<?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-22902144</id><updated>2012-02-16T08:03:21.765-05:00</updated><title type='text'>30 rantings</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>83</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-2597541571696955872</id><published>2009-01-05T22:17:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-05T22:24:47.994-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's been two years?!</title><content type='html'>I was just taking a walk down memory lane and painfully re-living the 50 day countdown that was on my blog in early 2007. Living with Esther had become quite excrutiating, and we were counting down the days of when she'd be leaving us and going to basic training for the Air Force. Now it's been almost exactly two years since then, and now I am starting another painful countdown. Esther is deploying to middle east for the first time. Needless to say, she's done a lot of growing up since then. She's really made the best out of the Air Force that she can, met a great guy, gotten married, and dare I say... become a real adult? All the sudden, she's one of the sweetest people I know, caring, giving, and still funny as all get out. She's making a great effort at being married, being a good wife, being a good airman. I'm really proud of how far she's come and who she's turned into. And I'm gonna miss the hell out of her while she's gone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-2597541571696955872?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/2597541571696955872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=2597541571696955872' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/2597541571696955872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/2597541571696955872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2009/01/its-been-two-years.html' title='It&apos;s been two years?!'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-4197441143382868721</id><published>2008-12-31T21:37:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-31T21:52:28.483-05:00</updated><title type='text'>New Year's Eve... the end of 2008</title><content type='html'>Despite the worldwide panic behind the "economic turndown", the year ended pretty well for the house o' Beveridge.  And despite a crazy Christmas trip to VA that resulted in less than 24 hours actually spent in that state, I was happy to be able to spend time with Esther and Derek and my favorite boys.  I don't want to go into too much detail about the trip, but one highlight was launching our suitcase out of the back of the truck in Sumter, SC.  We didn't miss the luggage until we got home.  Luckily, our clothes were strewn all over the street in front of Esther's neighborhood, so she was able to retrieve most of them.  Thanks, E!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So tonight is New Year's Eve.  Gone are my party days.  I am ringing in the New Year with a near-beer and putting some flair on my FB corkboard.  Living large, I know!  I also drove to the Kroger in my robe and pajamas and waited in the car while Charlie ran in and rented a movie.  Then we came back home, and he made fried oreos for a treat.  Later the boys will be setting off some bottle rockets which will inevitably end up in my neighbor's yard, who already hates us for similar behaviors.  The point of all this?  I guess that despite having what some would consider to be an incredibly lame New Year's Eve... I am happy as a clam.  Having a relaxing evening at home (and at Kroger) in my jammies, hanging out with my homies, letting them do what they do best... I only hope that 2009 is just as great!  Much love and prosperity to all my peeps out there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-4197441143382868721?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/4197441143382868721/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=4197441143382868721' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/4197441143382868721'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/4197441143382868721'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2008/12/new-years-eve-end-of-2008.html' title='New Year&apos;s Eve... the end of 2008'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-9178414944824523133</id><published>2008-11-19T18:52:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T18:54:17.234-05:00</updated><title type='text'>a typical Wednesday night at the dinner table</title><content type='html'>Notice that there are no girls in this picture?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/SSSnDllDL6I/AAAAAAAAAJM/_KtLOqFAsm8/s1600-h/IMG_1062.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270521143999279010" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 104px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/SSSnDllDL6I/AAAAAAAAAJM/_KtLOqFAsm8/s200/IMG_1062.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-9178414944824523133?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/9178414944824523133/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=9178414944824523133' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/9178414944824523133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/9178414944824523133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2008/11/typical-wednesday-night-at-dinner-table.html' title='a typical Wednesday night at the dinner table'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/SSSnDllDL6I/AAAAAAAAAJM/_KtLOqFAsm8/s72-c/IMG_1062.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-3136017994454836381</id><published>2008-11-16T10:07:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-16T10:16:03.933-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Wrapping</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/SSA48-Ll3WI/AAAAAAAAAJE/4yPvynTU5dY/s1600-h/IMG_1055.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269274184158403938" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/SSA48-Ll3WI/AAAAAAAAAJE/4yPvynTU5dY/s200/IMG_1055.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Okay, so I didn't have a close relationship with my mom. I often feel like I got short-changed when it comes to things that she should've taught me, other than how to drink a beer more slowly. But one thing she did share with me was the fun of wrapping gifts. She had worked in a bookstore as a college student, often being assigned to wrap all the Christmas presents. And she took that job very seriously. Attention to detail, that was her thing. So I've combined that along with another tradition that I picked up from Mayson, and that is making wrapping paper out of brown packing paper for a very home-grown feel. And here's the result, going with me to a baby shower this afternoon...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-3136017994454836381?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/3136017994454836381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=3136017994454836381' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/3136017994454836381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/3136017994454836381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2008/11/wrapping.html' title='Wrapping'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/SSA48-Ll3WI/AAAAAAAAAJE/4yPvynTU5dY/s72-c/IMG_1055.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-1883781104348688531</id><published>2008-10-23T21:03:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-23T21:13:02.439-05:00</updated><title type='text'>rude awakening</title><content type='html'>It's quite a rude awakening when a kid blasts into your room at 6:00 a.m. to let you know that the smoke alarm is about to go off at any second.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other night I was making a list of sofas that I was comparing, to go in the fish room. My list had such weird names as paradox cocoa, improv mocha and cindy crawford rochester. I stepped into the bathroom for a few minutes to get ready for bed, only to notice when I came out that my list had mysteriously grown. Now on the list are also palindrome skeezy and delightful phart panz?!? I had such a giggle attack that I couldn't go to sleep. Thank God I married someone with the same sense of humor that plagues me.&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/SQEvDhFxlFI/AAAAAAAAAIk/yRhd0QrjdwM/s1600-h/improv+mocha.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260537577214153810" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/SQEvDhFxlFI/AAAAAAAAAIk/yRhd0QrjdwM/s200/improv+mocha.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-1883781104348688531?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/1883781104348688531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=1883781104348688531' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/1883781104348688531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/1883781104348688531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2008/10/rude-awakening.html' title='rude awakening'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/SQEvDhFxlFI/AAAAAAAAAIk/yRhd0QrjdwM/s72-c/improv+mocha.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-8131169478082277643</id><published>2008-10-14T19:14:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-29T14:04:44.412-05:00</updated><title type='text'>do you canoe?</title><content type='html'>What a nice day back to work after my little vacation... we went on a retreat as a nice cap on the end of a stressful recruiting year. We spent the morning playing silly games which were, well, silly... but fun! And then after lunch, we went on a canoe trip. I didn't think I'd like it as much as I did. I paddled with Katie, whom I've never gotten to know very well. But we really had a nice time, and I think we have more in common than I originally believed. What a fun day, but now my shoulders hurt!!! Please someone give me a pill.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-8131169478082277643?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/8131169478082277643/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=8131169478082277643' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/8131169478082277643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/8131169478082277643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2008/10/do-you-canoe.html' title='do you canoe?'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-4163767095633818832</id><published>2008-10-14T19:09:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-29T14:07:12.245-05:00</updated><title type='text'>20th year reunion!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Well, I survived. My 20th high school reunion was this past Saturday. I was nervous. I was stressed. (I planned the event.) And it turned out great, despite myself. I think everyone had a good time. It was great to see everyone again, and I must say, most of my classmates have aged quite well. I'll post some pictures here soon.&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/SQi0IdLqULI/AAAAAAAAAIs/1JWduW7CbsU/s1600-h/kim.gregg.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262654221947916466" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/SQi0IdLqULI/AAAAAAAAAIs/1JWduW7CbsU/s200/kim.gregg.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/SQi0IulspkI/AAAAAAAAAI0/bf_ElaTotw0/s1600-h/mandy.bryan.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262654226620524098" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/SQi0IulspkI/AAAAAAAAAI0/bf_ElaTotw0/s200/mandy.bryan.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/SQi0JQFkzOI/AAAAAAAAAI8/bIcJ1aBcQOk/s1600-h/the+boys.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262654235612597474" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/SQi0JQFkzOI/AAAAAAAAAI8/bIcJ1aBcQOk/s200/the+boys.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-4163767095633818832?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/4163767095633818832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=4163767095633818832' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/4163767095633818832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/4163767095633818832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2008/10/20th-year-reunion.html' title='20th year reunion!'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/SQi0IdLqULI/AAAAAAAAAIs/1JWduW7CbsU/s72-c/kim.gregg.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-4808064815235386728</id><published>2008-10-06T08:04:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-06T08:24:09.478-05:00</updated><title type='text'>adventurin'</title><content type='html'>I'm sore. Stevie and I went adventurin yesterday in the woods and then I spent a good hour stooped over a bed of weeds. I think I'm just getting too old. Stevie was a good sport, though... especially when he ended up in the creek and almost lost a shoe. I gotta say, I can't wait until we move to the new neighborhood and have all that fun in our back yard. Here's the first finished house in the area... I could definitely live here! &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/SOoRaYjSBCI/AAAAAAAAAIc/bJdh46aU3qg/s1600-h/hickory+house.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254031060245808162" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/SOoRaYjSBCI/AAAAAAAAAIc/bJdh46aU3qg/s200/hickory+house.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/SOoPCj_VmjI/AAAAAAAAAIU/9AvHqlTIKLU/s1600-h/hickory+house.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-4808064815235386728?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/4808064815235386728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=4808064815235386728' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/4808064815235386728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/4808064815235386728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2008/10/adventurin.html' title='adventurin&apos;'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/SOoRaYjSBCI/AAAAAAAAAIc/bJdh46aU3qg/s72-c/hickory+house.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-747454621598970988</id><published>2008-09-30T21:06:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-29T14:01:50.390-05:00</updated><title type='text'>growing up</title><content type='html'>Sammy has always seemed young, played the part of the "baby" of the family. He's smaller than other kids his age. He's not terribly mature. But tonight, all the sudden, he seemed older to me. Maybe it was because he was wearing a tie. Maybe it was because I could tell he had a crush on girl. Or maybe he's just growing up. Anyway, I'm awfully proud of him and was so excited for him to be inducted into the Beta Club! &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/SOLcrX50SII/AAAAAAAAAIE/BpWliUcVULk/s1600-h/Azores+201.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252002753176422530" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/SOLcrX50SII/AAAAAAAAAIE/BpWliUcVULk/s200/Azores+201.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/SOLcrlSI_4I/AAAAAAAAAIM/htGdQ22Hr8U/s1600-h/IMG_0972.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252002756768104322" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/SOLcrlSI_4I/AAAAAAAAAIM/htGdQ22Hr8U/s200/IMG_0972.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-747454621598970988?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/747454621598970988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=747454621598970988' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/747454621598970988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/747454621598970988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2008/09/growing-up.html' title='growing up'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/SOLcrX50SII/AAAAAAAAAIE/BpWliUcVULk/s72-c/Azores+201.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-4928251552381599680</id><published>2008-09-26T13:05:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-26T13:16:08.187-05:00</updated><title type='text'>So I suck at blogging...</title><content type='html'>so much so that I haven't posted in almost a full year. I guess the fact that my job has pretty much ruled my waking hours, and much of the sleeping ones, as well, has kept me away from this place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Besides that whole work thing and all the other crazy things that have happened in the past year, it's almost time for my 20th year high school reunion, and I'm sort of the main organizer of it. Correction, the only. Why did I sign on for this? For fun moments like this, when I run across news of my old high school boyfriend in a predicament like this: &lt;a href="http://www.savannahnow.com/node/570719"&gt;http://www.savannahnow.com/node/570719&lt;/a&gt;, and to see that 1. he has not aged well, at all, and 2. he lives in my friggin' back yard! I move four states away, and I still can't shake him. Holy cow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-4928251552381599680?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/4928251552381599680/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=4928251552381599680' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/4928251552381599680'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/4928251552381599680'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2008/09/so-i-suck-at-blogging.html' title='So I suck at blogging...'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-3500663207870343924</id><published>2007-10-15T20:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-15T20:46:50.142-05:00</updated><title type='text'>should i be worried...</title><content type='html'>when i come home to find out the young mad scientist was experimenting with combustibles and singed his hair and forehead?!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-3500663207870343924?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/3500663207870343924/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=3500663207870343924' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/3500663207870343924'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/3500663207870343924'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2007/10/should-i-be-worried.html' title='should i be worried...'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-8838274874898440864</id><published>2007-09-16T21:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-16T21:45:42.191-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm officially cool!</title><content type='html'>I had to take the boys shoe-shopping today for dress shoes.  Charlie has a "semi-formal" event at school, being inducted into the Beta Club honor society.  Go Bug!!!  Anyway, while I was having a personal dilemma, trying to justify spending $60 on a pair of Doc Martin's that I know he'll only wear like three times before his feet grow, rather than spending $35 on a similar pair of Skechers, (how can you deny the coolness of buying Doc Martin's for your kid?!) my phone rang.  "A woo-ooo... a woo-ooo," goes my phone, singing out one of my favorite John Mayer songs.  The shoe sales clerk comes running up... "That was John Mayer!  Oh man, your mom is sooo cool!".  Sam says even louder, "Yeah, we know!"  That was the best!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-8838274874898440864?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/8838274874898440864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=8838274874898440864' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/8838274874898440864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/8838274874898440864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2007/09/im-officially-cool.html' title='I&apos;m officially cool!'