia; text-align: justify;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span class="503404618-25082008"&gt;"No- it's lunch  time."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: georgia; text-align: justify;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span class="503404618-25082008"&gt;"What!??   seriously?  It's 10:26!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: georgia; text-align: justify;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span class="503404618-25082008"&gt;"Our clock says  10:30."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: georgia; text-align: justify;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span class="503404618-25082008"&gt;"On the  dot??"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: georgia; text-align: justify;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span class="503404618-25082008"&gt;"Yes."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: georgia; text-align: justify;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span class="503404618-25082008"&gt;"What is this?  Is  it on bar time!?!?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: georgia; text-align: justify;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: georgia; text-align: justify;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span class="503404618-25082008"&gt;So I drove away.   Angry.  And hungry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: georgia; text-align: justify;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: georgia; text-align: justify;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span class="503404618-25082008"&gt;I still had an  entire four minutes!  I KNOW my clock in the car isn't that off.  And WTF!?!?   Who wants to eat lunch at 10:30 in the freaking morning?!!  I can deal with it  at 11 but not 10:30.  I hate that place and those breakfast  Nazis.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3388679542949539827-256037090249922585?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/256037090249922585/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=256037090249922585' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/256037090249922585'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/256037090249922585'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2008/08/mcdonalds-sucks.html' title='McDonald&apos;s Sucks'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-8807104360482918239</id><published>2008-08-12T11:17:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-12T11:24:17.553-05:00</updated><title type='text'>If they mated....</title><content type='html'>I stumbled upon this website that takes your picture and your husbands and then somehow generates what your baby will look like.  My husband and I have a pretty good idea what our future children will look like- curly (probably red) hair, blue eyes, round nose, freckles...  Of course I wanted to try this and see if our predictions matched a computer's!  The few that I saw seemed cute and oddly possible.  Well....  then I got our results....  tell me what you think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SKG4AxSxK7I/AAAAAAAAAGw/UPeYCom3erM/s1600-h/whoops+baby.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SKG4AxSxK7I/AAAAAAAAAGw/UPeYCom3erM/s400/whoops+baby.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233666565352795058" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not quite what I was expecting....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3388679542949539827-8807104360482918239?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/8807104360482918239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=8807104360482918239' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/8807104360482918239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/8807104360482918239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2008/08/if-they-mated.html' title='If they mated....'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SKG4AxSxK7I/AAAAAAAAAGw/UPeYCom3erM/s72-c/whoops+baby.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-5528047484322005761</id><published>2008-07-15T17:10:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-15T17:10:01.048-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't know what to title this post</title><content type='html'>but look at what I found!  Ok, ok- in all fairness, I found it on someone else's blog but isn't this fun?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;a href="http://wordle.net/gallery/wrdl/68768/Untitled" &lt;br /&gt;   title="Wordle: Untitled"&gt;&lt;img&lt;br /&gt;   src="http://wordle.net/thumb/wrdl/68768/Untitled"&lt;br /&gt;   style="padding:4px;border:1px solid #ddd"&lt;br /&gt;   &gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can make your own at &lt;a href="http://wordle.net"&gt;Wordle&lt;/a&gt;.  I used the lyrics from At Last which was our first dance.  I actually wanted to do something similar with those lyrics but maybe I'll just do this.  My other idea was to use black paint and put it on a white canvas.  Ehh...  who am I kidding?  I'll probably do both!  Hope you like it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3388679542949539827-5528047484322005761?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/5528047484322005761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=5528047484322005761' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/5528047484322005761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/5528047484322005761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2008/07/i-dont-know-what-to-title-this-post.html' title='I don&apos;t know what to title this post'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-5916446797979602</id><published>2008-07-14T12:53:00.009-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-14T13:45:54.930-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Two years ago today...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SHud0bkS7bI/AAAAAAAAAF0/pSe_fVfJzA8/s1600-h/2ani+flowers.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 426px;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SHud0bkS7bI/AAAAAAAAAF0/pSe_fVfJzA8/s400/2ani+flowers.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222941716944973234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I met my Husband.  If you would have told me a week and two years ago that I'd meet the man of my dreams and marry him, I would have probably laughed in your face!  If you ask him how we met, he'll just tell you that I showed up on his doorstep one day.  Actually, I worked with his roommate and knew he had single friends.  His roommate called one night and asked if I wanted to hang out and I jumped at the chance.  He said that a cab would be there in 20 minutes and in 20 minutes I was ready to go, he was waiting on the curb and shaking his hand.  To be totally honest- I almost didn't give him my phone number.  Actually, I was about to give him the rejection hotline!  