<?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-4189878148788956438</id><updated>2011-04-21T14:20:40.659-07:00</updated><category term='sad stuff'/><category term='MUSIC'/><category term='Book Club Time'/><category term='NASCAR'/><category term='Operation Knocked Up'/><category term='Geaux Saints'/><category term='Get the Hell Out'/><category term='meme whore'/><category term='Pay it Forward  Contest'/><category term='my bff'/><category term='band geek'/><category term='NaBloPoMo'/><category term='My Honey'/><category term='mmmm'/><category term='Read This'/><category term='jury duty'/><category term='Nub'/><category term='mumbo-gumbo'/><category term='Pollen'/><category term='Nub AND Dub'/><category term='worst book evah list'/><category term='100th Post'/><category term='bebe&apos;s'/><category term='ME'/><category term='Dork Alert'/><category term='COFFEE'/><category term='falling apart'/><category term='weasel behavior'/><category term='FOOTBALL'/><category term='pinhead'/><category term='The Diet'/><category term='Silence'/><category term='family'/><category term='Baseball Fevah'/><category term='things that REALLY annoy me'/><category term='frickin&apos; heat'/><category term='funny things'/><category term='Babe-ah'/><category term='BITCHY MCBITCHERSON'/><category term='wacky family'/><category term='back to school'/><category term='MRSA'/><category term='25 THINGS'/><category term='CRAZINESS'/><category term='Adventures in PreK'/><category term='tv whore'/><category term='i'/><category term='sick girl'/><category term='things we should ALL care about'/><category term='knock knock jokes'/><category term='BIRTHDAY TIME'/><category term='HIMYF'/><category term='Bubba'/><category term='Nutty McNutterson'/><category term='Life Lessons'/><category term='The boys'/><category term='Falcons stuff'/><category term='Day After Turkey Day Sales'/><category term='Dale Jr.'/><category term='GO TROJANS'/><category term='MIL Diaries'/><category term='The Wiggles'/><category term='2008 Olympics'/><category term='worky-work stuff'/><category term='donuts'/><category term='Germy Beasts'/><category term='Pay it Forward Contest'/><category term='i heart really bad tv'/><category term='new girl'/><category term='QoD'/><category term='Grams'/><category term='HOLIDAYS'/><category term='house things'/><category term='WEATHER'/><category term='Pink Pig'/><category term='baby fevah'/><category term='Playdate Alert'/><title type='text'>The Princess of Quite A Lot</title><subtitle type='html'>who do you think you are talking to?</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>184</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-3432023011171898714</id><published>2008-08-22T05:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-22T05:55:19.354-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Good-bye...</title><content type='html'>Hey y'all. I have moved to Wordpress. This is officially my last post here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As most of you know I am going through a lot of changes in my life right now. I felt in keeping with that motif it was time to change my blog as well. I have heard a great many things about wordpress and I am excited to learn my way around. I am leaving my new url and I do so hope you will follow me over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks, everyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here you go...&lt;a href="http://www.theprincessofquitealot2.wordpress.com/"&gt;http://www.theprincessofquitealot2.wordpress.com&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-3432023011171898714?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/3432023011171898714/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=3432023011171898714' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/3432023011171898714'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/3432023011171898714'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/08/good-bye.html' title='Good-bye...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-6228190284139620512</id><published>2008-08-19T20:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-20T07:31:11.599-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Operation Knocked Up'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby fevah'/><title type='text'>Operation Knocked Up...</title><content type='html'>Negatory, Ghost Rider, the pattern is full.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well. Did you really expect it to happen so soon? And with the living at the 'Rents house? In my old bedroom across the hall? Sharing a room with the boys?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's always next month. I would say wish me luck, but I am not sure what it is I should be wished. Fertility? Stamina? Bendiness? TMI?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever it is, wish it to me. I got a powerful hankerin' for another baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Edited to add- According to the Chinese Lunar calendar, I need to become pregnant later this month in order for it to be a girl. Which is theoretically possible. No pressure. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Otherwise I have to wait until APRIL of 2009 for my next chance at having a girl. Jeez. Anyone else have any other methods,ideas they would be willing to share? I really want a girl this time.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-6228190284139620512?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/6228190284139620512/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=6228190284139620512' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/6228190284139620512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/6228190284139620512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/08/operation-knocked-up.html' title='Operation Knocked Up...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-6738627338622701608</id><published>2008-08-19T06:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-19T07:14:00.884-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='QoD'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='2008 Olympics'/><title type='text'>Question Of The Day...</title><content type='html'>What in the sam hill has happened to gymnastics that a gymnast &lt;em&gt;who lands ON HER KNEES &lt;/em&gt;after her event WINS THE FRICKIN' GOLD MEDAL? Excuse me? Correct me if I am wrong, but I have always held the belief that the Olympics were the Creme De la Creme of the sporting world. To win an Olympic gold medal meant that you were the very best there was in your specific sport.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unless you are, apparently, a gymnast. Then you can do whatever you want and still have more than a snowball's chance in hell to win a medal. I also am  more than a little miffed that they no longer have the scoring system in which a perfect ten can be awarded. Then what is the point? Everyone remembers how exciting it was to watch Mary Lou Retton receive that perfect score. You were on the edge of your seat, breath held, just waiting and praying, and then Blammo! She did it! This new scoring system? Bah. It takes too long and allows for waaaaaay too many errors. My personal favorite being the judges. You can no longer have a judge from your nation scoring your event. Well, that sucks. Who didn't love watching the scores to see if the judges played fast and loose with their own team? &lt;em&gt;It was expected. &lt;/em&gt;And as only one score out of many it didn't hold that much weight. So bring it back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all I am quite proud of our athletes. They showed good sportsmanship and remarkable class even after getting ripped off. These games have been a lulu. But, as always, I will be sad to see them end. I look forward to the Winter Olympics in 2010. I also am looking forward to getting some much needed sleep. And maybe watching non-Olympic television! Oh! I almost forgot. Major kudos to all the news media for not giving away any secrets. I love that! Thanks, y'all!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One more thing? If those girls are sixteen? I will kiss the collective internets ass. One at a time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-6738627338622701608?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/6738627338622701608/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=6738627338622701608' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/6738627338622701608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/6738627338622701608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/08/question-of-day_19.html' title='Question Of The Day...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-8154203970454716866</id><published>2008-08-18T05:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-18T06:13:16.231-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Adventures in PreK'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Germy Beasts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nub AND Dub'/><title type='text'>The Downside To Pre-K...</title><content type='html'>All those germy, little beasts. Spreading their delicious little germs to everything and everyone. Germs! Galore! Germy-germ factory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's right, the Nub has brought the Plague of Death to his poor Bubba and his beloved Mama. Although the beloved part is now in serious doubt... It is awful, truly awful. There is hacking and absolute &lt;em&gt;rivers &lt;/em&gt;of neon green snot.Fevers and supreme grouchiness are the orders of the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's just me. Ba-dum, dum-dum. Sorry, it cried out for me to do that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to the sickness. Fortunately, we still have some of the cough medicine their Doctor prescribed the last time they were this sick.It's good stuff. As for moi?  I am taking OTC goodies by the truckload. I still feel like crap, but it's more headachey than anything else. And my throat feels like someone has recently grated the hell out of it. Other than that? Good times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now I am off to the kitchen. The least germiest beast has woken up and is demanding cinnamon toast. Or there will be consequences.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-8154203970454716866?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/8154203970454716866/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=8154203970454716866' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/8154203970454716866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/8154203970454716866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/08/downside-to-pre-k.html' title='The Downside To Pre-K...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-829671260305383973</id><published>2008-08-16T17:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-16T17:58:05.821-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='things that REALLY annoy me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='BITCHY MCBITCHERSON'/><title type='text'>That's Ms. Bitchy McBitcherson To You...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Jeebus&lt;/span&gt;. I'm not even sure where to start. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Umm&lt;/span&gt;, maybe with the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Geico&lt;/span&gt; Gecko...