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-6152150281884043423</id><published>2007-08-01T20:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-01T20:10:21.330-05:00</updated><title type='text'>photo shoot</title><content type='html'>So I've been washing and waxing my car like crazy this week... because the Red Rocket is going to be in a photo shoot tomorrow afternoon!  Yes, a friend of mine asked if she could "borrow" my car as a backdrop for pics of her puppy for some contest.  Seems like small potatoes, but she's got a professional photographer and everything!  My 15 seconds of fame have arrived!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-6152150281884043423?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/6152150281884043423/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=6152150281884043423' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/6152150281884043423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/6152150281884043423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2007/08/photo-shoot.html' title='photo shoot'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-5714984301901040211</id><published>2007-07-22T20:57:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-22T21:01:02.811-05:00</updated><title type='text'>mother of ninjas</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RqQLm_o2GYI/AAAAAAAAAFc/3yVStZJvxVE/s1600-h/IMG_0696.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090206243381188994" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RqQLm_o2GYI/AAAAAAAAAFc/3yVStZJvxVE/s200/IMG_0696.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yes, this is what I do on Sunday nights... corral a small group of ninjas for photo ops... then try to get them in bed so they're well-rested for golf in the morning.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-5714984301901040211?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/5714984301901040211/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=5714984301901040211' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/5714984301901040211'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/5714984301901040211'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2007/07/mother-of-ninjas.html' title='mother of ninjas'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RqQLm_o2GYI/AAAAAAAAAFc/3yVStZJvxVE/s72-c/IMG_0696.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-784402520951730211</id><published>2007-07-18T19:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-18T19:59:39.010-05:00</updated><title type='text'>tooting my own horn</title><content type='html'>I don't like to talk about work much on here.  But I feel compelled to share... when I got back from my vacation, I learned that I'd be getting a promotion as part of our annual review and restructure process.  I wasn't quite sure if it would really happen.  You know how it goes, I don't believe it until I see it.  Well, last week while I was up in Atlanta, they made the announcement to the entire department via video-conference.  Yes, that's me... Director of Undergraduate Admission.  Sounds fancy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-784402520951730211?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/784402520951730211/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=784402520951730211' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/784402520951730211'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/784402520951730211'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2007/07/tooting-my-own-horn.html' title='tooting my own horn'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-7910066434165605968</id><published>2007-07-05T19:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-05T20:01:46.736-05:00</updated><title type='text'>back from vacation, the pics...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Ro2QJNpIGVI/AAAAAAAAAEM/Eu0UzqGY3uA/s1600-h/IMG_0506.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083878042326538578" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Ro2QJNpIGVI/AAAAAAAAAEM/Eu0UzqGY3uA/s200/IMG_0506.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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;waiting patiently for the ceremony to begin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Ro2S8NpIGeI/AAAAAAAAAFU/fSJc4leZkIw/s1600-h/IMG_0520.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083881117523122658" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Ro2S8NpIGeI/AAAAAAAAAFU/fSJc4leZkIw/s200/IMG_0520.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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;the oath&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Ro2QJ9pIGXI/AAAAAAAAAEc/vHM2YWHCeWI/s1600-h/IMG_0539.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083878055211440498" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Ro2QJ9pIGXI/AAAAAAAAAEc/vHM2YWHCeWI/s200/IMG_0539.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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;adjusting the ribbons&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Ro2RItpIGZI/AAAAAAAAAEs/CWgwA6OrInw/s1600-h/IMG_0609.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083879133248231826" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Ro2RItpIGZI/AAAAAAAAAEs/CWgwA6OrInw/s200/IMG_0609.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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;mother of all bombs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Ro2RIdpIGYI/AAAAAAAAAEk/ncz9EErO4rw/s1600-h/IMG_0608.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083879128953264514" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Ro2RIdpIGYI/AAAAAAAAAEk/ncz9EErO4rw/s200/IMG_0608.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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;sink hole&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Ro2RJNpIGaI/AAAAAAAAAE0/pXVxLtJ6_r8/s1600-h/IMG_0644.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083879141838166434" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Ro2RJNpIGaI/AAAAAAAAAE0/pXVxLtJ6_r8/s200/IMG_0644.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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;tether ball under the boardwalk&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Ro2RJdpIGbI/AAAAAAAAAE8/oE0bVhCGsA0/s1600-h/IMG_0648.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083879146133133746" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Ro2RJdpIGbI/AAAAAAAAAE8/oE0bVhCGsA0/s200/IMG_0648.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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;shark attack&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Ro2Rs9pIGcI/AAAAAAAAAFE/BwPmKIuCriQ/s1600-h/IMG_0664.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083879756018489794" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Ro2Rs9pIGcI/AAAAAAAAAFE/BwPmKIuCriQ/s200/IMG_0664.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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;perfect day at the beach&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Ro2RtdpIGdI/AAAAAAAAAFM/LLl7upHrVec/s1600-h/IMG_0672.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083879764608424402" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Ro2RtdpIGdI/AAAAAAAAAFM/LLl7upHrVec/s200/IMG_0672.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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;until the sunburn&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-7910066434165605968?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/7910066434165605968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=7910066434165605968' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/7910066434165605968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/7910066434165605968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2007/07/back-from-vacation-pics.html' title='back from vacation, the pics...'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Ro2QJNpIGVI/AAAAAAAAAEM/Eu0UzqGY3uA/s72-c/IMG_0506.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-8486510725713111259</id><published>2007-06-04T19:30:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-18T19:52:28.841-05:00</updated><title type='text'>House pics</title><content type='html'>Here are some recent pics, taken at 8 o'clock this evening. I had to do the house and yard in parts, as it's a pretty wide area. Outside pics then some of the inside. Please keep in mind... it's a work in progress! Oh, and please forgive me, I'm having a hard time arranging this page. &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RmS2b3JmZbI/AAAAAAAAAD0/00Vl0JDPrk4/s1600-h/IMG_0460.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RmS2b3JmZbI/AAAAAAAAAD0/00Vl0JDPrk4/s1600-h/IMG_0460.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5072379670102959538" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RmS2b3JmZbI/AAAAAAAAAD0/00Vl0JDPrk4/s200/IMG_0460.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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;left side of yard&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RmSw0nJmZPI/AAAAAAAAACU/ewsB0mxwwpw/s1600-h/IMG_0465.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5072373498234954994" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RmSw0nJmZPI/AAAAAAAAACU/ewsB0mxwwpw/s200/IMG_0465.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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;left side of house&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RmSw1HJmZQI/AAAAAAAAACc/UY8hU3zqQtY/s1600-h/IMG_0467.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5072373506824889602" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RmSw1HJmZQI/AAAAAAAAACc/UY8hU3zqQtY/s200/IMG_0467.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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;right side of house&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RmSzWHJmZVI/AAAAAAAAADE/oaV5eoJcPZo/s1600-h/IMG_0472.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5072376272783828306" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RmSzWHJmZVI/AAAAAAAAADE/oaV5eoJcPZo/s200/IMG_0472.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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;br /&gt;front garden close-up, note sky pencils&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RmS5T3JmZcI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Dec3ccWzdkM/s1600-h/IMG_0468.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5072382831198889410" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RmS5T3JmZcI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Dec3ccWzdkM/s200/IMG_0468.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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;high-five palm tree&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RmSyL3JmZSI/AAAAAAAAACs/SM5HFliAUHw/s1600-h/IMG_0473.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5072374997178541346" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RmSyL3JmZSI/AAAAAAAAACs/SM5HFliAUHw/s200/IMG_0473.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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;MINI in the driveway&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RmS7H3JmZdI/AAAAAAAAAEE/keomTbOL108/s1600-h/IMG_0495.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5072384824063714770" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RmS7H3JmZdI/AAAAAAAAAEE/keomTbOL108/s200/IMG_0495.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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;da boyz in the living room&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RmSyMHJmZTI/AAAAAAAAAC0/IskTvHmy0xA/s1600-h/IMG_0477.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5072375001473508658" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RmSyMHJmZTI/AAAAAAAAAC0/IskTvHmy0xA/s200/IMG_0477.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RmSyMHJmZTI/AAAAAAAAAC0/IskTvHmy0xA/s1600-h/IMG_0477.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;fireplace shot&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RmSzWXJmZWI/AAAAAAAAADM/BoufhEom0-I/s1600-h/IMG_0478.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5072376277078795618" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RmSzWXJmZWI/AAAAAAAAADM/BoufhEom0-I/s200/IMG_0478.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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;br /&gt;foyer and hallway to bedrooms&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RmSzxHJmZZI/AAAAAAAAADk/dhBQWkHOnm0/s1600-h/IMG_0496.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5072376736640296338" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RmSzxHJmZZI/AAAAAAAAADk/dhBQWkHOnm0/s200/IMG_0496.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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;dining room&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RmSyMnJmZUI/AAAAAAAAAC8/WGe-AQIwTOo/s1600-h/IMG_0479.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5072375010063443266" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RmSyMnJmZUI/AAAAAAAAAC8/WGe-AQIwTOo/s200/IMG_0479.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RmSyMnJmZUI/AAAAAAAAAC8/WGe-AQIwTOo/s1600-h/IMG_0479.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the kitchen... much work still to be done in here!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RmSzWnJmZXI/AAAAAAAAADU/EK_bB95mnGI/s1600-h/IMG_0492.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5072376281373762930" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RmSzWnJmZXI/AAAAAAAAADU/EK_bB95mnGI/s200/IMG_0492.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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;the fish room (and a 120 lb. lab!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RmSzW3JmZYI/AAAAAAAAADc/fgQTYszkW-U/s1600-h/IMG_0488.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5072376285668730242" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RmSzW3JmZYI/AAAAAAAAADc/fgQTYszkW-U/s200/IMG_0488.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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;the sunroom&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-8486510725713111259?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/8486510725713111259/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=8486510725713111259' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/8486510725713111259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/8486510725713111259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2007/06/outside-house-pics.html' title='House pics'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RmS2b3JmZbI/AAAAAAAAAD0/00Vl0JDPrk4/s72-c/IMG_0460.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-7344925528019453514</id><published>2007-06-04T19:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-04T19:33:54.652-05:00</updated><title type='text'>what the he*#?!</title><content type='html'>Imagine our surprise last night as we were on our nightly walk and noticed this up in one of our oak trees. We immediately knew that Charlie was to blame...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RmSvU3JmZNI/AAAAAAAAACE/n9qU6sXVkpQ/s1600-h/IMG_0458.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5072371853262480594" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RmSvU3JmZNI/AAAAAAAAACE/n9qU6sXVkpQ/s200/IMG_0458.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RmSvU3JmZNI/AAAAAAAAACE/n9qU6sXVkpQ/s1600-h/IMG_0458.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-7344925528019453514?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/7344925528019453514/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=7344925528019453514' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/7344925528019453514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/7344925528019453514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2007/06/what-he.html' title='what the he*#?!'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RmSvU3JmZNI/AAAAAAAAACE/n9qU6sXVkpQ/s72-c/IMG_0458.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-6399976479245848472</id><published>2007-06-03T20:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-03T20:22:44.301-05:00</updated><title type='text'>house busters</title><content type='html'>Holy cow, I am so tired right now.  On Saturday Stevie suggested that we do an indoor project, since Tropical Storm Barry was blowing through and it was too yucky outside to dig in the garden.  So, we trekked to Walmart to get some paint.  I don't even remember what we were going to paint at first.  But there I was, looking at color chips, when dude comes over all excited, "Hey, look what we can do!"  He had found some mis-matched paint at 50% off, and decided it would be a good idea to buy like 4 gallons and mix them all together and paint the living room and dining room with our new "custom color".  I wasn't too keen on the idea, since we spend most of our time in there, I don't want to play crap-shoot with the color.  But there I stood with about 6 different color chips, realizing that anyone of them would look good in there, and the colors he had chosen from the mis-match paint were all in the same family, so I gave in.  We came home, moved all the furniture to the middle of the room, and went to town.  We worked so fast, we thought it would be a good idea to continue painting down the hallway.  Then today, he kept painting, this time the sunroom.  But through all this "home improvement" I've discovered something about myself.  The more I like something, the more I want to clean it.  (That would explain why my car is always immaculately clean.)  The house looks so nice right now, with the new wood floors and fresh paint, I don't want anyone to get it dirty.  Therefore, my hands are red, dry and cracking right now, as I have had a hard time relinquishing my rag and Fabuloso.  Stevie finally had to take me for a walk after dinner, to get me to stop cleaning.  Okay, gotta go... I hear the boys messing up the kitchen. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and Steve, I promise, current house pics this week.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-6399976479245848472?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/6399976479245848472/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=6399976479245848472' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/6399976479245848472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/6399976479245848472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2007/06/house-busters.html' title='house busters'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-9198891628559844150</id><published>2007-05-29T19:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-29T19:46:34.929-05:00</updated><title type='text'>awkward</title><content type='html'>I have a friend.  A male.  A coworker.  I have respect for him because: 1. he's smart 2. he's funny 3. he's a good dad and seemingly a good husband.  However, I'm starting to feel weird around him.  He seems to be going out of his way to have lunches together, to find common interests, stuff to talk about, to get into my beeswax, to flirt?  I can't tell exactly, because he's rather introverted.  At first I didn't think anything of it, but now it's getting awkward.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-9198891628559844150?