I figured that this guy was way out of my league and to avoid disappointment altogether, I should just walk away.  As I was writing it down, I decided to take a chance.  I am so glad I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We didn't date for long before love came and smacked us in the face.  It is so true when they say, "When you know, you just know."  Almost six months to the day after we met, he proposed.  It was perfect.  Sixteen months after that, we were &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SHub1w1X84I/AAAAAAAAAFk/pTUICVyAU-o/s1600-h/photo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SHub1w1X84I/AAAAAAAAAFk/pTUICVyAU-o/s320/photo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222939540810363778" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;married.  I know that not many couples remember or celebrate the day they met but we do.  That day seriously changed &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;everything&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is so awesome.  He even sent these to work today!  I'm the luckiest.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3388679542949539827-5916446797979602?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/5916446797979602/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=5916446797979602' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/5916446797979602'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/5916446797979602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2008/07/two-years-ago-today.html' title='Two years ago today...'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SHud0bkS7bI/AAAAAAAAAF0/pSe_fVfJzA8/s72-c/2ani+flowers.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-5082577329576718682</id><published>2008-07-01T13:52:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-01T14:04:57.671-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Pamela needs...</title><content type='html'>Reading through my blog roll, I came across a little game.  Type in "(your name) needs" and see what comes up.  Interesting....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pamela needs:&lt;br /&gt;  -&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;a sperm donor&lt;/span&gt;.  Really?  No thanks.&lt;br /&gt;  -&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;a lesson in fashion&lt;/span&gt;.  Hmmm.....  I bet they're talking about Pamela Anderson....&lt;br /&gt;  -&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;help&lt;/span&gt;.  Yep- that seals the deal.  All of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;my &lt;/span&gt;needs are about Pamela Anderson.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nonetheless, here are some more:&lt;br /&gt;  -&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;a hug&lt;/span&gt;.  Yes, that would be lovely.&lt;br /&gt;  -&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;an easier life&lt;/span&gt;.  Don't we all?&lt;br /&gt;  -&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;to go home.&lt;/span&gt;  Oh, Google, how you taunt me so.  I would love to go home and take a nap.  Especially after the day I've had...&lt;br /&gt;  -&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;another $50,000&lt;/span&gt;.  Another $50,000!?!?  Where was my first $50,000??  Never mind, I'll take it!&lt;br /&gt;  -&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;to trust her talents and instincts&lt;/span&gt;.  Yeah...  That's like saying, "follow your heart."  Thanks...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3388679542949539827-5082577329576718682?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/5082577329576718682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=5082577329576718682' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/5082577329576718682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/5082577329576718682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2008/07/pamela-needs.html' title='Pamela needs...'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-407121956786703045</id><published>2008-06-18T21:43:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-18T22:04:31.755-05:00</updated><title type='text'>You have GOT to be kidding me</title><content type='html'>So I'm walking through Hobby Lobby (yeah, that's right!  I love that place!) and I'm checking out the summer decorations to potentially hang on my front door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFnKvBj88HI/AAAAAAAAAFM/IPXkQ1jfyKs/s1600-h/Christmas-Decorations_web.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFnKvBj88HI/AAAAAAAAAFM/IPXkQ1jfyKs/s200/Christmas-Decorations_web.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213420952879951986" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then....  there it is.......&lt;br /&gt;an &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;entire two aisles&lt;/span&gt; dedicated to&lt;br /&gt;CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have got to be kidding me!!!!  Seriously?!?  In JUNE?!?! We haven't even celebrated the 4th of July, Columbus Day or Labor Day!  I thought Thanksgiving was early but I can handle it.  Then the tall, fake Christmas trees started making appearances around Halloween.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But JUNE!?!?  This just stresses me out!  Well if they think I'm going to start my Christmas shopping in June, they've got another thing coming.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3388679542949539827-407121956786703045?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/407121956786703045/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=407121956786703045' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/407121956786703045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/407121956786703045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2008/06/you-have-got-to-be-kidding-me.html' title='You have GOT to be kidding me'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFnKvBj88HI/AAAAAAAAAFM/IPXkQ1jfyKs/s72-c/Christmas-Decorations_web.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-54436590321702744</id><published>2008-06-17T09:12:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-17T10:31:44.901-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Husband, My Hero</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFfT6KaJM2I/AAAAAAAAAEg/LlFBGYQtlnw/s1600-h/Muck-frontyard.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFfT6KaJM2I/AAAAAAAAAEg/LlFBGYQtlnw/s320/Muck-frontyard.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212868089884521314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He really is.  I'd be so lost without him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I consider myself a morning person &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;after &lt;/span&gt;I have gotten out of bed.&lt;br /&gt;That's the thing...  actually getting up and running is the hardest part.