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyone else wishing for a big, screechy hawk(or eagle)to come swooping out of the sky and snatch that little annoying bastard right up?Thereby snapping his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;weaselly&lt;/span&gt; spine in the process and also inflicting unspeakable pain upon him? Anyone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                                  *************************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do the words "freshly laundered and laid flat in a laundry basket(or something comparable), fall and winter clothing only, please limit it to ONE basket per visit" mean to you? Do they mean throw them in a garbage bag? &lt;em&gt;Without washing them. &lt;/em&gt;Or maybe bring in your entire house? &lt;em&gt;Again, without washing one damn thing.&lt;/em&gt; I honestly am just about done with the sheer stupidity of some of these people. What really kills me is when they call to ask what the procedures are before coming to the store. And then don't follow a single one of them. I also enjoy being bitched out for not taking spotted or smelly clothing. That's my favorite. Especially when they get all offended.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                                 **************************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Living with your parents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                                 **************************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not being able to watch my shows. Oh wait, that goes with the last one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                                 **************************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss my girlfriends. I don't get to see them nearly as much right now. My mother doesn't believe that I should have any sort of a social life. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;After all&lt;/span&gt;, I am a mama now. &lt;em&gt;Mama's don't do that. &lt;/em&gt;And by social life? I mean any sort of social life. Right before my last knee surgery Jimmy and I had made a date to go to dinner and bowling with my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;BFF&lt;/span&gt; and her Honey. My mom was going to keep the boys overnight. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge. Yeah, she let us know that they would NOT be keeping them overnight &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;after all&lt;/span&gt; &lt;em&gt;as we were dropping them off.&lt;/em&gt;  Good times. Fast forward to the next time I made plans to go out with my BFF to celebrate a little thing I like to call her COLLEGE GRADUATION. A minor event in a person's life. &lt;em&gt;Two hours before I was set to meet her, my mom backed out. &lt;/em&gt;Her reason? &lt;em&gt;She forgot.&lt;/em&gt; Even though I had reminded her every day. For. A. Week. Bah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am &lt;em&gt;still &lt;/em&gt;mad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                                  ************************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now I am done. I think. I do reserve the right to add to this later.  I am going to relax and read one of the bajillion books I picked up whilst Yard Sale-ing yesterday. Y'all remind me to tell you all about the Steal 'o' The Century. Truly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-829671260305383973?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/829671260305383973/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=829671260305383973' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/829671260305383973'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/829671260305383973'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/08/thats-ms-bitchy-mcbitcherson-to-you.html' title='That&apos;s Ms. Bitchy McBitcherson To You...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-7324506994594270537</id><published>2008-08-11T19:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-12T06:42:43.533-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ME'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CRAZINESS'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Tired Is As Tired Does...</title><content type='html'>There is so much &lt;em&gt;stuff &lt;/em&gt;going on right now. And not just the Olympics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I may, and or may not, have escaped death today. Well, I did &lt;em&gt;obviously &lt;/em&gt;escape it. Duh, I am writing about my experience. But as to whether I would have actually died, well, who really knows? Here is the story...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My parent's have long been loyal &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;DirecTv&lt;/span&gt; subscribers. For like fifteen years. Loved them. Until our trees grew and blocked their signal. Not so much love after that. They call up good &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ol&lt;/span&gt;' Customer Service only to be told there was nothing that could be done. Short of cutting down the tree(heresy) or paying to have &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;DirecTv&lt;/span&gt; come out and re-position the satellite(so not gonna happen). So they shut off &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;DirecTv&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;em&gt;I know. &lt;/em&gt;It was just about as painful as it sounds. I mention that they should switch to Dish. We had it and absolutely loved it. Nary a problem. So they decide to give it a whirl. Only it will take about two weeks to have it installed. &lt;em&gt;Again with the knowing.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward two weeks to today. My father gets a wild hair and decides he needs a new &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;tv&lt;/span&gt;. A flat screen. He sends Mama and I out to search for a good deal. We hit K-Mart, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;hhgregg&lt;/span&gt;(which is a whole '&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;nother&lt;/span&gt; post) and finally, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Wal&lt;/span&gt;-Marts. We chose to go with the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Sanyo&lt;/span&gt; from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Wal&lt;/span&gt;-Marts. Only ours didn't have it. So we had to drive to the next town to pick it up. And here is where the almost dying part comes in to play.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are driving down the interstate and it starts to sound funny. Like a helicopter is hovering right above me. &lt;em&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Thwup&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;thwup&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;thwup&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;thwup&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;/em&gt;I can't figure out what the hell is making that noise, but nothing is wonky with my car. And we are almost there and at that point I just honestly wanted to stop the car and see what was wrong with it. We get the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;tv&lt;/span&gt; and come back out. I don't see anything wrong with the car. So we get back in it. And the noise is worse. But we have Dub in the car with us and it is hot. I figure if I go slow and am really careful, we can make it home. And we do,&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;thankyoujeebus&lt;/span&gt;. All I have to do now is wait for my husband to get home and take a look at it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I go to work. Typical day, people are idiots, it's hot, blah, blah. I come home and go see if he has figured out what the problem was. He had. Back when I had my tires done they, apparently,did not put my lug nuts back on correctly. Or even &lt;em&gt;tightly. One of them is gone. &lt;/em&gt;As in no longer there. Three of them are sliced in half.That leaves me with one. One lug nut holding my tire on it's rim.One. I am very lucky I wasn't in a massive wreck. My husband was slightly shaken up by the thought of what almost happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now? He is very,very angry. I will be calling the Tire Company first thing in the morning. I don't want this to happen to someone else. And now,if y'all will excuse me, I am going to bed. Almost being killed really makes you quite tired.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-7324506994594270537?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/7324506994594270537/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=7324506994594270537' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/7324506994594270537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/7324506994594270537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/08/tired-is-as-tired-does.html' title='Tired Is As Tired Does...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-2616852770821959846</id><published>2008-08-08T20:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-08T20:17:49.534-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='things that REALLY annoy me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Get the Hell Out'/><title type='text'>True Story...</title><content type='html'>I &lt;em&gt;am &lt;/em&gt;watching the Olympics. I am also on the internets. It's called multi-tasking. I am good at it. So I am looking for something and I see a headline about Christina Applegate having cancer. I freak out a little bit because I have always liked  her a lot. I go to the site and read the story and heave a big ol' sigh of relief. You know, us being all BFF-y and such. I then see that Paul Newman may have weeks to live. So I read I&lt;em&gt; that &lt;/em&gt;story. Speculation, no confirmation,blah-blah. Then at the bottom is this comment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Paul, you are in my prayers. You remind me so much of my uncle and I have always respected you as an actor and a salad dressing." by an anonymous person on the hollywood.com site.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first part was just sweet. And then I read the last bit and got hysterical. I can't stop laughing. I mean really. How inappropriate can you be?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who the hell comes up with this stuff? Better yet, is this person serious?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;That's all you can think of to say? &lt;/em&gt;What a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;wack&lt;/span&gt;-a-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;doo&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-2616852770821959846?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/2616852770821959846/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=2616852770821959846' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/2616852770821959846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/2616852770821959846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/08/true-story.html' title='True Story...