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/9198891628559844150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=9198891628559844150' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/9198891628559844150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/9198891628559844150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2007/05/awkward.html' title='awkward'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-5808714425489306532</id><published>2007-05-29T18:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-29T19:49:05.259-05:00</updated><title type='text'>a music review</title><content type='html'>I don't often assert my musical preferences on people. I mean, yes, I have them, but music is so subjective, why should you listen to what I have to say about it? However, there's an album that I've been waiting for for quite some time, and it was released last Tuesday. Needless to say, I ran over to Target the first chance I got (last Saturday), and Sammy and I have been bouncing around to these fine tunes ever since. Yes, people, I still buy cd's, even though I'm quite proficient at downloading music and I do own an ipod. There's just something so tangible and satisfying to me about having the disk case with the artwork and lyrics. Anyway, here's a snippet from the album's review on Amazon.com, "Sometimes it's O.K.--even important--to put aside your reluctance to embrace artists who make teenage girls scream. It happened in 2006, when Justin Timberlake scraped the sludge off pop and left something shiny behind, and it's happening again in 2007..." I couldn't agree more. I first heard this band a few years ago in concert before I ever heard them on the radio. They just happened to be opening up for another one of my all time favorites, &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/1600/john_mayer.jpg"&gt;John Mayer&lt;/a&gt;, and I was more than pleasantly surprised at their performance. Hell, even Stevie liked them! To me, they embody the perfect blend of pop, funk, dance, and sexy, yes, ala JT. I love it. Who is it? you keep asking... it's Maroon 5, with their new album&lt;em&gt; It won't be soon before long&lt;/em&gt;. Last week after they performed their new single, &lt;em&gt;Makes me wonder&lt;/em&gt; on American Idol, I let Marge borrow their first cd, &lt;em&gt;Songs about Jane&lt;/em&gt; for the day. I love seeing a 60 year old lady grooving at her desk all day. Anyway, notable songs on the new cd are tracks 2, 3, 6, 7, 9 and 10. As the reviewer on Amazon said, &lt;em&gt;Makes me wonder &lt;/em&gt;is "catchier than fire". So true. And track 3 &lt;em&gt;Little of your time&lt;/em&gt; makes you boogy wherever you are. I suspect that I left a whole interstate full of people laughing this afternoon as I could not quit dancing to it while speeding down I-95. So, if you like pop music, dance, or "sexy", go download it, buy it, whatever, just give it a go, you won't be sorry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-5808714425489306532?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/5808714425489306532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=5808714425489306532' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/5808714425489306532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/5808714425489306532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2007/05/music-review.html' title='a music review'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-7264764456089605726</id><published>2007-05-28T19:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-28T20:00:36.960-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Memorial Day</title><content type='html'>Well, I'm sure you all have lovely tales of Memorial Day involving cook-outs and days at the beach. Me? I slaved away at work, as usual. So sad, right? But really, it wasn't that bad. The nice thing? No meter maids on holidays, so I parked in a 30 minute zone ALL DAY LONG, right in front of the building, without paying the meter. Dang, I shoulda taken a picture of my car with the expired meter, and taped it to my windshield for tomorrow! That woulda been too cool! I swear those little Interceptors just circle my car like vultures, waiting for the meter to expire. The other cool things about working on Memorial Day? No traffic, and a quiet day at work. I just answered questions and reviewed files all day. Easy! So when I say that I "slaved away" at work today, well that was a gross overstatement. And I sat out in the square for well-over my hour lunch break, chatting with Courtney about antique books and rubber cars. There's one bench in Madison Square that is now very sunny because one of the oak trees fell down in a wind storm a couple months ago. If I had stayed out any longer, I would've needed sunscreen. Here's the square, before the tree blew down. Now the tree in the left foreground is gone, and I have a new favorite hot spot. &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt5VbjgBGI/AAAAAAAAABk/OasB0qheESc/s1600-h/madison+square.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5069779214616495202" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt5VbjgBGI/AAAAAAAAABk/OasB0qheESc/s200/madison+square.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But Happy Memorial Day. Please remember those troops that have laid down their lives for our freedom, and please pray for those that are protecting our freedom this very minute. Stay safe, Scotty!!! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-7264764456089605726?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/7264764456089605726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=7264764456089605726' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/7264764456089605726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/7264764456089605726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2007/05/memorial-day.html' title='Memorial Day'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt5VbjgBGI/AAAAAAAAABk/OasB0qheESc/s72-c/madison+square.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-8780677550951027047</id><published>2007-05-14T21:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-14T21:37:58.913-05:00</updated><title type='text'>belated Mother's Day report</title><content type='html'>Well, yesterday was Mother's Day.  It wasn't the typical fanfare, but I was glad for it.  A nice quiet day.  Peaceful.  Charlie got up and made breakfast, crepes.  He's twelve for God sake, and he's making crepes!!!  Steve came home early from work and took me out to pick out my Mother's Day foliage.  Traditionally, if I don't receive some electronic gadget, then I get a special plant/shrubbery.  So this year Stevie bought me a trellis and two clematis for it.  I also got two beautiful red lantana to go in my hangy baskets out front.  But perhaps better than any of those presents was something I did with Sammy.  I remembered the gift that we had gotten him for Christmas, the "hit away", and I finally figured out how to set it up.  He stayed outside for about 30 minutes, practicing.  Then today, again, he practiced batting before his game.  And this evening, I got the best present... he had his best game ever!  Three at-bats, he got zero outs.  The first up he hit a text-book bunt right down the third base line.  The second and third ups he hit SOLID hits to right/center field, getting on base each time!!!  I tell ya, the look on his face and the confidence that he gained... that was the best Mother's Day present EVER!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-8780677550951027047?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/8780677550951027047/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=8780677550951027047' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/8780677550951027047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/8780677550951027047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2007/05/belated-mothers-day-report.html' title='belated Mother&apos;s Day report'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-4414983789144921409</id><published>2007-05-06T21:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-06T21:37:38.853-05:00</updated><title type='text'>a sigh of relief</title><content type='html'>The countdown is over and she is gone for six months.  I can finally breathe.  I dropped her off at the recruiter's office at 8:00am, and I sang all the way home.  In those last few minutes, I actually felt love for her, and hope.  It is a new beginning.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-4414983789144921409?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/4414983789144921409/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=4414983789144921409' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/4414983789144921409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/4414983789144921409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2007/05/sigh-of-relief.html' title='a sigh of relief'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-7915683913380189442</id><published>2007-05-04T18:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-04T18:47:32.626-05:00</updated><title type='text'>t minus two!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Two days left!!!! This is a very good thing. I can hardly face her today, ever since I saw the latest picture on her MySpace. She leaves very little to the imagination. I was so pissed when I saw it, I could couldn't get anymore work done for the rest of the day. I think I'm going to set her computer on fire. That would be cool. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RjvGAT9vPTI/AAAAAAAAABM/bn8IteXkTh0/s1600-h/burning-ibook.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5060856314942405938" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RjvGAT9vPTI/AAAAAAAAABM/bn8IteXkTh0/s200/burning-ibook.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-7915683913380189442?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/7915683913380189442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=7915683913380189442' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/7915683913380189442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/7915683913380189442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2007/05/t-minus-two.html' title='t minus two!'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RjvGAT9vPTI/AAAAAAAAABM/bn8IteXkTh0/s72-c/burning-ibook.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-7299877836568066764</id><published>2007-04-29T21:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-28T19:35:26.728-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sky pencil!!!</title><content type='html'>I'm not sure what day we are at in the countdown... could be 9, could be 7. According to her myspace, she is leaving on the 6th, two days earlier than I expected. I'm okay with that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, today we went to the Home Depot, and I finally got my dream shrubbery. That's right, the wonderful SKY PENCIL... two of them! I don't know why I have wanted one so bad. Maybe it's because of the ease in which I will be able to prune them, and their stately nature. I will feed them, and love them, and watch them grow. And I'm really not sure why I always have to sing it out... sky penciiiiiillllll....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt1GLjgBFI/AAAAAAAAABc/_3lyLRYpmDw/s1600-h/IMG_0455.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5069774554576979026" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt1GLjgBFI/AAAAAAAAABc/_3lyLRYpmDw/s200/IMG_0455.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RjaIXD9vPSI/AAAAAAAAABE/_H1r8ks8p0g/s1600-h/IMG_0446.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-7299877836568066764?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/7299877836568066764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=7299877836568066764' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/7299877836568066764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/7299877836568066764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2007/04/sky-pencil.html' title='Sky pencil!!!'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt1GLjgBFI/AAAAAAAAABc/_3lyLRYpmDw/s72-c/IMG_0455.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-6194452585367443333</id><published>2007-04-27T19:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-27T19:50:51.767-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Then and now</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RjKYkj9vPPI/AAAAAAAAAAs/KU4ce6Qy_04/s1600-h/hs+pic.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058273085387390194" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RjKYkj9vPPI/AAAAAAAAAAs/KU4ce6Qy_04/s200/hs+pic.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RjKYkj9vPPI/AAAAAAAAAAs/KU4ce6Qy_04/s1600-h/hs+pic.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;a twenty year timespan, almost... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RjKY-T9vPRI/AAAAAAAAAA8/n0myb3pQwIs/s1600-h/IMG_0417.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058273527769021714" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RjKY-T9vPRI/AAAAAAAAAA8/n0myb3pQwIs/s200/IMG_0417.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RjKYkj9vPPI/AAAAAAAAAAs/KU4ce6Qy_04/s1600-h/hs+pic.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RjKYlD9vPQI/AAAAAAAAAA0/vUvbQu8mqBM/s1600-h/IMG_0417.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;It's crazy how quickly time flies, and I know we all say that once we get "old".  But it's so weird the way certain things that you had when you were young, feelings, thoughts, etc. never seem to leave you, no matter how many years pass.  I've been talking to an old "friend" lately, and I just can't get over how it feels like nothing has really changed between us.  I mean, our relationship has changed of course, and yet it hasn't - it just still feels very comfortable, even though there has been a seventeen year time gap since we last spoke.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;BTW, today is Day 11.  So close...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-6194452585367443333?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/6194452585367443333/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=6194452585367443333' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/6194452585367443333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/6194452585367443333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2007/04/then-and-now.html' title='Then and now'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RjKYkj9vPPI/AAAAAAAAAAs/KU4ce6Qy_04/s72-c/hs+pic.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-9012337115499417003</id><published>2007-04-21T16:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-21T16:41:05.620-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 17</title><content type='html'>Apparently I'm not the only one who's fed up with her.  Once again, she didn't come home last night.  The big guy just asked me when she was leaving.  17 days.  I wonder if he'll be able to go off of his high blood pressure medicine after the source of stress has moved out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-9012337115499417003?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/9012337115499417003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=9012337115499417003' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/9012337115499417003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/9012337115499417003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2007/04/day-17.html' title='Day 17'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-114217909318550244</id><published>2007-04-16T21:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-21T16:38:17.462-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 22, Why I am so cool</title><content type='html'>10. And perhaps I will read this tomorrow and delete it all. But today, rock on!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-114217909318550244?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/114217909318550244/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=114217909318550244' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/114217909318550244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/114217909318550244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2007/04/day-22-why-i-am-so-cool.html' title='Day 22, Why I am so cool'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-223755069649967882</id><published>2007-04-13T19:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-13T20:02:08.308-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 25</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RiAkcNCg5jI/AAAAAAAAAAk/MqrDdKQnJgU/s1600-h/IMG_0346.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5053078848864839218" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RiAkcNCg5jI/AAAAAAAAAAk/MqrDdKQnJgU/s200/IMG_0346.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The week is almost over. Tomorrow is Saturday, but I have to work... one last SCAD Day before our summer hiatus. So I will take a little time tonight to play catch-up... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The trip to Chattanooga was great. It was so good to see Tonia, Big E, and their young'uns. The little guys were running around like wild, and I think it was hard on Tonia and E, but I didn't mind one little bit. It was a little weird at first, since we haven't all been together in like 7 years, but after the initial meet and greet in the parking lot, it was all just very comfortable, like a good pair of shoes. Keen shoes, my favorite. Anyhow, like I said before, our hotel was kind of in the ghetto, but really, I didn't care. I was so chill the whole time, not worrying about work, no time crunches, comfortable clothing, I could've been anywhere and I would've loved it. Well, anywhere warm. So, we went to the Tennessee aquarium, which has long been on our to do list. It was really nice. Not as good as maybe Baltimore or Tampa, but still, it was up there.  My favorite fish?  The giant puffer, of course! We went to some fun restaurants, made the regular pilgrimage to Walmart, and played card games at night. My only complaint about the trip... it was too damn short! &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RiAkbNCg5gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a3d1uOD7CQU/s1600-h/IMG_0320.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5053078831684969986" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RiAkbNCg5gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a3d1uOD7CQU/s200/IMG_0320.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RiAkbtCg5hI/AAAAAAAAAAU/uPq-XZsb-lQ/s1600-h/IMG_0323.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5053078840274904594" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RiAkbtCg5hI/AAAAAAAAAAU/uPq-XZsb-lQ/s200/IMG_0323.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RiAkb9Cg5iI/AAAAAAAAAAc/MihGJW1Nuic/s1600-h/IMG_0351.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5053078844569871906" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RiAkb9Cg5iI/AAAAAAAAAAc/MihGJW1Nuic/s200/IMG_0351.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-223755069649967882?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/223755069649967882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=223755069649967882' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/223755069649967882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/223755069649967882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2007/04/day-25.html' title='Day 25'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/RiAkcNCg5jI/AAAAAAAAAAk/MqrDdKQnJgU/s72-c/IMG_0346.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-7193810660735536347</id><published>2007-04-07T22:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-07T22:52:02.783-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 31</title><content type='html'>Oh man, today was a doozy. We realized that we had not seen her, nor had any evidence of her having been home for about 48 hours, and she was not returning our calls. We were afraid someone had abducted her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She finally called around 10:30pm and explained that she missed curfew last night, so she decided to hide out from us, rather than coming home. She told me she took a nap on the beach. Great, she's already acting like a homeless person. Stevie is going to brunch with her tomorrow, to "discuss" things.  