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every morning he helps me decide what I'm going to wear and chases down my blue flip flops or my missing UGG as I recreate the scene from "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" where she learns how to put contacts in.  As I run out the door, he hands me my keys, a &lt;a href="http://www.bolthouse.com/juice_main.html"&gt;Bolthouse&lt;/a&gt;  and my cell phone and waves to me as I pull out of the driveway.    What a perfect way to start my day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3388679542949539827-54436590321702744?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/54436590321702744/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=54436590321702744' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/54436590321702744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/54436590321702744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2008/06/my-husband-my-hero.html' title='My Husband, My Hero'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFfT6KaJM2I/AAAAAAAAAEg/LlFBGYQtlnw/s72-c/Muck-frontyard.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-7196876557460292838</id><published>2008-06-13T16:15:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-13T16:18:36.658-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Pamela vs. mxq</title><content type='html'>Just in case you're curious....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband and I share an email account.  We both comment on very different types of blogs.  Depending on who has used it last, you might see my picture with mxq tagged to it.  He didn't comment, though.  I did.  He likes dogs and nail polish.  Just not enough to comment about them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stay tuned.  We will work through this kink together.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3388679542949539827-7196876557460292838?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/7196876557460292838/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=7196876557460292838' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/7196876557460292838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/7196876557460292838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2008/06/pamela-vs-mxq.html' title='Pamela vs. mxq'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-2516940187486347894</id><published>2008-06-12T22:23:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-12T22:33:13.067-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Deep Thoughts by Pamela Quigley</title><content type='html'>I know this has been posted on other blogs that we all frequent but I have been thinking and I just wanted to say that I've come to the realization that you guys (from stlwed) probably know me better than my real friends.  Seriously!  I feel like we talk about way more stuff.  I can post any thought I have in my head (like i am right now) via blog or thread and half the time, when I see my "real" friends, the thought is forgotten or I just don't think to tell them.  I know we've had this discussion before at the GNOs (Girls Night Out) but honestly, most of you have become my real friends.  I wouldn't have it any other way.  &lt;a href="http://lovethatsunshine.blogspot.com/2008/06/girls-night-out.html"&gt;See?  Look at how much fun we have!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok... enough with the sappy talk!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3388679542949539827-2516940187486347894?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/2516940187486347894/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=2516940187486347894' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/2516940187486347894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/2516940187486347894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2008/06/deep-thoughts-by-pamela-quigley.html' title='Deep Thoughts by Pamela Quigley'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-3377728815582559676</id><published>2008-06-11T23:06:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-11T23:18:02.444-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I GOT A NNNNNEW CAAAAAAR!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFCh-TANDWI/AAAAAAAAADs/MgZZVZtSx6s/s1600-h/a4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFCh-TANDWI/AAAAAAAAADs/MgZZVZtSx6s/s320/a4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210842860492754274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I usually try to be more humble than this but I am just so excited!!!  I got a new car!!!  It is an Audi A4 Quattro- which means it has 4-wheel drive- which makes me feel so much safer in our crazy Missouri weather.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now...  I know what you're thinking....  "but Pamela, your Honda was so wonderful!  What happened to it?"  Well, I will tell you.  Michael always drove an Audi but his lease was up.  Mine doesn't end until October 2009 and since I'm climbing up in the miles (and we live 3 miles from his job) he's taking the Honda and I get to drive the new car.  Sweet deal, right?  I thought so!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS  This is my first post including a picture.  Proud of me?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3388679542949539827-3377728815582559676?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/3377728815582559676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=3377728815582559676' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/3377728815582559676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/3377728815582559676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2008/06/i-got-nnnnnew-caaaaaar.html' title='I GOT A NNNNNEW CAAAAAAR!'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFCh-TANDWI/AAAAAAAAADs/MgZZVZtSx6s/s72-c/a4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-7291976446617077330</id><published>2008-06-10T15:39:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-10T15:49:33.718-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It has been a while</title><content type='html'>It has been a pretty slow day and to be honest- I haven't felt all that witty lately...  I stole this from Teresa's blog:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1- The number of how miles I can walk in heels before I start complaining.&lt;br /&gt;2- The number of times I have gone #1 today.&lt;br /&gt;3- The number of flower girls we had in our wedding. &lt;br /&gt;4- The number of co-workers I'd like to kick at any given time in the day.&lt;br /&gt;5- The number of fingers on my hand.&lt;br /&gt;6- The number days I can listen to one playlist before I go nuts and have to make a new one.&lt;br /&gt;7- On this day, God rested.&lt;br /&gt;8- The pounds lost for my wedding.  (Also- the number of pounds gained since my wedding)&lt;br /&gt;9- The amount of interviews I scheduled for today.