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-1295126916739514495</id><published>2008-08-08T19:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-08T19:36:10.707-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='2008 Olympics'/><title type='text'>Can't Talk Now, Part Deux...</title><content type='html'>V. busy watching the Opening Ceremonies of the 2008 Summer Olympics...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my most favoritest things ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good luck, Athletes!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-1295126916739514495?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/1295126916739514495/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=1295126916739514495' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/1295126916739514495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/1295126916739514495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/08/cant-talk-now-part-deux.html' title='Can&apos;t Talk Now, Part Deux...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-2961499730830589969</id><published>2008-08-06T07:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-06T07:22:49.117-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nub'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='back to school'/><title type='text'>Back to School...</title><content type='html'>It is officially all official-like, or would that be official-ish? Huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You will have to excuse my lack of coherent thought. Or any sort of thought, for that matter. I am getting up early these days. To take Nub to pre-K.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it is &lt;em&gt;killing me dead. No, really. DEAD.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, the italics are off. Every morning we wake up at 7:15 and begin our day. Thankfully we do not have to begin it with breakfast because, dude, he eats at school. How rockin' is that?Love it! Dub and I drop him off and then come back home. Did I mention that his school is literally right down the street? So it take less than two minutes to drive there? No? That is also rockin'. But only for another few weeks. Then it will be about five minutes away. Still. That's not too shabby either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must admit the proximity of his school to my parent's house, or where we were hoping to move, did play a small part in the choosing of the pre-K. That and the fact that the school has been in business for over thirty years and I have NEVER heard anyone say one bad thing about it. Not one. I love it. I love his teacher. I love the room he is in. I love the curriculum. And more importantly? He loves it. He has already made some friends. Isn't that sweet?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are one small step away from birthday parties, spending the night and all of the chaos that comes with the territory of boyhood. I can't wait. He is so adventurous. He just goes running full tilt to the next thing. I hope he never loses that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My big boy. So grown up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-2961499730830589969?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/2961499730830589969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=2961499730830589969' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/2961499730830589969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/2961499730830589969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/08/back-to-school.html' title='Back to School...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-8786336997405094964</id><published>2008-08-05T08:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-05T08:04:22.650-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nutty McNutterson'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ME'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bebe&apos;s'/><title type='text'>Question of the Day...</title><content type='html'>Technically, can it still be referred to as&lt;em&gt; baby weight&lt;/em&gt; if the &lt;em&gt;baby &lt;/em&gt;will be three years old next month?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-8786336997405094964?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/8786336997405094964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=8786336997405094964' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/8786336997405094964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/8786336997405094964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/08/question-of-day.html' title='Question of the Day...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-6647713995231324250</id><published>2008-08-04T10:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-04T10:44:10.709-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Baseball Fevah'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Silence'/><title type='text'>Skip Caray:1939-2008...</title><content type='html'>The baseball world lost an amazing voice yesterday with the passing of Skip Caray. I am finding myself at a loss for words today. Something that is quite unusual for me. I am deeply saddened by his death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We never met. But I felt like I knew him anyway. Something tells me he got that a lot. You all know how much I love baseball, whether it be televised, in person or on the radio. It makes no difference to me. I just love it. So did he.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have often mentioned to my father just how much I enjoyed listening to him call a game. There was no one finer. And now there is only Chip Caray. His son. Who has a quite a pair of shoes to fill...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe him to be up to the task...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-6647713995231324250?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/6647713995231324250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=6647713995231324250' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/6647713995231324250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/6647713995231324250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/08/skip-caray1939-2008.html' title='Skip Caray:1939-2008...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-8692496760094406620</id><published>2008-08-01T17:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-01T18:05:40.560-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wacky family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='BITCHY MCBITCHERSON'/><title type='text'>Why Starch Is No Longer My BFF...</title><content type='html'>Or, Sweet-Baby-Jesus-Don't-Make-Me-Eat-Anymore-Starchy-Foods...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take your pick. Anyway you cut it, boil it, bake it, fry it, whatev, I am &lt;em&gt;DONE.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My beloved husband is considering &lt;em&gt;divorcing &lt;/em&gt;my ass if I continue to eat starch. Not really. But I would not blame him one bit if he did. I am, how shall I put it, a bit gaseous. And, um, slightly stinky. Well, hell. If I can't talk about it to you guys, who do I tell? Anyhoo. It's pretty bad. Really bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't really have any idea &lt;em&gt;how &lt;/em&gt;to broach the subject with Mummy Dearest. She has always prided herself on being a good cook. And she is. Truly. But if I eat another potato I may throw myself off the deck. The thing is? My Diddy will only eat certain veggies. Potato's being one of them. I know. It makes me nuts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why don't I cook, you ask? Because my Diddy doesn't really care for what I cook. He doesn't say so in so many words, but I can sorta tell. I use a lot of olive oil and fresh garlic in my cooking. I also make a lot of things he will not eat. Things involving turkey sausage, fresh veggies, whole wheat pasta, etc. We generally eat healthier food. We like lots of fresh fruits and veggies. I fry nothing. I am the opposite of my mother in the kitchen in every way. The one night I did cook? Was okay. The boys loved it. But I didn't feel like it would be something I would be doing again while we were here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which really sucks. I miss cooking. Very much. I am already planning the things I will be making the first week in our new place. And the good news is that that looks like it will be happening sooner than we thought. Like maybe in the next few weeks. We are going to look next weekend. If everything goes as planned, we will be moving at the end of the month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keep your fingers crossed. And maybe your toes, too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-8692496760094406620?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/8692496760094406620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=8692496760094406620' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/8692496760094406620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/8692496760094406620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/08/why-starch-is-no-longer-my-bff.html' title='Why Starch Is No Longer My BFF...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-626998471535943676</id><published>2008-07-30T18:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-30T18:31:30.735-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ME'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dork Alert'/><title type='text'>Can't Talk...</title><content type='html'>V. busy playing Mobsters on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;MySpace&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What? &lt;em&gt;I am kicking some serious ass and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;takin&lt;/span&gt;' names...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will return tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-626998471535943676?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/626998471535943676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=626998471535943676' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/626998471535943676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/626998471535943676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/07/cant-talk.html' title='Can&apos;t Talk...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-6251249759212368118</id><published>2008-07-28T19:53:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-28T20:06:40.450-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nutty McNutterson'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CRAZINESS'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pay it Forward Contest'/><title type='text'>GUESS WHAT?</title><content type='html'>I WON MY VERY FIRST PiF CONTEST!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's right, baby! I WON! WOO-HOO, WOO-HOO, WOO-HOO.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay. I'm done. And now feeling slightly guilty that I haven't sent off the package to my &lt;em&gt;first &lt;/em&gt;PiF winner. I know, I suck. It has been sitting in the back of my van for over a week. Because I keep putting off going to the Post Office. Only because I have to take the boys&lt;em&gt; inside with me.&lt;/em&gt; Yeah. Not so much. But I am going to. Because I do feel bad. And slacky. And bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhoo, back to being a WINNER. Misty over at &lt;a href="http://mistyatourhouse.