I wonder if we will have to kick her out before the countdown is over...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-7193810660735536347?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/7193810660735536347/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=7193810660735536347' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/7193810660735536347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/7193810660735536347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2007/04/day-31.html' title='Day 31'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-3467794139933040091</id><published>2007-04-04T21:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-04T21:45:52.121-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 34</title><content type='html'>Vacation was excellent, just what I needed.  Will post details and pics soon.  Our hotel was "in the ghetto" but the actitivites/time spent were awesome and much needed!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She has deleted her MySpace page.  What gives?!  Could it be a sign of good things to come, perhaps some self-control in the age of the WWW and technology?  We'll see... Her recruiter called yesterday to check in and make sure she's not pregnant.  How in the hell am I supposed to answer that question?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad sent me some paperwork today to sign.  He writes on the post-it note..."This is for some stocks.  They will go to you when I am gone."  How exactly am I supposed to take that?!  I miss him so much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-3467794139933040091?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/3467794139933040091/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=3467794139933040091' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/3467794139933040091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/3467794139933040091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2007/04/day-34.html' title='Day 34'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-6893427480201043208</id><published>2007-03-30T21:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-30T21:21:50.036-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 39, going on vacation</title><content type='html'>We are leaving her alone this weekend, she has the house all to herself. She may not even realize she is by herself. We haven't seen or talked to her for a couple days, and she may not remember or realize that we are going to Chattanooga for a few days. Lizard will keep an eye on the house and the feeshes for us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was really dreading this trip at first, because I find it so hard to forget about work, to let it go. But I spent a couple extra hours there tonight, wrapping things up, so I could truly leave it for a couple days. You know, I try to make it a point to not really talk about work here. But that explains why my blogging has been lacking in content lately. My whole life revolves around that W word. Or shall I say that SCAD word. The past couple weeks have been really tough, too. Two rolling heads in as many weeks. It puts everyone on edge. So I'm just glad to have finished up my week and have four days of nothing to look forward to. Hello vacation!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm really looking forward to a few days of just doing whatever, and being spontaneous. No schedules, no meetings, no alarm clocks. Hanging out with friends, drinking, eating, spending time with my boys and being silly. And not having to clean the f'ing house. Please don't call me unless you're on fire. Even then, just call 911.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-6893427480201043208?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/6893427480201043208/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=6893427480201043208' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/6893427480201043208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/6893427480201043208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2007/03/day-39-going-on-vacation.html' title='Day 39, going on vacation'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-2684247468519005444</id><published>2007-03-28T18:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-28T18:19:11.475-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 41</title><content type='html'>Interesting... she was very excited today to be meeting up with her "favorite marine", a.k.a. the boy she was engaged to for three weeks.  I wonder if the ring will reappear.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-2684247468519005444?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/2684247468519005444/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=2684247468519005444' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/2684247468519005444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/2684247468519005444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2007/03/day-41.html' title='Day 41'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-5209734203433687018</id><published>2007-03-22T20:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-22T20:21:48.926-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 47</title><content type='html'>Will there be an appropriate punishment for leaving the flat iron on (AGAIN) before she ends up burning the house down? I doubt it. At least we have good homeowners insurance.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-5209734203433687018?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/5209734203433687018/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=5209734203433687018' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/5209734203433687018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/5209734203433687018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2007/03/day-47.html' title='Day 47'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-1790380758205163322</id><published>2007-03-21T20:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-21T20:56:49.563-05:00</updated><title type='text'>48 days</title><content type='html'>To _________,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do not appreciate seeing your bikini top, encrusted with a rhinestone-studded playboy bunny, while your pants are so low, that I am about to catch a peek at the tattoo that you should not have, and that I wish to not know about. Please wear appropriate clothing at all times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you.&lt;br /&gt;mom&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-1790380758205163322?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/1790380758205163322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=1790380758205163322' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/1790380758205163322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/1790380758205163322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2007/03/48-days.html' title='48 days'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-7864247332851167413</id><published>2007-03-20T21:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-20T21:22:43.773-05:00</updated><title type='text'>49</title><content type='html'>Day 49.  Took off a half day off to help Stevie work on his resume.  But while I sat alongside him, lending support, I also processed a dozen expense reports.  Work never stops.  Then I took Sammy to his practice game.  Sand gnat central.  Sammy didn't do so well.  Choke-n-poke, he needs to learn what that means.  With a full count, you don't wait for another ball.  He'll figure it out.  At least he's fast... really fast.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-7864247332851167413?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/7864247332851167413/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=7864247332851167413' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/7864247332851167413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/7864247332851167413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2007/03/49.html' title='49'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-8350048432588696310</id><published>2007-03-19T21:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-19T22:05:06.570-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 50</title><content type='html'>Its official.  Today begins the 50 day countdown 'til E goes to basic training.  50 days can be a long time when you're pissed off.  I just get kinda really mad when she leaves a note on the door to "please let Esther sleep", but she makes sure to leave a load of laundry outside her door, in the hallway.  Apparently, this is a hotel.  Please do not disturb the princess.  But hopefully...my days will whiz by, and I will be surprised that the time passed so quickly.  50 days and counting...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a side note.  I am mesmerized by the baseball coach.  He is totally hot and has very beautiful children.  Met the wife, and she is very sweet and giving, despite her large hair.  Damnit!  OMG, thru the magic of the internet, I have discovered that he is a REVEREND.  I bet he does not appreciate sinners.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-8350048432588696310?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/8350048432588696310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=8350048432588696310' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/8350048432588696310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/8350048432588696310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2007/03/day-50.html' title='Day 50'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-4302970296889324956</id><published>2007-03-17T11:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-17T11:38:27.589-05:00</updated><title type='text'>catchup, ketchup, catsup</title><content type='html'>Well, two months goes by, and I don't have much to show for it.  I did get that treadmill and downloaded Puddle of Mudd to my ipod, but I haven't given up the Pinot.  Flavor of the moment, Twisted Pig.  I bought it only because I liked the name, but it turned out to be a good one.  I am running on a sporadic basis, and its helping the stress levels.  Which is good, because I need all the help I can get.  Actually, I think I need to jump on the treadmill right now.  I've got a headache that won't go away, and my neurologist is pretty sure that they are stress-induced.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E is doing better.  She came to her senses, left the boy, moved back home, and will be going to basic training on May 8.  The countdown begins.  She has been assigned her job, air traffic controller.  Awesome!  I am very glad that she is taking a better path in life, but damn, she makes me nervous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work is tough.  I find myself having to make ethical decisions on a daily basis.  What is the right, what is wrong.  I think I have a good moral compass, but its just a lot of pressure.  Run, Kimmy, run!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the rest of the circus... Stevie is working some crazy overtime right now, lots of planes.  And he wants me to help him re-do his resume, to post for a nice little promotion.  The boys are both doing their sports now, another hockey season for Charlie, and a first attempt at baseball for Sammy.  I've been really proud of his effort, and his natural athletic skill is apparent.  Well, except for the time he took a fly ball to the schnoz.  Luckily it didn't break, but there was definitely some blood.  Papa is terribly grumpy lately.  He had shoulder surgery and is tired of having his arm in a sling.  He just wants to get back on the golf course, but his physical therapist said he would have to wait about 5 more months for that.  Oh, and the twins... we've practically adopted Charlie's friends, Zaak and Ouzal.  Sweet boys, I think I will keep them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, but a break is on the horizon.  We're planning a little mini vacation up to Chattanooga, to go to the aquarium.  A long weekend, and we're meeting our friends Tonia and Eric up there.  I can't wait, I need a diversion!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-4302970296889324956?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/4302970296889324956/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=4302970296889324956' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/4302970296889324956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/4302970296889324956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2007/03/catchup-ketchup-catsup.html' title='catchup, ketchup, catsup'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-4245974801122792830</id><published>2007-01-07T00:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-07T00:28:20.133-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Request for a date</title><content type='html'>BTW, Steve West, the only person in the living world who reads my blog... I know I totally bailed on you the last time I was in the ATL... but I'll be there this coming weekend, Thursday night thru Sunday morning.  Let's set up a time and place beforehand, okay?  Coffee, dinner, whatever.  It's on me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-4245974801122792830?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/4245974801122792830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=4245974801122792830' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/4245974801122792830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/4245974801122792830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2007/01/request-for-date.html' title='Request for a date'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-4974895666512619588</id><published>2007-01-07T00:08:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-07T00:55:22.300-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 6</title><content type='html'>We're all very sad now. No one's sure of what to say, or how to feel. Even Charlie is out-0f-sorts. He is always my rock, Mr. Perfect, but today he had a melt-down. He sulked, he went into a rage and threw things, he cried and then slept under a bed. We are all very disappointed and feeling rejected. So now I want a treadmill. I want to strap on my headphones, listen to Puddle of Mudd, and run until I puke. I think I'll just drink some more Pinot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But on the bright side...&lt;br /&gt;My hairdresser is totally awesome, and he always puts me in a good mood. He's a hair master, a shrink, and a total hotty, all rolled into one. Too bad I'm too old for him! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also got an email from my old dancing partner on the island, Sergio, who just finished remodeling his house, so he sent me some pictures.  WHO LET THE DOGS OUT?  SER-GI-O! SER-GI-O!  It's so nice to hear from old friends!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-4974895666512619588?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/4974895666512619588/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=4974895666512619588' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/4974895666512619588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/4974895666512619588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2007/01/day-6_07.html' title='Day 6'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-116804971962695492</id><published>2007-01-05T21:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-05T21:15:19.640-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 5 of 2007</title><content type='html'>And today, while we were at work, she packed up her things and moved away.  She left a note on the counter.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-116804971962695492?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/116804971962695492/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=116804971962695492' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/116804971962695492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/116804971962695492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2007/01/day-5-of-2007.html' title='Day 5 of 2007'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-116795949422810240</id><published>2007-01-04T20:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-05T21:16:02.513-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 4 of 2007</title><content type='html'>Today we were informed that she was fired from her job.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-116795949422810240?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/116795949422810240/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=116795949422810240' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/116795949422810240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/116795949422810240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2007/01/day-4-of-2007.html' title='Day 4 of 2007'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-116787967665598415</id><published>2007-01-03T21:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-03T22:01:16.666-05:00</updated><title type='text'>3 days down, 362 to go... Lord help me!</title><content type='html'>Well, thanks to the big E, 2007 is off to a roaring start! &lt;br /&gt;Ugh... where do I begin?!  Honestly, this one is a doozy, so as is my style, I'll spew just to get it off my chest, but with brevity...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;E was not doing well in school, so we felt it best to pull the plug before another $10,000 was spent on another semester.  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The following week, she was going to enlist in the Air Force and it seemed like a great fit... she scored a 92 on her ASVAB, ensuring her of a great career field, and she seemed totally focused.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Two weeks later, after a nice Christmas, winding down the holidays, her ex-boyfriend/friend/maybe boyfriend again comes for a visit, and the next thing you know, she's got a ring and he's asking for her hand in marriage.  Active duty Air Force is now not an option.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Throw in some attitude, some tears and some illegal drug use, and quite honestly, I don't know what the f*** the outcome is.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I do know that wine is now my best friend.   &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;So, if you see me around this week, please oh pete, DO NOT ask me if I had a good New Year's!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-116787967665598415?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/116787967665598415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=116787967665598415' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/116787967665598415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/116787967665598415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2007/01/3-days-down-362-to-go-lord-help-me.html' title='3 days down, 362 to go... Lord help me!'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-116648102361062208</id><published>2006-12-18T17:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-18T17:30:23.610-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Blah!