&lt;br /&gt;10- The number of times I checked my email from work today- but add another zero or two.&lt;br /&gt;11- The amount of open positions at my company that I need to fill.  YIKES!&lt;br /&gt;12- The number siblings my parents have combined.&lt;br /&gt;13- The number of times I rolled my eyes at a stupid resume today.&lt;br /&gt;14- I'm tired of this game....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3388679542949539827-7291976446617077330?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/7291976446617077330/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=7291976446617077330' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/7291976446617077330'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/7291976446617077330'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2008/06/it-has-been-while.html' title='It has been a while'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-1812614343602130326</id><published>2008-05-31T14:48:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-02T10:07:03.207-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Things that annoy others on the web</title><content type='html'>I read once that using excessive emoticons really bugs people.  I am so guilty of it.  But honestly- you can't hear someone's tone or catch a joke as quickly on the internet.  Emoticons just really convey the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;emotion&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's my deep thought for the day...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3388679542949539827-1812614343602130326?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/1812614343602130326/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=1812614343602130326' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/1812614343602130326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/1812614343602130326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2008/05/things-that-annoy-other-on-web.html' title='Things that annoy others on the web'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-4570162384702201114</id><published>2008-05-30T14:34:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-30T14:34:02.581-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Go figure</title><content type='html'>Some people are harder to get a hold of than the Pope.  Remember how you asked me that super important question with such urgency?  How am I supposed to tell you the answer if you are completely inaccessible?!?  It gets ridiculous.  I can only call and email you and your assistant so many times before I just give up.  You know where I sit.  Come find me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3388679542949539827-4570162384702201114?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/4570162384702201114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=4570162384702201114' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/4570162384702201114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/4570162384702201114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2008/05/go-figure.html' title='Go figure'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-9199056739468988037</id><published>2008-05-29T14:23:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-29T14:34:44.240-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm dumb....</title><content type='html'>I over-served myself last night...  that was bad idea #1.  I don't know why I do this to myself...  it's a wonder I  can function at all today and honestly, I feel fine now.  So I'm sitting on my back porch with a friend and a bucket full of booze and we're having a good time when she reminds me that it's a "school night" and she needs to go home and go to bed.  WHAT?  Why?  I don't know why I insist on going balls to the wall after a few cocktails.  She leaves.  The smart and logical next step would be to join my husband and go to sleep like the rest of the world.  Like a grown up.  But no...  I start calling people.  Bad idea #2.  "Hey Little Brother.  Enjoying your summer?  What are you up to?  Yes.....  I have been drinking.  Am I on speaker phone?"  Had enough?  Oh no- "Hi, Mom!  Just calling to say HI!"  We talk for about 40 minutes.  Time for bed?  Nope!  Because I know that I will want to sleep as long as I can in the morning I decide to take a quick shower.  And shave.  It seemed like a good idea at the time!  After I dropped my razor 8 times I realized- that was a bad idea too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3388679542949539827-9199056739468988037?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/9199056739468988037/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=9199056739468988037' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/9199056739468988037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/9199056739468988037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2008/05/im-dumb.html' title='I&apos;m dumb....'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388679542949539827.post-5410418588176313222</id><published>2008-05-27T16:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-27T16:18:48.382-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Pamela the Non-Blogger has a blog!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Can anyone hear me?  (I thought about doing that "Testing... 1...2...3..."  but I figured that's been done before.  Many times.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I don't know what  I'm doing here.  Bare with me!  I'll get the hang of it.  You'll see. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span class="348291021-27052008"&gt;Coming up with a name was a bit difficult for me.   I read all the tips.  Who is your audience?  What is the overall mood of your  blog?  I have no idea and that's ok.  I figured I can use this kind of as my  on-line journal.  Sort of like Doogie Howser meets Carrie Bradshaw.  Except  without all the geniusness.  And minus the string of boyfriends.  This is going  to be interesting.  At least for me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="348291021-27052008"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-size:100%;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3388679542949539827-5410418588176313222?l=thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/feeds/5410418588176313222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3388679542949539827&amp;postID=5410418588176313222' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/5410418588176313222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3388679542949539827/posts/default/5410418588176313222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisgirltalksalot.blogspot.com/2008/05/pamela-non-blogger-has-blog.html' title='Pamela the Non-Blogger has a blog!'/><author><name>Pamela</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_34rXp5rF9pE/SFbe615APKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/0Aj7S4CWbdU/S220/lh449.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