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://mistyatourhouse.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt; held her own PiF after winning one she entered and I won it! Confused? I am, a little.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I WON!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will keep y'all posted. And calm down.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-6251249759212368118?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/6251249759212368118/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=6251249759212368118' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/6251249759212368118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/6251249759212368118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/07/guess-what.html' title='GUESS WHAT?'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-5566765375773935874</id><published>2008-07-25T06:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-25T20:28:02.899-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bebe&apos;s'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='things we should ALL care about'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life Lessons'/><title type='text'>Things That Have Gone The Way Of The Dodo...</title><content type='html'>They say that after you have a child your life will never be the same. That is absolutely one hundred percent true. And almost ninety-eight percent of that is all warm and fuzzy and gooey deliciousness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other two percent? Not so much. No one tells you about the &lt;em&gt;other &lt;/em&gt;two percent. So I have decided to take it upon myself to let you know all about what you can expect to miss. At least according to me, that is. Let us begin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* The very first thing I began to miss was the ability to sleep on my tummy. Sometime after the first trimester it begins to be rather uncomfortable. I liken it to trying to sleep on top of a personal watermelon. You know? Those mini ones? Plus, it just feels like you are crushing the baby. Not very maternal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* The second thing I miss,to this day,would be my old bladder. &lt;em&gt;Sigh.&lt;/em&gt; My old bladder was a champ. Undefeated in his weight. Impressive, no? The new bladder? Let's just say that he cannot handle any of my Diddy's funnier jokes. And yes, I know all about Kegels. I am the Kegel Queen. Wait, that sounded a little dirty. Let me rephrase that. I do a lot of Kegels. It ain't helpin' me not to pee my pants when I really get to laughing. That's all I'm saying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Another thing that leaves pretty quickly? Your brain. No lie. Kiss it good-bye. You will find yourself forgetting the word for, let's just use this as an &lt;em&gt;example, &lt;/em&gt;cat. It certainly did not happen to me. Nor did it involve&lt;em&gt; any &lt;/em&gt;sort of charades to try and make her &lt;em&gt;bonehead &lt;/em&gt;husband understand just what in the Sam Hill she was talking about, &lt;em&gt;thankyouverymuch.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;*&lt;/em&gt; While we are being all Share-y McShare-pants, I miss my sex drive. If anyone has seen her, send her slutty ass home. Who has the time for the sex? No, really. That is a legitimate question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*The " Good Ol' Days ". Being able to sleep in. Or just sleep through the night without having to get up. I'm not greedy. I would make do with either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* A little thing I used to call &lt;em&gt;privacy. &lt;/em&gt;You may refer to it as being able to go to the bathroom in peace. And by yourself, for that matter. Nothing says "love" like a little voice asking what you are doing while you are trying to do your bidness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* And last, but certainly not least, my sanity. I don't really think that needs much explanation. If you have children. If you don't, call me. I will go in to detail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, having said all that, let me say this. I love being a Mama. More than anything in the whole, wide world. But there are days I would like to run off and join the circus just for the break.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully,those days are few and far between.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-5566765375773935874?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/5566765375773935874/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=5566765375773935874' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/5566765375773935874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/5566765375773935874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/07/things-that-have-gone-way-of-dodo.html' title='Things That Have Gone The Way Of The Dodo...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-6543482084868599644</id><published>2008-07-23T07:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-23T07:12:09.142-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pinhead'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ME'/><title type='text'>Dude!</title><content type='html'>How long have I had this blog? A year? Year and a half?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just now figured out how to add my picture. No lie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;What a maroon...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-6543482084868599644?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/6543482084868599644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=6543482084868599644' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/6543482084868599644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/6543482084868599644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/07/dude.html' title='Dude!'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-7144274876853361782</id><published>2008-07-21T18:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-21T18:47:24.958-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='MUSIC'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny things'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nub AND Dub'/><title type='text'>The Best Part of My Day...</title><content type='html'>My day did not start off so well this morning. I ended up having to drive my husband to work at the ungodly hour of six thirty. Bah. Work was work. Except towards the end. When this beeyotch &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;made &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;me get a frickity-frackin' TRAVEL SYSTEM off the top shelf in the toy area. Because &lt;em&gt;she wanted to look at it.&lt;/em&gt; Never mind that it weighed three million pounds. Or that I had to stand on a LADDER to get it. Oh hells no. Then, and here is the kicker,&lt;em&gt; SHE DECIDES NOT TO GET IT. &lt;/em&gt;Wait for it. Because the cup holder on the top of the stroller&lt;em&gt; was dirty. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pissed does not even begin to cover just how angry I was. Still am. Monkeys will fly out of my ass before I lift one finger to ever help her again. Truly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the very best part of my day? Watching my boys "dance" to Louis Armstrong. And the rest of the songs on my dad's Ken Burns Jazz CD set. They love it. They love all music really. It gives my father a kick to be able to share his love of music with my children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just like he did with me and my Bubba all those years ago.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-7144274876853361782?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/7144274876853361782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=7144274876853361782' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/7144274876853361782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/7144274876853361782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/07/best-part-of-my-day.html' title='The Best Part of My Day...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-5391893360047987302</id><published>2008-07-21T08:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-21T08:51:39.679-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wacky family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny things'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Forkaphobia...</title><content type='html'>I don't actually &lt;em&gt;know &lt;/em&gt;if that is a real phobia, but we will pretend it is. I've tried looking it up to no avail. Does anyone know if it is a phobia? Anyone? Bueller?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is another one of my "family jokes". &lt;em&gt;I know.&lt;/em&gt; I have a lot of 'em. What can I say. We are a funny family. Don't be haters. Back to the story...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My father loves to run things in to the ground. And stomp on them. And then maybe jump up and down on 'em for good measure. When that happens and we no longer feel like humoring him we say " Okay, you're done. Stick a fork in it". This has been going on for years. Last night I decided to take it one step further. He was rambling on about something that was so no longer funny. I got up, walked in to the kitchen and grabbed a fork from the siverware drawer. Then I walked back in to the living room and stood by the couch until I had his attention. And handed him the fork. The look on his face was priceless. He later told me that he could not believe his only daughter would be so cruel. To which I replied that he was just jealous that &lt;em&gt;he &lt;/em&gt;had never thought of it. Which was true. Which then led to the discussion of phobias( see why I never explain my stories?!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I also love running things in to the ground I decided that I needed to make him a t-shirt with the definition of forkaphobia on it! Wouldn't that be the funniest thing ever? I need to come up with a better name first. Anyone got any ideas? Lemme know. I'm off tomorrow and plan on heading up to Michael's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I also plan on making one for my Bubba. Hee hee. But I can't write what I'm going to put on it because his girlfriend reads my blog. But it is FUNNY! After I make the t-shirts I will try to post a picture of them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-5391893360047987302?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/5391893360047987302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=5391893360047987302' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/5391893360047987302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/5391893360047987302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/07/forkaphobia.html' title='Forkaphobia...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-126715065007095907</id><published>2008-07-19T19:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-19T20:02:42.847-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bubba'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny things'/><title type='text'>I'd Only Ever Seen Him On The Radio...