</title><content type='html'>I stayed home sick today.  I feel like dog-doo.  hack hack hack hack SNORT!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-116648102361062208?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/116648102361062208/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=116648102361062208' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/116648102361062208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/116648102361062208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2006/12/blah.html' title='Blah!'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-116648093361675725</id><published>2006-12-18T17:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-18T17:28:53.633-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The twelve days of Christmas</title><content type='html'>How funny... twelve days before Christmas, my neighbor and good friend, "Lizard" started getting odd items left on her porch.  Each item is supposed to symbolize one of the twelve days of Christmas and each one has a cute little note attached with ribbon.  For instance, the gift for a partridge in a pear tree was a can of pears.  The gift for two turtle doves was a box of turtle chocolate candies with a Dove soap bar taped on top.  So I'm thinking, WOW, what a cute idea... I wish I had thought of that.  The funny part, is that Lizard thinks that I AM the responsible party.  She is convinced that it's me, she says I'm the only one she knows who is creative enough to do that.  Um, pardon me, do you actually KNOW me?!  Really, thanks for the props, but I'm not creative.  Just because I work at an art school, does not creative make.  But in her mind, further proof that it is me... on the fourth day of Christmas, her secret santa didn't leave anything.  And of course, Lizard was with me most of the day, so she figures that I couldn't leave anything on her porch because we were together.  I'm just thinking that if her secret santa never reveals herself, then I'm going to get a lot of credit for this one!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-116648093361675725?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/116648093361675725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=116648093361675725' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/116648093361675725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/116648093361675725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2006/12/twelve-days-of-christmas.html' title='The twelve days of Christmas'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-116563770451918202</id><published>2006-12-08T22:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-08T23:15:04.530-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The week in review</title><content type='html'>&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I've had to be a hard-ass at work and lecture my troops.  Which, if you know me, and know that I make a joke out of everything, you also know that it's hard for me to come off as halfway serious, let alone threatening.   &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I actually had someone break down in tears during a teleconference, rendering me speechless.  I still don't know what to say about it.   &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I was approached to fill an even higher position at work, but I only gave it a second's consideration, because I finally believe in what I'm doing.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When I had to draw for secret santas today, I chose the name of a person that I often cannot remember because I only refer to her as "Fraggle Rock". &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I made travel arrangements to go to a conference in Nashville, Tennessee, somewhere that I have never been.   &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My twelve-year-old son confided to me that he has started shaving.  I'm not sure what, though.  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My daughter announced to us that she is quitting college and enlisting in the Air Force.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Every day I realize that my youngest son is actually the clone of all my most annoying habits.  No wonder I think he's so cool!   &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;What does next week have in store for me?  Lord only knows... I just hope I can finish the Christmas shopping! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-116563770451918202?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/116563770451918202/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=116563770451918202' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/116563770451918202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/116563770451918202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2006/12/week-in-review.html' title='The week in review'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-116554259893940128</id><published>2006-12-07T20:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-07T20:49:58.953-05:00</updated><title type='text'>unintended hiatus</title><content type='html'>Wow, I didn't expect to be gone from blogging for this long.  I like blogging.  I like the purging feeling it gives me of letting everything go, laying it all out on paper (or the screen), and being done with it.  I like focusing on the funny little things that happen everyday.  And I like sharing stuff with my friends who read this thing, all three of you.  I like blogging, until stuff starts happening that is so far beyond my control, that I don't even know what to say.  And that has been the last two months.  I still don't really know what to say.  But I guess I need to get it out there.  So, in just a few words: my mom died of lung and brain cancer a few weeks ago, my daughter is quitting college to enlist in the Air Force, and I got a big promotion into a position that I know nothing about.  Cool.  That's out of the way now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-116554259893940128?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/116554259893940128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=116554259893940128' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/116554259893940128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/116554259893940128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2006/12/unintended-hiatus.html' title='unintended hiatus'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-116044878358925632</id><published>2006-10-09T21:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-09T21:53:03.620-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Not a joke...</title><content type='html'>Q:  What do you get when you put a muddy 120 lb. labrador retriever into a MINI Cooper?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A:  A BIG FU**** MESS!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-116044878358925632?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/116044878358925632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=116044878358925632' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/116044878358925632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/116044878358925632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2006/10/not-joke.html' title='Not a joke...'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-115800158764584440</id><published>2006-09-11T13:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-11T18:34:27.123-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Boys' rooms makeovers</title><content type='html'>Since the big girl went off to school, Charlie decided to claim her vacant room, and Sam's room needed some overhauling, as well. So after a long trip to Ikea, 3 weeks of battling with Ikea's customer service, some paint, some good ideas, and a whole lotta work, the boys' rooms are finally done. Here are the results... (Charlie's room is the blue &amp; green one, Sammy's is red &amp; black.)&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/1600/IMG_0234.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/320/IMG_0234.1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/1600/IMG_0236.2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/320/IMG_0236.2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/1600/IMG_0236.2.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/1600/IMG_0240.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/320/IMG_0240.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/1600/IMG_0231.2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/320/IMG_0231.2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/1600/IMG_0231.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-115800158764584440?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/115800158764584440/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=115800158764584440' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/115800158764584440'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/115800158764584440'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2006/09/boys-rooms-makeovers.html' title='Boys&apos; rooms makeovers'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-115740074442974302</id><published>2006-09-04T15:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-04T15:12:24.446-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Kitty update</title><content type='html'>It was becoming more and more evident that this kitty already has another home, not mine.  So we returned to the scene of the crime, and drove around the surrounding neighborhoods, looking for kitty-wanted posters.  We didn't see anything until we went back to the shopping center where we first found him.  And there was his picture, splashed across the front doors of Pet Smart.  It turns out his name is Luey.  And he is now safe and sound back with his owners.  Case solved.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-115740074442974302?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/115740074442974302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=115740074442974302' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/115740074442974302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/115740074442974302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2006/09/kitty-update.html' title='Kitty update'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-115724673775090208</id><published>2006-09-02T20:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-02T20:25:37.840-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What's in a name?</title><content type='html'>OMG, the stress!!! For years, I have been bitching about the fact that out of all our pets, I have not had the privilege of naming ANY of them. Not the cats, the dogs, the goats, the bunny, the ducks, the chickens, NONE OF THEM! So finally, I find a cat, a wonderful, lovable kitty, and I get to name it, because hey, I found it! But I am finding it just about impossible to come up with the perfect name. Hell, I'm finding it impossible to come up with anything somewhat suitable. Yeah, I know, I said I was going to call it Depot, but ummmm... this cat is too pretty to have a goofy name like that. But at the same time, I don't want to give it a foo-foo name, because really, I'm not that kind of girl. So please, if you have any suggestions, please send them on. I would like to give it a name that symbolizes where I found it (Home Depot, in the green house, behind the bean pots). And yes, I have already thought of calling him "Beans," but again, it just doesn't seem to fit. Oh, and one last thing, he is one step away from being called "Gary," from the SpongeBob cartoon, as suggested by my lovable son and hubbie, but I absolutely protest this name, so PLEASE help me come up with something different! Here's some kitty pix to give you some inspiration... &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/1600/IMG_0222.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/320/IMG_0222.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/1600/IMG_0227.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/320/IMG_0227.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-115724673775090208?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/115724673775090208/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=115724673775090208' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/115724673775090208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/115724673775090208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2006/09/whats-in-name.html' title='What&apos;s in a name?'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-115722600866446123</id><published>2006-09-02T14:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-02T14:40:08.676-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Depot, the cat</title><content type='html'>Am I turning into the cat lady?! I think I might be, but I'll let you be the judge... Today we went to the Home Depot, as we do most weekends. Mission - to buy plants and dirt (same mission we have every weekend). I did not see anything that I really wanted (probably because I already have all those same plants), so I popped my head in to look at the pots (yeah, like I need anymore of those, either!) Anyway, I see a kitty hiding out behind the big bean pots. Beautiful kitty. Big kitty. I walk up, call him out, and he's a total sweety. He obviously belonged to someone at one point in time. So I pick him up, walk him to the counter, and they have never seen him before (unlike the other crazy kitty that actually lives in the garden center and meows pitifully all day). I checked with customer service, but they also reported no missing cats. Then we took him next door to the Pet Smart. Again, no missing kitties. What was I to do? Bring him home, of course. The kitty shall be called, "Depot". I'll have to take him to the vet and groomers on Tuesday. I just hope he learns how to get along with the other animals here at the farm. Anyway, I'll post a picture, just as soon as he decides to quit hiding under my bed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-115722600866446123?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/115722600866446123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=115722600866446123' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/115722600866446123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/115722600866446123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2006/09/depot-cat.html' title='Depot, the cat'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-115560790991544682</id><published>2006-08-14T21:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-22T15:42:20.656-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My hero</title><content type='html'>Couldn't forget to mention this... tonight we were on a walk, thru the woods on the path that leads from the high school to our neighborhood. We were only about 10 yards onto the path, when Stevie jumps back and yells "Copperhead!" That's enough to make me run back the other way, never to return again, ever!!! But the big man quickly accesses the situation, decides that he should kill the snake because kids walk thru there everyday, finds a heavy log, and then proceeds to beat the shit out of said snake, quickly and with due cause. Then he makes sure to leave the carcass out on the path, if only as a reminder to the neighborhood kids to WATCH THE FUCK OUT!!! &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/1600/scoppershead.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/320/scoppershead.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-115560790991544682?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/115560790991544682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=115560790991544682' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/115560790991544682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/115560790991544682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2006/08/my-hero.html' title='My hero'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-115560718855142225</id><published>2006-08-14T20:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-14T20:59:48.570-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A couple more days</title><content type='html'>In two days we leave for Rome, GA to take the big girl to college for the first time. I cannot wait. I am emotionally exhausted by this whole ordeal, and I just want it to end. Not only does she think that she is now the shit and can order us around (oh wait, that was always the case!), but now that she has her braces off her teeth and a cool new car, the boys have been circling around the house like vultures, ready to de-flower her at any second!!! The only thing I can think of to make them go away is for her to go away to college... 5 hours away, where I can worry, but do not have to be reminded of her every second of every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, while the girl is packing up her room, getting ready to go, she came across some old pictures, and I just have to post this one. OMG, is my Sammy the most adorable kid in the whole entire world, or what?! Here he is at age 3...&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/1600/sammy%201.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/320/sammy%201.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-115560718855142225?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/115560718855142225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=115560718855142225' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/115560718855142225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/115560718855142225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2006/08/couple-more-days.html' title='A couple more days'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-115515815617274962</id><published>2006-08-09T15:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-09T16:15:56.256-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Back to school edition</title><content type='html'>In case you're not from around these parts, you wouldn't know that it's back-to-school time.  Normal locales designate the day after Labor Day as the first day back to school.  Not so around here.  My boys have been back in school since Friday, August 4.  So I've been bustling around, trying to get everything back into motion, making sure they are adequately supplied, bathed, clothed, fed, and of course, making sure the girl is ready to go off to college, too.  And because I've been running around doing lots of little chores and errands, that's exactly how this post will read, too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E. got her braces off two weeks ago.  The dentist had to fit her in before she leaves.  So in one day the orthodontist took off the braces, then I drove her over to the dentist, where she had oral surgery to implant a falsie into a gap.  She is now the proud owner of a full rack of teeth.  The only catch is that she cannot chew on that side of her mouth for three months, and food should be no tougher than the consistency of steamed fish. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I earned a crappy parent award on August 3.  I went home early from work so I could take the boys to their respective open house events, to meet their teachers, etc.  I was so excited, because I love it when I get to be mommy.  Charlie was really wound up about it because this is his first year in middle school, and he was a little... apprehensive, to say the least.  So I drove Sammy over to his school first, wondering why there were no cars parked up in the front.  Then I realized that no one was actually going into the building.  Odd.  And then, I looked over at the marquee, only to notice the dates - open house was the night before.  SHIT!  I missed it! And as I drove home, I had a sinking feeling in my stomach that I had missed Charlie's open house, too.  I ran in, checked the website, and I was right.  I missed that one, too.  When I explained to Charlie what had happened and how sorry I was... his eyes filled up with tears.  I calmly left the room, went into my bedroom, and cried like a baby.  I suck!  But despite that, the first day of school went off without a hitch and no one is mad at me anymore. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To make up for my transgressions, I took the boys shopping on Saturday... for five hours.  It's not that we bought that much or spent a lot of time in any one place.  It's just that it was tax-free weekend in Georgia, and EVERYONE was out school shopping.  There were no short lines.  There were no short cuts.  And every store was probably jammed beyond acceptable fire code capacity.  Steve wanted to come with us, but I dodged that bullet.  I'm glad, too, because he would've freaked in that crowd.  Luckily, though, I managed to keep the boys happy and in good spirits, and a good time was had by all, except me feet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work is calming down, but there's some interesting stuff going on.  Basically, it's time for a new fiscal year, a new academic year, and department restructuring.  I'm hoping to be restructured (I applied for a higher job position).  But even if that doesn't fall thru, I did get a promotion to senior manager.  Cool. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the last tidbit, I'm going home today to some new fish.  I just got a call from Stevie, and he's at the fish store, picking up my new cobalt discus, three of them.  The store owner, Patty, has been holding them for me for a few weeks now, waiting for me to get ready for them.  I'm not 100% ready, but she needs to move them out, to make room for some new guys, so I promised we'd pick them up before Thursday.  Please, oh please, Lord, don't let me kill these things!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-115515815617274962?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/115515815617274962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=115515815617274962' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/115515815617274962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/115515815617274962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2006/08/back-to-school-edition.html' title='Back to school edition'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-115344818161592187</id><published>2006-07-20T21:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-20T21:29:17.843-05:00</updated><title type='text'>MySpace, small world</title><content type='html'>Oh man, I have finally given into MySpace. Yes, I know. I'm such a loser, or at least if my big girl ever finds out, she will think that I'm a loser. Why does a 36-year old mom of three, with a nice career and plenty of friends, find the need to play around on MySpace when it is clearly a site geared toward teenage hook-ups? Do I not already have enough to do? Doesn't my hubbie give me enough attention? Well, I'm not quite sure if any of that matters, but I'm glad I've taken the plunge into MySpace, so there! After all, I found my good friend, Steve, whom I haven't seen in like 13 or so years, and we're having lunch next week. I can't wait! And I've found some other friends from my "childhood," as well. I guess I like MySpace because it makes the world feel just a little bit smaller and a little more within reach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***Update - I think I just figured out why I shouldn't be on MySpace. One of the same guys that has been messaging my 18-year-old daughter just sent me a message, too. He said "You're hot. Let's talk." EWWWWW!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-115344818161592187?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/115344818161592187/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=115344818161592187' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/115344818161592187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/115344818161592187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2006/07/myspace-small-world.html' title='MySpace, small world'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-115318484502096237</id><published>2006-07-17T20:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-17T20:07:25.036-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Lost my filter</title><content type='html'>OMG, why do I say these things?!  Coming out of my mouth before I could stop it...  "Some of these parents think that the sun rises and sets out of their kid's........ (butt)!"  (Said to a very professional and kind professor re: a student in his class)  My parents always used very colorful sayings that apparently I have picked up, and they reverberate before I ever have a chance to stop them.  I'm so embarrassed!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-115318484502096237?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/115318484502096237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=115318484502096237' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/115318484502096237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/115318484502096237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2006/07/lost-my-filter.html' title='Lost my filter'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-115301682694835388</id><published>2006-07-15T21:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-15T21:27:44.116-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Little piggy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/1600/IMG_0052.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/320/IMG_0052.1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think my boy is getting ready to have a major growth spurt. Tonight we went to Love's for dinner. And he ordered from the adult's menu instead of the kid's menu, a giant plate of snow crab legs. When it came to the table, I was thinking there was NO WAY he would eat all that. But I was wrong, VERY WRONG. He demolished all his crab legs, a huge baked potato, and even after he ate all the fried shrimp off of Stevie's plate, he was still looking around the table for more. I am always hoping that the boys have a major growth spurt and become tall like their daddy, instead of short and elfish like me. Tonight may have been a sign of bigger things to come.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-115301682694835388?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/115301682694835388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=115301682694835388' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/115301682694835388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/115301682694835388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2006/07/little-piggy.html' title='Little piggy'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-115275443313480254</id><published>2006-07-12T19:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-15T21:17:34.550-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The happy gardener</title><content type='html'>Well, things at work are finally starting to get managable. I mean, at least I'm not in a panic the entire day, and I don't feel like I'm drowning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Drowning... I know what it feels like, really. Flashback five years. When I learned how to scuba dive, I had a horrible time with this particular skill where you have to fill up your mask with water and then clear it out. I'd feel the water under my nose and immediately sniff, and then I'd think I was drowning. So the first time I had to do that skill in the ocean, I was sitting on the ocean floor, I took in a little water, and I immediately tried to bolt to the surface to keep from drowning (which I wasn't really). Only you can't just pop up from the bottom when you're diving, or you get the bends (nitrogen bubbles caught in the bloodstream - very bad). So my dive instructor, Carlos, was trying to hold me down, even though I was trying to get away. He was a great instructor, because despite me trying to beat him off and pummelling him with my fists, he still didn't let me swim up too fast. By the time I finally got to the surface, I was exhausted and couldn't swim or function any more, so Carlos had to tow me back to the shore. How in the HELL did I ever learn how to dive and actually get my license?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I haven't been drowning in work as much this week, so I've been able to relax at night, do things I like, and not just immediately fall asleep after dinner. My favorite thing to do at night after dinner? Drink a beer, sit in the garden, pull weeds and prune stuff. Very zen. Here I am in the garden...&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/1600/IMG_0147.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/1600/IMG_0167.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/320/IMG_0167.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-115275443313480254?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/115275443313480254/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=115275443313480254' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/115275443313480254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/115275443313480254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2006/07/happy-gardener.html' title='The happy gardener'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-115266785185450360</id><published>2006-07-11T20:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-11T20:30:51.866-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Little feet, pink shoes</title><content type='html'>In case you don't believe it, I have little feet. It only makes sense, considering I am pretty short, and I would look totally ridiculous if I had big feet. And even though I am short, I DO NOT wear heels. I hate them. They hurt. And they make me look like I am just pretending to be tall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I just splurged on a pair of shoes. I have been wanting them for a year now, and I finally gave in and bought them. They are the most comfortable shoes I have ever had, and yes, THEY ARE PINK! Every girl should own a pair. Now I just have to get lots of pink shirts to match them so I can wear them everyday. (Kinda reminds me of when I was 14 and HAD to have a pair of pink Converse high-tops.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/1600/IMG_0141.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/320/IMG_0141.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-115266785185450360?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/115266785185450360/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=115266785185450360' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/115266785185450360'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/115266785185450360'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2006/07/little-feet-pink-shoes.html' title='Little feet, pink shoes'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-115172382422814718</id><published>2006-06-30T21:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-30T22:17:04.236-05:00</updated><title type='text'>TGIF!!!</title><content type='html'>At long last I get a break from work.  Four days, to be exact.  I have no plans, other than to stare at my boys and try to memorize the patterns of freckles on their faces, and maybe talk to E about getting ready for you-know-what.  Actually, I'm sure that I will spend a lot of time cleaning the house and gardening, because that's what I like to do and it needs to be done.  Hopefully some other spontaneous events will occur, and hopefully my camera will be ready... will post pics as soon as they happen. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bought my lucky shirt today.  Well, I'm not sure that I actually bought it.  Did I steal it?  Maybe? Not exactly?  Well, sort of?  Hell, I don't know!  Scenario... I went to the mall today in between runs to the buildings to deliver "art stuff".  Ran into the Gap to buy some t-shirts.  Found one very plain t on the clearance rack for $3.99.  Took it up to the cashier, rang it up, computer says $0.00!  Jack-pot!  He let me have it for nothing!  So it's now officially my lucky shirt, and I will have to wear it every day to ward off the evil spirits.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Came home today to find the cuuuuuuuutest spiney box puffer in my tank.  OMG, he's only an inch or so long.  Smallest one I've ever seen.  120 gallon tank, practically all to himself (I haven't really started stocking the tank yet).  And I can't wait to start feeding him shrimpies to make him fat and sassy.  It seems that my dear local teenage boy fisherman caught this puff with his casting net and brought him back home for my tank.  What a great surprise!  Thanks, Dominic!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-115172382422814718?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/115172382422814718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=115172382422814718' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/115172382422814718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/115172382422814718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2006/06/tgif.html' title='TGIF!!!'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-115137436608598486</id><published>2006-06-26T20:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-26T21:15:48.346-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tater Salad</title><content type='html'>Okay, aside from this whole wo*k thing that I just babbled about, even though I said I wasn't gonna, I forgot to mention something. Stevie calls me the other day while I'm at wo*k. I don't really have time to talk to him, because I'm so damn busy shopping and stuff. But I decide to give him two minutes of my time...&lt;br /&gt;He says, "So, what are you doing on September 29?" (Hell, I don't know! All I know is that I have to go shopping tomorrow and buy shit.)&lt;br /&gt;"I don't know, Honey. That's too far in advance to know."&lt;br /&gt;"Okay, well, I bought the tickets."&lt;br /&gt;"Tickets for what?!" (I'm thinking John Mayer at this point. You say tickets, I say John Mayer.)&lt;br /&gt;"Tater Salad!"&lt;br /&gt;"OMG, no f'ing way!"&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, f'ing way!"&lt;br /&gt;And I hung up the phone.&lt;br /&gt;Okay, my faaaaaaavorite comedian is coming to town, and before I even knew it, my honey found out about it and bought tickets. I think I love him, and I looooove Tater Salad!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/1600/tater%20salad.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/320/tater%20salad.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/1600/tater%20salad.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-115137436608598486?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/115137436608598486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=115137436608598486' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/115137436608598486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/115137436608598486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2006/06/tater-salad.html' title='Tater Salad'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-115137298740398973</id><published>2006-06-26T20:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-26T20:49:47.476-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I will not talk about work.</title><content type='html'>Well, I don't have much to report, as I don't like to fill my blog with the mundane details of work.  And that's all I've been doing lately - work, work and more work.  It's during this time of year that my kids forget what I look like because they see me so rarely. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually, my work is not mundane, boring, or anything like that.  I do have a job that is fun and that I do enjoy (most of the time), and I work with the best group of people ever. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;{Side scenario... two Sundays ago, we all worked until midnight, on a Sunday, driving from building to building, caravan style, hauling some very heavy art "stuff".  Boxes and boxes and boxes.  No one complained.  Everyone chipped in and carried more than they could.  And we got it done.  Because we had to.  Actually, they didn't HAVE to.  It was my responsibility.  But I needed them.  And they came.  I owe them a lung or something.} &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the past two weeks of work have been extremely hard, overwhelming, and creeping into my every thought.  And considering that I am dealing with a dying mother, a daughter who is about to go off to a very expensive private college, and all the other usual suspects (two boys, a husband and a father-in-law who don't know how to communicate with each other), I don't have much space in my brain for this work thing.  And yet, there it is, consuming my every waking moment, and most of my sleeping ones as well... WORK!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, I said I wasn't going to go into the mundane details (like all the schedule changes, calls for supplies, confused students, etc.)  Instead, I'm going to give you my shopping list.  Yes, I said my shopping list.  In the past month, starting with a zero balance, I have managed to max out, actually exceed the spending limit on my corporate credit card.  Here's just a sampling of what I have purchased in the past month... 75 flash drives imprinted with logo, 125 plastic dress forms (they look like shiny black bodies), 4 suites of living room furniture, a 16'x16' rug, 100 lbs. of cuttlefish bone, 12 nights of hotel rooms for two interns, 2 200-piece tinkertoy sets, 2 100-piece fiddlestix sets, a 160 gb external harddrive, a whole mess of printmaking paint, hundreds of cd-r's and dvd-r's, paper, magazines, a food processor, do-dads, and I don't know what else.  And of course, I have a shopping trip scheduled for tomorrow.  I think I'm supposed to buy a microwave.  AHHHHH!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-115137298740398973?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/115137298740398973/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=115137298740398973' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/115137298740398973'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/115137298740398973'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2006/06/i-will-not-talk-about-work.html' title='I will not talk about work.'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-115093355109696613</id><published>2006-06-21T18:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-21T18:48:01.143-05:00</updated><title type='text'>MINI friends</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/1600/IMG_0119.6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/320/IMG_0119.6.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. And apparently, there is a great community of MINI owners up there in ATL and Rome. On several occasions, I walked out to the car, only to find that the Red Rocket had been making friends in the parking lot. A MINI rule... there is always great size in numbers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-115093355109696613?