</title><content type='html'>Don't even ask about the title. It's a rather embarrassing remark I made whilst watching the Braves game with my Diddy. It's a long story that will no longer be even remotely funny by the time I get through explaining it to you all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unless you are my Bubba. Then it would probably still be funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's just say it will go down in our family archives as,quite possibly, one of the dumbest things I have ever said. Not the dumbest. We already had a winner for that title. Years ago. But it is definitely up there. Hoo boy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And on that note, I am going to bed. It's been a very long day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-126715065007095907?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/126715065007095907/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=126715065007095907' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/126715065007095907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/126715065007095907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/07/id-only-ever-seen-him-on-radio.html' title='I&apos;d Only Ever Seen Him On The Radio...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-1437577658032101775</id><published>2008-07-17T06:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-19T05:59:49.060-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Operation Knocked Up'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Get the Hell Out'/><title type='text'>Did You Know?</title><content type='html'>************ possible TMI alert ************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi! Here's an interesting tidbit I found out on Tuesday morning...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When having your IUD removed it is ADVISED to ABSTAIN FROM THE SEX FOR THE ENTIRE WEEK PRIOR TO SAID REMOVAL. Because with the IUD most women don't have a period. Or if you're like me, it's every six weeks-ish for about an hour. Ovulation who? So on the off chance you are ovulating before the removal, come to Mama!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WTF?!SERIOUSLY?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm thinking that might be an important smidge of information that a person's OB/GYN might need to mention beforehand. So certain people don't decide to win one for the Gipper, if you catch my drift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeebus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could very well already BE pregnant. I'm just waiting for my husband to confirm or the arrival of good ol' Aunt Flo. Either way it's gonna be one hell of a couple weeks! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**** edited to add ****&lt;br /&gt;Flo has arrived, thankyouverymuch. I would have been excited to have already been pregnant, but it would have sucked some of the fun right on out of it. You know?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-1437577658032101775?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/1437577658032101775/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=1437577658032101775' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/1437577658032101775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/1437577658032101775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/07/did-you-know.html' title='Did You Know?'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-604688466728752376</id><published>2008-07-14T18:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-14T18:57:29.499-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Operation Knocked Up'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby fevah'/><title type='text'>Operation Knocked Up...</title><content type='html'>************ possible TMI alert ************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is official. I went to my OB/GYN this afternoon and had my IUD removed. We now have the green light, as it were, to begin making another baby. Our third baby. Can I get a WOOT!WOOT! ? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, not actually tonight. I am a little crampy and uncomfortable. Maybe tomorrow. On the bright side? It does not hurt at all to have it removed. In fact it literally took about two minutes. Seriously. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now we wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And maybe begin discussing baby names. Or is that too soon?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-604688466728752376?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/604688466728752376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=604688466728752376' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/604688466728752376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/604688466728752376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/07/operation-knocked-up.html' title='Operation Knocked Up...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-1389357421298860654</id><published>2008-07-14T08:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-14T08:53:02.365-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='BITCHY MCBITCHERSON'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Week 3...</title><content type='html'>It's not going so well. I am very angry with my mother. I resent being treated like I am still in high school. It is really pissing me off and making it very difficult for me to remain civil. I am a grown woman. So is she for that matter. Jeebus...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband deserves some sort of medal. Or something. He has the patience of Job. Truly. He has always been sort of quiet towards my parents. Us living here has not cured him of that habit. He spends a lot of time with the boys outside or in our room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are just ready to be back in our own place. The kids are okay. The excitement has kinda worn off now. They don't really have anywhere that is their own space. Plus, if something is on that my parents want to watch,then they can't be in the living room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel so stifled and resentful. I keep telling myself that it is only for a little while longer and "serenity now, serenity now", but I don't know how much longer I can bite my tongue. I am on the verge of exploding. And to make matters worse? I am off work tonight. Yikes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Serenity now, serenity now...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-1389357421298860654?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/1389357421298860654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=1389357421298860654' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/1389357421298860654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/1389357421298860654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/07/week-3.html' title='Week 3...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-7538016711842183663</id><published>2008-07-13T20:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-13T21:03:49.395-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='25 THINGS'/><title type='text'>25 Things You Always Wanted To Know...</title><content type='html'>Yeah, I know it's kind of a cop out. I'm tired of listening to myself complain. Enjoy....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1- I am a total francophile.&lt;br /&gt;2- I love to watch commercials.&lt;br /&gt;3- I don't really understand texting. &lt;br /&gt;4- I love MySpace far more than I should. Far more.&lt;br /&gt;5- I am nervous about having another child. Excited, but still a little terrified.&lt;br /&gt;6- I am mad with the Atlanta Falcons. I no longer heart them. Geaux Saints!&lt;br /&gt;7- I have replaced "moot point" with "moo point". What? It's a cow's opinion!!&lt;br /&gt;8- I say "whatev" because I know it gets on my husbands nerves.&lt;br /&gt;9- I would rather take a nap than just about anything.&lt;br /&gt;10- I have a green thumb.&lt;br /&gt;11- I drink far too much soda.&lt;br /&gt;12- I can make really killer lasagna.&lt;br /&gt;13- I still sleep with my body pillow from my prior pregnancies. What? I love that thing!&lt;br /&gt;14- I still have quite a potty mouth.&lt;br /&gt;15- I put syrup on my cornbread.&lt;br /&gt;16- I pretty much wear flip-flops year round.&lt;br /&gt;17- I love everything about the Olympics.&lt;br /&gt;18- I like to watch beauty pageants with my parents.&lt;br /&gt;19- I am still computer challenged.&lt;br /&gt;20- I have a bizarre sense of humor.&lt;br /&gt;21- I love nothing more than snuggling with the boys on a lazy morning.&lt;br /&gt;22- I no longer care for my mom's meatloaf. Blech.&lt;br /&gt;23- I am ready to move out.&lt;br /&gt;24- I still sometimes miss my ex-BFF. Only sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;25- I do NOT want to be pregnant in the summer. EVER. AGAIN.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Voila! Now you know a little bit more about me. It wasn't at all painful, was it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good times.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-7538016711842183663?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/7538016711842183663/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=7538016711842183663' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/7538016711842183663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/7538016711842183663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/07/25-things-you-always-wanted-to-know.html' title='25 Things You Always Wanted To Know...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-1271069115077904183</id><published>2008-07-12T21:17:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-12T21:20:37.152-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ME'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='worky-work stuff'/><title type='text'>Well...</title><content type='html'>I forgot I cheated and put up a graphic for a post. That sucks. I was planing on doing that now. Saturdays are very long for me. I work from 10 to 6. And we are usually very busy. Fortunately that was not the case today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'm still tired. I'll be back tomorrow with some witty story, or something.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-1271069115077904183?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/1271069115077904183/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=1271069115077904183' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/1271069115077904183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/1271069115077904183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/07/well.html' title='Well...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-8186702343128166083</id><published>2008-07-11T21:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-12T21:21:42.389-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='BITCHY MCBITCHERSON'/><title type='text'>Don't ask...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.pyzam.com/graphics"&gt;&lt;img src="http://content.pyzam.com/graphics/9/good-weekend.gif" alt="Good Weekend" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More &lt;a href="http://www.pyzam.com/graphics"&gt;Comments&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://www.pyzam.com/myspacelayouts"&gt;Myspace Layouts&lt;/a&gt; at &lt;a href="http://www.pyzam.com/graphics"&gt;pYzam.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;img style="visibility:hidden;width:0px;height:0px;" border=0 width=0 height=0 src="http://counters.gigya.com/wildfire/CIMP/bT*xJmx*PTEyMTU4MzgxODA5ODQmcHQ9MTIxNTgzODIyMzg5MCZwPTM5MDEmZD1weXphbSZuPSZnPTE=.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, this is SO cheating. Bite me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-8186702343128166083?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/8186702343128166083/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=8186702343128166083' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/8186702343128166083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/8186702343128166083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/07/dont-ask.html' title='Don&apos;t ask...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-3708611636665416968</id><published>2008-07-10T19:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-10T20:15:50.299-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nub AND Dub'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='weasel behavior'/><title type='text'>How is This Possible?</title><content type='html'>Here's the deal. Why is it that going out to dinner with an actual newborn, and all that that entails, seems like a piece 'o' the cake compared to eating out with frickin' toddlers? Toddlers from hell, I might add. H-E-L-L. All caps. Yeah, I said it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember going out to eat with Nub shortly after he was born. Which meant the ginormous diaper bag, eighty-four changes of clothes, thirty-six diapers, six bottles, and god knows what else crammed into that thing. Can you say first time Mama?! Y'all know what I'm talkin' about!!! Then there is the lugging around of the carseat. Which almost never fits into a booth. And forget putting it on a chair. Not my preshus baby! So you have to place it in one of those thingys. Which then gets you dirty looks from all the waiters close to your table, because who the hell can get around those monstrosities? Then you get to scarf down your food. Or bring it home. Good times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also foolishly remember telling my husband something along the lines of "not being able to wait until the boys were older, because then it would be sooo much easier to take them out to eat". Suckers. It is so not easier. It might actually be worse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little weasels.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next time? My husband and I are going out to eat by ourselves. Where they serve cocktails. And  lot's of 'em.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-3708611636665416968?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/3708611636665416968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=3708611636665416968' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/3708611636665416968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/3708611636665416968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/07/how-is-this-possible.html' title='How is This Possible?'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-7094343354130155215</id><published>2008-07-09T20:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-09T20:16:26.422-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ME'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Read This'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Book Club Time'/><title type='text'>Books! Books! And More Books!</title><content type='html'>As I was sitting here trying to think about what I wanted to write about I happened to glance at my father's bookcase. Now, to be fair, I should warn you that we are all book whore's. Every single one of us. We have always been voracious readers. Nub and Dub are being brought up the same way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I digress. I was thinking that maybe we should have a new book to read for my Read This! Book Club. I have actually been thinking about that for the last few weeks. I just didn't know WHICH book I wanted to suggest. Well, fear not, oh faithful readers. Have I got a book for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The Last of the Mohicans" by James Fenimore Cooper. Believe it or not, I have NEVER read this book. I KNOW! I consider myself to be fairly well read. I read all the required reading back in high school way before anyone else. So you can just imagine my shock when I looked up and noticed that book and realized I had never read it. That is about to change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Y'all let me know if anyone else is interested in joining me and then we can hammer out some sort of timeline for reading/discussing the book. If not? I'll still be reading it. I am almost finished with the book I have now. I should be able to start it this weekend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-7094343354130155215?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/7094343354130155215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=7094343354130155215' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/7094343354130155215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/7094343354130155215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/07/books-books-and-more-books.html' title='Books! Books! And More Books!'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-2484850991845789570</id><published>2008-07-08T19:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-08T19:13:43.032-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='worky-work stuff'/><title type='text'>The Results of a Very Long Day...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.pyzam.com/funnypictures"&gt;&lt;img src="http://content.pyzam.com/funnypics/6/pyzammadskillz.jpg" alt="Mad Skillz" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More &lt;a href="http://www.pyzam.com/funnypictures"&gt;Funny Pictures&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://www.pyzam.com/myspacelayouts"&gt;Myspace Layouts&lt;/a&gt; at&lt;a href="http://www.pyzam.com/funnypictures"&gt;pYzam.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;img style="visibility:hidden;width:0px;height:0px;" border=0 width=0 height=0 src="http://counters.gigya.com/wildfire/CIMP/bT*xJmx*PTEyMTU1Njk1MTEyMTgmcHQ9MTIxNTU2OTUxNjY3MSZwPTM5MDEmZD1weXphbSZuPSZnPTE=.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry, it was the best I could do. I worked this morning. It was hell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Women are bitches.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-2484850991845789570?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/2484850991845789570/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=2484850991845789570' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/2484850991845789570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/2484850991845789570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/07/results-of-very-long-day.html' title='The Results of a Very Long Day...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-4565177871013834920</id><published>2008-07-07T07:30:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-08T20:31:49.230-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ME'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life Lessons'/><title type='text'>Smells Like Teen Spirit...</title><content type='html'>That song came on the radio yesterday. It took me back to my junior/senior year in high school. Shut it. And Chris Wilkinson. My high school boyfriend. Ahh, Chris. Young love and all that rubbish. He was pretty hot though. Dude, he was in a band. All that long hair. H-O-T. At least to a young girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's funny to look back on that now. We weren't all that serious. Mainly because I had NO idea how to be a girlfriend. And all it entails, if you get my drift. I was so nervous. All the time. It had to be difficult for him. I guess that's why he cheated on me with one of my closest friends. Who then became pregnant and had an abortion. Which I believe was the end of their "affair". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was my first experience with betrayal and heartbreak. I was devastated. I never spoke to her again. For some reason it upset me more that she would do something like that to me than the actual act of cheating. I didn't really know the "unwritten rule" back then. The last I'd heard she remarried(for the third/fourth time), and had child number two or three. I did see her in Wal-Marts several years back. That would have to be shortly after Dub was born. She is at least five years older than I am. Saying she has not aged well is putting it politely. Karma sure is a bitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boy? We became somewhat cordial to each other. I think we were going to date each other again and then didn't. I can't for the life of me remember why. Obviously it wasn't too important. I did hear through the grapevine that he married a nice girl named S. They have four(?) children together and are apparently happy. I saw him at the mall last year. He looked exactly the same. Well, minus the long hair. I didn't say anything to him. I suppose I should have. We were friends once. The hurt that I once felt is long gone. Long gone and been replaced a dozen times. But still, it just felt weird. You know? Maybe next time...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No matter what, it is still a rockin' song. Even after all these years...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-4565177871013834920?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/4565177871013834920/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=4565177871013834920' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/4565177871013834920'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/4565177871013834920'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/07/smells-like-teen-spirit.html' title='Smells Like Teen Spirit...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-1368227205505702690</id><published>2008-07-06T19:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T19:36:06.103-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pay it Forward Contest'/><title type='text'>And The Winner Is...</title><content type='html'>I had a bit of a dilema when it came to my contest. Three people guessed correctly. I asked Swistle what to do and she gave me the great idea of still using the RNG,but only between the three correct guessee's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I did. And the winner with the correct guess of the Titanic is.........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kelsey of Midwest Mom!!!!! CONGRATULATIONS!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will be notifying her tonight and getting her address. Thank you all so much for playing. And for visiting my blog. I really appreciate it. I enjoyed all the vagina/penis guesses. Boy would THAT have been inappropriate! As it was,I was pretty horrified by the sight of a giant, blow up version of a sinking Titanic. With children running around it laughing and squealing. And still more children lined up to slide down it. I don't know what these people were thinking. I really don't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you can bet if it were a giant vagina/penis those same parent's would not be so eager to let their preshus children line up to slide down it. Can I get an amen?