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/115093355109696613/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=115093355109696613' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/115093355109696613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/115093355109696613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2006/06/mini-friends.html' title='MINI friends'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-115085593319432822</id><published>2006-06-20T20:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-26T20:55:00.283-05:00</updated><title type='text'>There's something to be said for conducting research on the internet.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/1600/Azores%20230.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/320/Azores%20230.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the past 9 years, we have been making most, if not all, of our life decisions with the help of information collected on the internet. And today, with complete confidence, I can say that this method is doing pretty well for us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The internet has shown us about what to expect on the island of Terceira where we spent three wonderful years. Then the internet brought us to Savannah and to The Hill, where we have carved out a fine little life for ourselves. The internet introduced me to SCAD, such a great school to work for and to be a part of. And in the past two days I have had the opportunity to visit the school that we have helped Esther choose, based on what we saw on the internet, and I can whole-heartedly say that this is the best place for her. WOW! What a relief to see it first-hand, and to have everything confirmed. What a great school this is, and what an enriching, supportive, and special community she is about to become a part of...&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/1600/IMG_0111.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/320/IMG_0111.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/1600/IMG_0106.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/320/IMG_0106.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; and I owe it all to the internet???&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/1600/IMG_0110.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/320/IMG_0110.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-115085593319432822?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/115085593319432822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=115085593319432822' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/115085593319432822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/115085593319432822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2006/06/theres-something-to-be-said-for.html' title='There&apos;s something to be said for conducting research on the internet.'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-115033438481691843</id><published>2006-06-14T19:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-14T20:19:44.826-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm your number 1 fan!!!</title><content type='html'>Really, the title of this post should be "I'm a number 1 geek!" Or, "Why I'm a pitiful middle-aged woman who still thinks she is a teenager!" See, I have a confession to make. It's really quite embarrassing, and my husband teases me endlessly about it. Are you ready for this? Okay, I am a member of the John Mayer fan club. A bona-fide, card-carrying, paying member of the John Mayer fan club. Yes, John Mayer, that same cotton-candy sickenly sweet pop-star that sings directly to teenage girls and makes them swoon, but makes all other members of the population go into fits of disgust? Well, I confess... I LOVE HIM, and I even pay to love him!!! I can hear you now... "Whyyyyyy?! NOOOOOO, not him!" Well, I can't help it. I discovered that if I became a member of his fan club, then I could get awesome tickets to his concerts, AND I could buy those concert tickets before the general public. Reason enough for me. But as a bonus, I also get "breaking news" about his upcoming releases, tours, etc. And that's what has me so excited... he has been recording a new album, and I am impatiently waiting for us "members" to have access, before you people in the "public", to have a listen to the first single from this new album, Continuum. So nanny-nanny-boo-boo!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/1600/john_mayer.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/320/john_mayer.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-115033438481691843?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/115033438481691843/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=115033438481691843' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/115033438481691843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/115033438481691843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2006/06/im-your-number-1-fan.html' title='I&apos;m your number 1 fan!!!'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-115033300560743794</id><published>2006-06-14T19:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-14T19:56:45.616-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm okay, really.</title><content type='html'>Alright.  One day of everyone at work tiptoeing around me is enough.  When I arrived today, everyone looked at me as though they had seen a ghost.  "How are you?  Are you alright?  You really don't have to be here today.  We'll cover things for you if you need to take some time away."  I swear, it's the outpouring of love and concern from everyone that has me so unhinged.  I'm not used to this.  I can deal with cancer and death.  But empathy?  That's just too hard.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-115033300560743794?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/115033300560743794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=115033300560743794' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/115033300560743794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/115033300560743794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2006/06/im-okay-really.html' title='I&apos;m okay, really.'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-115024903463761604</id><published>2006-06-13T20:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-13T20:42:35.066-05:00</updated><title type='text'>One last goodbye</title><content type='html'>My mom has lung and brain cancer. Did I mention that already? Well, after speaking on the phone with my dad on Sunday morning, I packed my bags, loaded up the car, and drove to Virginia. Dad didn't ask me to come up, and certainly wasn't expecting me. But it was something he said... "I'd be surprised if she lasts longer than a day or two." Apparently Mom's condition had drastically changed. She wouldn't get out of bed. She wouldn't eat. She wouldn't drink. For two days. And when I arrived there on Sunday night at 11:00 p.m., I went up to her room to see her, to tell her that I love her, and to tell her goodbye. She was lying across the bed, a sheet twisted around her tiny body, and she was almost completely naked. I rubbed her bald head, and she knew who I was. She reached up and gave me a limp-armed hug. So I told her what I had to say, and then let her go back to sleep. Needless to say, I didn't sleep that night. I lay there awake all night, wondering if she would be alive when I returned to the townhouse in the morning. Part of me wished that she would pass away in her sleep. Not because I want her to go, but because she seems so miserable, and I think that would be a good way to die. I think she lost her will to live.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But when I did return in the morning, she had already eaten a cup of cereal with milk and had a cup of coffee. Was she playing possum? I don't know. She continued to eat and drink throughout the day, and even decided later that evening, that she was going to get up and come downstairs. Dad and I rushed up the stairs when we saw her teetering at the top, holding onto the rail. She can't walk on her own, but she had gotten out of bed, put on a tshirt and her tennis shoes, and had gotten herself to the stairs. So we brought her down, and she spent about an hour sitting on the couch and working on the word jumble. When I looked at her scribbles later, I saw that she actually had unscrambled a couple of the words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning when I left, I said my last goodbyes. There wasn't anger or sadness or anything. Tomorrow she won't even remember that I was there.  I only told her that I loved her and that I will miss her.  And I won't be going back up there to see her again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-115024903463761604?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/115024903463761604/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=115024903463761604' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/115024903463761604'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/115024903463761604'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2006/06/one-last-goodbye.html' title='One last goodbye'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-114981804627558730</id><published>2006-06-08T20:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-09T08:14:08.740-05:00</updated><title type='text'>therapy in the chair</title><content type='html'>Oh man, I feel much better today. Maybe I'm just drunk...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, really. I guess I had a little therapy... got all that crap out of my system (without crying this time, thank God!) and I got an awesome hair cut to go with it. Yes, I spent two glorious hours getting my hair done. And my poor hairdresser got an ear-full. He made the fatal mistake of asking me how I was.  A seemingly innocent question, and I don't think he was prepared for the answer. I actually blurted it all out before he ever even started doing my hair. And that left the next hour and forty-five minutes for him to tell his weird jokes.  Almost two hours of straight laughing will cure anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, if you live in the Savannah area and you want a great hair cut and a good laugh, call Starglas Salon and ask for Brian. And no, he's not gay, because I know that was your next question.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-114981804627558730?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/114981804627558730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=114981804627558730' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/114981804627558730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/114981804627558730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2006/06/therapy-in-chair.html' title='therapy in the chair'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-114973002547824579</id><published>2006-06-07T19:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-07T21:03:40.183-05:00</updated><title type='text'>overwhelmed... again.</title><content type='html'>Once again, I'm feeling rather overwhelmed with stress. I wish I could say I was feeling overwhelmed with happiness, love, pride in my children, anything like that. But I've got crap coming at me from four different angles, and it's got me in no mood to blog about it. The few times I have tried to open up about it and talk to someone, well, I only end up fighting back tears, so let's just leave all that alone. I've been trying to come up with some other good stuff to talk about, and all I come up with are snippets of random things. So here goes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm into my third week of running. It feels really good. I'm not going far, or long, and I don't know how much it's doing for any kind of weight loss, but it's nice. Did I mention weight loss? I get questions about why in the world I would be concerned with weight loss. "You're already so tiny." Okay, fine. But I'm 5'2", and when I'm fit and in good health, I don't even tip the scales at 100, and I've been this way for years, even after having two kids. Remember people, ELF STOCK. But for the past couple years, I haven't been very physically active, and it has started to take its toll... 20 lbs. worth. And 20 lbs. is an awful lot on me. "NOOOO, I can't believe it! I saw your abs in that picture, and there's no way you are 20 lbs. overweight!" Well, remember people, that was just my stomach, and for those of you who know me in person, you know where any extra weight goes. Yes, it was hiding behind me. Ghetto booty, pa-tonk-tonk, or junk in the trunk... I've got it bad, and I want it to leave! So wish me all the will power to continue getting up early every morning to run. If not, then there may not be enough room left for the rest of my co-workers to get into our office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next topic. I recently found an old friend of mine from high school. Steve. We spent some fun times together, but please do not bring up the time again when I broke your mom's couch in the den. Hey, it was an old couch, let it die! So I found Steve on MySpace, and I have gotten to catch a small glimpse into his life, despite the fact that I have not yet spoken to him. (I'm going to call soon, I promise!) Anyway, he's engaged to the cutest girl named Holly, and they're like the cutest rocker couple you ever saw! He's all tatooed up, riding around on his scooter, and I couldn't imagine he'd grow up any other way. And would you believe... he lives in the same state that I do now? Not like I'm going to go visiting or anything, it's just a co-inky-dink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I was going to post some new pics, but I seem to be having some trouble up-loading anything, so not this time. Darn! And I was going to post a pic of my size 5.5/6 foot for you. But maybe it's better that I didn't. If I didn't know any better, I'd just think you have a foot fetish!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Humpday everyone... the weekend is now within reach!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-114973002547824579?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/114973002547824579/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=114973002547824579' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/114973002547824579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/114973002547824579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2006/06/overwhelmed-again.html' title='overwhelmed... again.'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-114815930288568655</id><published>2006-05-20T16:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-20T20:10:03.253-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's official, she's a graduate!</title><content type='html'>Just a quick entry to let everyone know... E graduated today. Not that there was ever any doubt. I won't go into my dramatic race across town to get there in time, but I was so nervous by the time I did actually get there, that I was shaking too much to take a decent picture. Damn traffic! Anyway, here's the proud graduate, with proud parents, under the picture tree. Just don't freak out when you see how much bigger she is than me. She was wearing heels. &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/1600/IMG_0063.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/320/IMG_0063.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/1600/IMG_0065.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/320/IMG_0065.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/1600/IMG_0066.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/320/IMG_0066.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-114815930288568655?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/114815930288568655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=114815930288568655' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/114815930288568655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/114815930288568655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2006/05/its-official-shes-graduate.html' title='It&apos;s official, she&apos;s a graduate!'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-114798642027792674</id><published>2006-05-18T15:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-18T16:08:09.476-05:00</updated><title type='text'>boysen.berry</title><content type='html'>I am sooooo excited! On Friday we received E's acceptance letter to Berry College. I had already determined that Berry would be the perfect college for E to attend. Luckily, she is agreeing with me. Some of the characteristics that make it such a good fit are:&lt;br /&gt;1. It's small, only around 2,000 students.&lt;br /&gt;2. It has a great school of education.&lt;br /&gt;3. It is picturesque and in a small town.&lt;br /&gt;4. It has conservative values (it is Christian-based).&lt;br /&gt;5. It has a cross country and track team.&lt;br /&gt;6. It places a strong emphasis on work. (Academic work, of course, but here I'm talking about employment and work experience while still in school.)&lt;br /&gt;Obviously there are other factors, but I won't bore you with all the nitty-gritty details.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night we received her scholarship letter. Her attendance at Berry was hinging on whether or not she would be awarded enough money. Well, suffice it to say that the dollar amount was exactly what we needed. Lookout, Berry College, here we come!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few other interesting facts that I discovered about Berry:&lt;br /&gt;1. It's online library website is &lt;a href="http://boysen.berry.edu"&gt;boysen.berry.edu&lt;/a&gt; (hahahaha, that's cute!)&lt;br /&gt;2. It has received financial contributions from Henry Ford and the Ford Foundation (Henry Ford was also responsible for building up The Hill.)&lt;br /&gt;3. It is the largest contiguous college campus in the world. Yes, I said IN THE WORLD!&lt;br /&gt;4. Deer outnumber the students by a ratio of 7 to 1.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I am officially a PROUD MOMMY!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-114798642027792674?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/114798642027792674/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=114798642027792674' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/114798642027792674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/114798642027792674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2006/05/boysenberry.html' title='boysen.berry'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-114780748951183035</id><published>2006-05-16T14:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-16T14:24:49.526-05:00</updated><title type='text'>blurted out</title><content type='html'>So we went to Carlito's for lunch to celebrate Lindsey's birthday. A large table of 10 people who don't know each other very well, except for the three of us at the end, me, Deb and Mary Ann.  The waitress comes to take our order. Everyone else is indecisive, so I volunteer to start. I'll have a number 11, please. And how do you want those tacos, ma'am?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;HARD.  BEEF&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;. &lt;/strong&gt;I yell out because I'm at the very end of the table in the corner. Then I look up at Deb, our faces crinkle up, and we both start rolling. Then Mary Ann starts snickering, but she's much better at maintaining a front. And the three of us were like that for the rest of the lunch, bordering on hysterical. Unfortunately, no one else at the table appreciated our Beavis humor.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-114780748951183035?