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-1368227205505702690?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/1368227205505702690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=1368227205505702690' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/1368227205505702690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/1368227205505702690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/07/and-winner-is.html' title='And The Winner Is...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-441681111582626344</id><published>2008-07-06T09:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T09:27:15.887-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mumbo-gumbo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='COFFEE'/><title type='text'>Coffee Talk...</title><content type='html'>Being at my parent's house has had one rather faboo perk, the coffee. My Mama and Diddy drink a ton of the sweet nectar. Ergo, so am I. Which ALSO means yummy creamer. Mmmm, flavored creamer... I don't think there is anything better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seeing as how I am the only person in the hizzouse who actually USES said creamer I usually get to pick my own. I have some requirements for flavored creamer. First and absolutely foremost- no hazelnut. Ever. I despise hazelnut flavored creamer. Blechy. Which is rather bizarre, because I like hazelnut anything else. Weird, I know. I also do not like plain chocolate flavored creamer. Now if it's White Chocolate Mudslide, well that is a whole 'nother story!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My personal favorite would have to be Southern Butter Pecan. Mmmmmm. So good, so GOOD. I could drink it plain. Really. It is that amazing. I won't. But I could.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess this means I am going to have to buy myself another coffee maker when we leave here. I enjoy my morning coffee. I stopped drinking it because my husband doesn't care for coffee. He prefers tea. Freak.( Just joshin', Bebe!) So I got out of the habit of having it in the morning. Which was crazy. As the mother of two children, you know I could use a little hit of caffeine in the AM. Who couldn't?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of a little hit, I could use another cup. I will be back later with the winner of my Pay it Forward Contest.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-441681111582626344?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/441681111582626344/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=441681111582626344' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/441681111582626344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/441681111582626344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/07/coffee-talk.html' title='Coffee Talk...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-4654903015842102436</id><published>2008-07-05T19:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-05T20:11:06.805-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life Lessons'/><title type='text'>How Now Brown Cow...</title><content type='html'>Living with my parent's again as an adult has been an experience. To say the least. It has been pretty amusing so far. But to be fair, it HAS only been a week. I expect tempers to possibly flare in about two to three weeks. You know, right about the time we all get really comfortable with each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now please don't get me wrong. I love my parent's. Really. But they also make me nuttier than a fruitcake. I'm sure that I am not an easy person to be around 24/7 either. Unless you are my husband. Then you better damn well want and love being around my smiley self 24/7. But, I digress. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is just surreal to be back here after all these years. The boys are L-O-V-I-N-G it. We may not ever be able to get them to leave. Really and truly! Want to go see the cats before breakfast? Check. Want a little coffee? Check. Want to watch Tom &amp; Jerry whenever you want? Check. Want a cookie before dinner? Check. Are you sensing a pattern here?! It's okay though. I was worried their routine would be disrupted by our having to move back home. But they seem to be rolling with the ol' punches quite nicely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kids. Little milk suckers are quite resilient. Who knew?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-4654903015842102436?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/4654903015842102436/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=4654903015842102436' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/4654903015842102436'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/4654903015842102436'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/07/how-now-brown-cow.html' title='How Now Brown Cow...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-6354437837900656210</id><published>2008-07-04T22:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-04T22:26:39.699-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pay it Forward Contest'/><title type='text'>Finis...</title><content type='html'>It is official now. My very firstest Pay it Forward contest is over. I had 30 comments on my blog. My blog. I cannot begin to tell you how thrilling that was. Even if it was just because of the contest. 30 peeps is 30 peeps...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now I will figure out the winner. And let y'all know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you so much for stopping by. I do hope you will come back and visit. I plan on trying to visit y'all when I can. It was nice to meet everyone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-6354437837900656210?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/6354437837900656210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=6354437837900656210' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/6354437837900656210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/6354437837900656210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/07/finis.html' title='Finis...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-28058187612070587</id><published>2008-07-04T12:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-04T12:35:00.253-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='HOLIDAYS'/><title type='text'>Happy 4th, Y'all!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.pyzam.com/graphics"&gt;&lt;img src="http://content.pyzam.com/graphics/0/MJZ2645.gif" alt="July 4th" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More &lt;a href="http://www.pyzam.com/graphics"&gt;Free Graphics&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://www.pyzam.com/myspacelayouts"&gt;Myspace Layouts&lt;/a&gt; at &lt;a href="http://www.pyzam.com/graphics"&gt;pYzam.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;img style="visibility:hidden;width:0px;height:0px;" border=0 width=0 height=0 src="http://counters.gigya.com/wildfire/CIMP/bT*xJmx*PTEyMTUyMDAwMTkzNTkmcHQ9MTIxNTIwMDAyNDg1OSZwPTM5MDEmZD1weXphbSZuPSZnPTE=.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enjoy your day. Be safe!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-28058187612070587?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/28058187612070587/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=28058187612070587' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/28058187612070587'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/28058187612070587'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/07/happy-4th-yall.html' title='Happy 4th, Y&apos;all!'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-4991960190542913965</id><published>2008-07-03T15:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-03T15:52:43.430-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pay it Forward Contest'/><title type='text'>F-U-N!!</title><content type='html'>I don't know about you guys, but I am having so much fun meeting new bloggers and reading their blogs. This was such an awesome idea. I can't wait to see what happens next!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-4991960190542913965?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/4991960190542913965/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=4991960190542913965' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/4991960190542913965'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/4991960190542913965'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/07/f-u-n.html' title='F-U-N!!'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-6685014160404828335</id><published>2008-07-02T07:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-03T15:50:33.021-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pay it Forward  Contest'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CRAZINESS'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny things'/><title type='text'>Contest Alert! Contest Alert!! Woot! Woot!</title><content type='html'>So. The very fabulous Swistle and some of her Peeps have created a Pay it Forward contest. The idea is to send her my URL, which she will then link to on her blog. Then a person can scroll down the list of blogs and enter all these contests. The winner will be chosen by a random number generator through the comments. Sounds like fun, no? Then, and here is the cool part, the winner will be sent a gift from the blogger. Any gift. Any thing at all. I am practically BESIDE myself with excitement!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is my contest...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Sunday my husband and I were driving past the church that is down the street from our house. Well, former house. Anyhoo, they were setting up for a festival or celebration of something. I thought to myself "how fun is that". Then, I saw it. One of those giant, blow up slides. Only this slide was INCREDIBLY inappropriate. And I am fairly certain it would be considered so by the vast majority of the free world. So here is MY contest:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to see if anyone can guess WHAT the slide was. If no one guesses correctly I will still use the random number generator and award my prize. But I can't wait to hear some of your guesses!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without further ado, let the games,er contests, begin! Good Luck!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS- Because my link-y thing won't work you will have to access Swistle's blog from my blogroll.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;( edited to add: I forgot to set a deadline for my contest! It will end at midnight July 4th. EST. And the winner will be announced Sunday. The prize will be mailed next week! GOOD LUCK!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-6685014160404828335?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/6685014160404828335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=6685014160404828335' title='37 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/6685014160404828335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/6685014160404828335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/07/contest-alert-contest-alert-woot-woot.html' title='Contest Alert! Contest Alert!! Woot! Woot!'