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/114780748951183035/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=114780748951183035' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/114780748951183035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/114780748951183035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2006/05/blurted-out.html' title='blurted out'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-114764888538446327</id><published>2006-05-14T18:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-14T21:16:13.183-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Mother's Day to meeeeeee</title><content type='html'>Holy cow, I feel like a queen! I'm not sure why, but Mother's Day is becoming a bigger and bigger deal every year in the house of Beveridge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last year Stevie had not done well for Groundhog Day, Valentine's Day, my birthday, our anniversary, April's Fools Day, or any other day, for that matter. I was getting frustrated. From time to time I need a materialistic outpouring of love. So I put in some serious pouting time during the days leading up to Mother's Day, and I dropped numerous hints about an ipod. Well, the boy gave in and delivered. Looooove the ipod!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2006 is different. The boy has been doing well all year, delivering plenty of gifts and baubles on the appropriate days. I would have been fine with some arts and crafts creations from the kids and maybe a new pot of flowers. But apparently the ipod set precedence, because he went out and bought me a new digi cam. Wooohooo!!! I've been wanting one for a while, as our old camera was almost toast. It held up well, considering it was almost 10 years old. But it was definitely time for a replacement. The new one is a Canon PowerShot SD550, and it is awesome! I also received a new pair of earbuds for my ipod (pink, of course), the new Red Hot Chili Peppers cd, a pair of Gap jammie pants and undies, and a cool vase (made in E's ceramics class) full of gorgeous roses. Yes, I'm S-P-O-I-L-E-D!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/1600/IMG_0049.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/320/IMG_0049.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/1600/IMG_0040.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="241" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/320/IMG_0040.jpg" width="240" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd like to say I spent the day hanging out with my kids, because they are the whole reason for the holiday. But they were having too much fun outside with the neighborhood gang, which left me to get some other things accomplished. I spent a while filling out E's FAFSA, but thankfully that didn't take me too long. Then I spent the rest of the day putting in some quality time with the Red Rocket. She really needed some TLC-washing, waxing, vacuuming. We went out for a little spin, and then posed for pictures...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/1600/IMG_0023.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/320/IMG_0023.1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/1600/IMG_0022.2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 241px" height="240" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/320/IMG_0022.2.jpg" width="299" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/1600/IMG_0032.2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/320/IMG_0032.2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-114764888538446327?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/114764888538446327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=114764888538446327' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/114764888538446327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/114764888538446327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2006/05/happy-mothers-day-to-meeeeeee.html' title='Happy Mother&apos;s Day to meeeeeee'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-114730037136958549</id><published>2006-05-10T17:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-10T17:32:51.386-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Prom pics</title><content type='html'>As promised, E and the bow-friend... we're saving up to have the phone surgically removed from the side of her head. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/1600/onthephone.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/320/onthephone.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/1600/estherandcorey.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/320/estherandcorey.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-114730037136958549?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/114730037136958549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=114730037136958549' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/114730037136958549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/114730037136958549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2006/05/prom-pics.html' title='Prom pics'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-114729553338953272</id><published>2006-05-10T15:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-14T21:31:40.313-05:00</updated><title type='text'>a blog a month</title><content type='html'>What is wrong with me? It seems like I can only post once a month to this thing. It's not like nothing in my life is happening, so I have nothing to talk about. Au contraire mon frair... too much in my life is going on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to VA last month, and the visit went well. I feel confident that my dad is able to take care of my mom and her illness, and he seems to be keeping it together. My mom's condition kind of freaked me out a little. She looked scary. Her face was swollen from taking steroids, and she only had a few patches of hair left. But worse than all that, she was in a perpetual state of pissed-off. It was uncomfortable to see her laser eyes at my dad, CONSTANTLY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did have a highlight to my trip, other than the peaceful time by myself in the hotel... I went to visit Monica at City Hall, and she cleared her schedule for the afternoon so she could take me around town. She drove me around and showed me everything I have missed in the last TWELVE YEARS. It was a lot of fun, and I really enjoyed spending time with her. She is such a great girl, and I cannot believe how well she holds her life together - working full-time with sooo many programs, having a full family, running a horse farm, and growing, canning and pickling all her own veggies for the entire winter. Holy shit! I pale in comparison. I am but a peon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now that I am home, I have been helping E get ready for prom and finish up this whole college deal. I'm not even going to begin to go into the prom drama. Suffice it to say that the crisis was averted, she looked beautiful, and she and the bow-friend had a great time. (I'll post a couple pics as soon as I scan them.) The college thing, well, that's a whole other post unto itself. We are still waiting to find out if Berry College will offer her enough of a scholarship to make it feasible. I'm keeping my fingers crossed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On another subject altogether, I got an email from an old high school friend. It's been interesting catching up with him, and fun. I just can't shake the visual of him in high school, eye-liner and all. Here's a pic of John in his glory days while in his band, the Boom Choir. He's the one on the right.  Q-T-pie!&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/1600/bmchr1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/320/bmchr1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-114729553338953272?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/114729553338953272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=114729553338953272' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/114729553338953272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/114729553338953272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2006/05/blog-month.html' title='a blog a month'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-114471865566451539</id><published>2006-04-10T20:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-14T21:25:50.593-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Back to the homeland</title><content type='html'>Well, I leave for VA tomorrow morning. Yikes! I have no clean laundry, I'm not packed, I have not done a safety check on the Red Rocket, and I have not picked out my motoring tunes. I have, however, listed out a day-by-day play of the time I am gone, so everyone knows when and where they are supposed to be. Geez, I'm such a MOM! And I emailed Monica so we can meet up, have lunch, and if I have time I'll go out to Smithfield with her and check out her horse farm. Could prove to be a welcome diversion. Two weeks off work. Just wish the circumstances were better. Wish me luck!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-114471865566451539?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/114471865566451539/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=114471865566451539' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/114471865566451539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/114471865566451539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2006/04/back-to-homeland.html' title='Back to the homeland'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-114446407098466847</id><published>2006-04-07T21:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-14T21:27:30.096-05:00</updated><title type='text'>lost for a month</title><content type='html'>Holy cow... I had meant to keep up with this thing, to blog and blog and blog. Really, I'm into it. But you know what they say... life happens. I haven't been much in the talking mood this past month. Not writing, not conversing, nothing. I guess I'm afraid to talk about anything right now, because it might make me really look at what I'm feeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The deal is... my mom called me. She has cancer, and she has it bad. It is lung cancer that is in the most advanced stage and has moved on into her brain. So I'm trying to figure all that out and what I really think about it. I've always known she would eventually get cancer. So now that she has it, I'm just really confused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This weekend is our last round of SCAD Day plus the guidance counselor weekend. Heavy weekend. I'm going to muscle thru it, do my wrap-up on Monday, and then I'm going to drive up to the homeland for the rest of the week. I'm glad I'm driving up. The Red Rocket always makes me feel good, so at least I will be there with my friend. And I'm staying in my favorite hotel, the Hilton Garden Inn near Kiln Creek. But I'm really scared to see my mom... it will be hard.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-114446407098466847?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/114446407098466847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=114446407098466847' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/114446407098466847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/114446407098466847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2006/04/lost-for-month.html' title='lost for a month'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-114177680236624965</id><published>2006-03-07T18:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-14T21:29:00.556-05:00</updated><title type='text'>construction</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/1600/Jan-May%202005%20087.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/320/Jan-May%202005%20087.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is our 13th wedding anniversary. I can't believe it has been so long! But what it reminded me of was this time last year. I remember how mad Stevie was at me about something I had said, and it totally put a bad spin on what should've have been a special day. We had just started discussing the possibility of putting an addition on our home, and he was talking about doing all the construction himself. I got nervous, especially thinking of his mom's construction projects, rather haphazard in approach, spur of the moment kind of stuff, and I was afraid he'd dork the whole thing up. Holy crap, he was mad at me! I don't blame him - I came off sounding like I have no confidence in his abilities. So I ended up bringing him flowers and a gift certificate to Home Depot. Me, I got nuthin' except a hurt expression. Damn, I'm thick sometimes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, that brings us full circle, another year under our belts, and much of the construction of said addition has been completed. The main room is done, and Stevie is now working on the sun room that comes off the back of the new room. Here's some pics to see our progress, before and after... and as for our anniversary, we decided to hold off on the presents this year, since we've been spending so much moolah on the room and stuff. Instead, we just promised to keep on spreadin' the love. &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/1600/DSC00003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/320/DSC00003.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/1600/DSC00005.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/320/DSC00005.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-114177680236624965?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/114177680236624965/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=114177680236624965' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/114177680236624965'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/114177680236624965'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2006/03/construction.html' title='construction'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-114167872897922648</id><published>2006-03-06T15:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-08T09:05:42.976-05:00</updated><title type='text'>review of new lunch eatery</title><content type='html'>So, after hearing rumors of a new restaurant on Liberty Street, we decided to bite the bullet and be the first ones to eat there. J. Christopher's it's called. It may be my new favorite place to have lunch. With the exception of the slow service, it was great. And I have a feeling that the service will improve once the waitstaff gets the hang of things. Inside was a light, airy atmosphere, very California-feeling with melon and aqua decor. There was a lot of artwork, big portraits, obviously from SCAD students. Nice background music playing, some Steely Dan and Dave Matthews, two of my all-time faves. At first I thought the prices might be in the higher-than-I'd-like-for-lunch range. $6.99 for the chicken salad croissant. But the price was actually well worth it. The sandwich was huge and came with yummy roasted potatoes and fresh fruit - honey dew, grapes and orange slices. The chicken salad was quite delicious, with grapes, apples and walnuts mixed in. So ever since the Liberty Deli closed, this end of town has been in desperate need of a new good place to eat. Well, i'm pretty sure we just found it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-114167872897922648?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/114167872897922648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=114167872897922648' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/114167872897922648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/114167872897922648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2006/03/review-of-new-lunch-eatery.html' title='review of new lunch eatery'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-114167802273156497</id><published>2006-03-06T15:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-08T09:10:33.100-05:00</updated><title type='text'>over the hill?</title><content type='html'>Well, another year has passed me by. I actually turned 36 on Friday. I barely realized it was my birthday, as I was in the midst of an event at work, and it had my complete focus. Luckily for me, I was the only one who actually forgot my birthday. I was greeted by many birthday wishes all day long, and presents when I got home. Stevie finally used my wish list and bought me the new printer I was wanting. I also got a lovely pot of daffodils, and Esther has promised to glaze the pot for me in her ceramics class. And my party girls at work got me a dozen cupcakes from my favorite bakery. mmmmm Rum Runners!!! I didn't even realize that I had "requested" them earlier. "When it's my birthday, I want Rum Runners!" I must sound like some spoiled, demanding kid. But it was a very nice surprise, nonetheless. Oh, and one of my oldest and goofiest friends, Zack, sent me a picture of himself, all the way from Japan. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/1600/happy%20birthday.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/200/happy%20birthday.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-114167802273156497?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/114167802273156497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=114167802273156497' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/114167802273156497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/114167802273156497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2006/03/over-hill.html' title='over the hill?'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22902144.post-114071150280233980</id><published>2006-02-23T11:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-14T21:20:25.416-05:00</updated><title type='text'>the Red Rocket</title><content type='html'>How many of you have ever heard this expression before? Apparently it refers to the reproductive organ of a male k-9 when he is aroused. (Did I put that into nice enough language there?) Anyway, I had never heard this expression before, although I had heard of a doggy hard-on being referred to as "lipstick".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enter our friendly custodian, Matthew, back to clean our closet (office) from collecting debris. He mentions to me how he had seen me earlier in the afternoon, whizzing down Bull Street at a fairly quick clip. Okay, so I drive fast, and I like it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I reply, "That's because I was in my Red Rocket!" I thought it was cute, having a name for my car. Why oh why was everyone looking at me, completely puzzled??? Of course, they all burst out laughing. Neither I nor Matthew could figure out the joke. Much to my embarrassment, it was all explained to me after Matthew left. Red Rocket = doggy penis. Super! How could I disgrace my wonderful auto with such a crude name?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What the hell?! I think I like it anyway - long live the Red Rocket!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8116/2295/320/minired.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22902144-114071150280233980?l=30rantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/feeds/114071150280233980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22902144&amp;postID=114071150280233980' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/114071150280233980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22902144/posts/default/114071150280233980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://30rantings.blogspot.com/2006/02/red-rocket.html' title='the Red Rocket'/><author><name>Kimmy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12994777020449394206</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_eE8MlxMXyLk/Rlt9ObjgBHI/AAAAAAAAABs/ofYD6Yb-iiQ/s200/IMG_0410.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