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>37</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-4740482140785283448</id><published>2008-07-01T08:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-01T15:35:44.145-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mumbo-gumbo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CRAZINESS'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='meme whore'/><title type='text'>Meme, Meme, Who Can I Turn To?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XMQK-mjKIYk/SGpN0haxRTI/AAAAAAAAAC4/ltHN-9KZ4Es/s1600-h/mosaic3173154.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XMQK-mjKIYk/SGpN0haxRTI/AAAAAAAAAC4/ltHN-9KZ4Es/s400/mosaic3173154.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218068682981328178" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O-kaaaay. This has taken me half the morning to complete, but I feel QUITE triumphant now that I have! Jeebus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got this idea from the very lovely Wordnerd over at Jambalaya. One teeny,tiny thing. My questions are back-asswards. Sorry about that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here is what you do. Go to Flickr, sign up if you need to. Then enter the answers to these questions in the search engine. Tag your favorite photo and voila! I am going to give y'all the questions backwards, so you can see my answers to them. Enjoy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1- What is your Flickr name?&lt;br /&gt;2- Choose one word to describe yourself.&lt;br /&gt;3- What do you love most in life?&lt;br /&gt;4- What do you want to be when you grow up?&lt;br /&gt;5- What is your favorite dessert?&lt;br /&gt;6- Where is your dream vacation?&lt;br /&gt;7- What is your favorite drink?&lt;br /&gt;8- Who is your celebrity crush?&lt;br /&gt;9- What is your favorite color?&lt;br /&gt;10- Where did you go to high school?&lt;br /&gt;11- What is your favorite food?&lt;br /&gt;12- What is your first name?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-4740482140785283448?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/4740482140785283448/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=4740482140785283448' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/4740482140785283448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/4740482140785283448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/07/o-kaaaay.html' title='Meme, Meme, Who Can I Turn To?'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XMQK-mjKIYk/SGpN0haxRTI/AAAAAAAAAC4/ltHN-9KZ4Es/s72-c/mosaic3173154.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-5154163650454698203</id><published>2008-06-30T07:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-30T07:58:49.961-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CRAZINESS'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life Lessons'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='falling apart'/><title type='text'>The Truth Hurts...</title><content type='html'>Some of you may remember the fall of last year when we lost our house.And all the drama that came after. I won't go back in to detail about the whole situation, we'd be here all day! I will just remind you that we had found a house to rent and all seemed to be right in our little corner of the world...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The house itself was pretty awesome, or so we thought. Your standard 3/BR-1 AND1/2BA. in a cul-de-sac on a quiet street. It had a great front yard and an even better backyard. But what really sold us on this particular house was the back deck. It was ginormous and pretty much as fabulous as a deck could get. So we moved in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two weeks before Thanksgiving the dishwasher stopped working. I called the landlord. I should also mention that our front porch light never worked. Which he also knew about from the start. As well as the light in our foyer. But let's get back to the story. We also had a new real estate woman in charge of our house. I didn't much care for her. That was about the time we began experiencing problems.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward to now. With all the things going on in my life, from my father's heart problems to my husband's getting his hours cut to getting my own hours reduced, we haven't had a lot of money. We have also been taking care of two households. And we were late with our rent. Twice, I think. Our real estate liason became, bitchy and it has to be said- smarmy. My husband and I talked and decided to go ahead and give a 30 day notice so we could move out. But before we could do that, we were given an eviction notice. We were told she would no longer accept any money from us until she had every dime. With late fees, etc it became difficult to pay the full amount owed. And then it was too late. Last weekend we spent my 34th birthday and our 5yr anniversary moving all our things out of our house and into my parent's house, or a storage unit we had to rent. Good times. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know we were late with rent. I do realize that. But what about all the times we weren't? No body cared that we did not have a dishwasher,front porch light,foyer light,missing screens, or that we had a tree eaten up with termites in the back yard that could fall on the house at any time, or the newest problem- the AC was on the fritz. She couldn't be bothered with ANY of those things. She could be bothered with being an Uber-Bitch when my father was undergoing a double by-pass and I was scared and stressed beyond belief. She didn't have any problem with that. Compassion? That was beyond her.And now another bit of bad news. My grandfather has had a stoke. A Major-Large stroke. He is in a nursing home. It doesn't look good. I didn't even bother mentioning it to her. She would not have cared. I already know that we will not be getting our deposit back. Not because we trashed the house or anything like that, just because she will find something wrong. The sad thing? We don't even care. We could definitely use the money. But we are so tired of dealing with her and that damn house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now we are moving on to a new chapter in our lives. We will be living here for 6 weeks to 2 months. We have decided to move back into an apartment for at least a year. Where everything works. OH HAPPY DAY! And then towards the end of that year to begin looking for another house. We are also taking a financial course for couples offered through our church. I felt it couldn't hurt! And I will be going back to school in the fall. I need a "real" job. Not that I don't love where I work. I do. I just need something where I can actually advance, have benefits, vacation, etc. So I will be going into Medical Office Management. My dream job would be in an OB/GYN's office. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that's it. End of story. It feels good to be back on the internets. I will be able to be here everyday. OH HAPPY DAY! I can get caught back up on all the goings on in the blog world. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I missed you guys!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-5154163650454698203?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/5154163650454698203/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=5154163650454698203' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/5154163650454698203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/5154163650454698203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/06/truth-hurts.html' title='The Truth Hurts...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-8415149573920530608</id><published>2008-06-29T17:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-29T17:19:38.792-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Honey'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wacky family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CRAZINESS'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='falling apart'/><title type='text'>The Bitch Is REALLY Back!!</title><content type='html'>So. I know I have said it before, but now it is really true. I am BACK! HA!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Due to some slightly weird circumstances completely beyond my control, I am now living with my parents. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I should say "WE" are living with my parents. In my old bedroom. Swell times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I promise to deliver a lengthy post tomorrow to explain it all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the meantime- I AM BACK!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you were...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-8415149573920530608?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/8415149573920530608/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=8415149573920530608' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/8415149573920530608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/8415149573920530608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/06/bitch-is-really-back.html' title='The Bitch Is REALLY Back!!'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-525703861875219557</id><published>2008-06-15T08:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-15T09:17:52.148-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bubba'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nub AND Dub'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='falling apart'/><title type='text'>Um, yeah. I am back. Again.</title><content type='html'>Hey y'all. I know it has been way too long since I have posted anything new. I do apologize. I shall begin to try and explain exactly what has been going on. You might want to make yourself comfortable. Grab a cuppa joe. It might be a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We can begin with my Diddy. He underwent a double bypass two weeks ago. It went extraordinarily well. He is recovering at home now. He looks wonderful and feels better than he has in what seems like forever. He tires easily and doesn't quite have his appetite back yet. But he's here. And that is what matters most.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My brother flew out for the operation. I volunteered to pick him up at the airport thinking that he would be arriving at a decent time. No big. And then he informed me that his flight was coming in at 11:38. PM, people. Still, I was okay with that. I am up later than that anyway. So I head out to pick him up. My parent's are calling me to see if I am there yet, my uncle calls to tell me that everything will be okay, and then as I am talking to my brother's girlfriend I find out his flight is delayed. By 45 minutes. Frick. We ended up leaving the airport right around 1 AM. I don't think either one of us were asleep before 2:30-3:00. I then had to turn around and take my husband to work at 6:00. Then come back, take a shower and get dressed. Pack the boys up and drive them to their Momo and Pawpaw's house. Then pick up my brother and go BACK to the airport to pick up my brother's girlfriend who was flying in from Texas. Confused yet?! I was. And tired. And in dire need of some COFFEE! We all were. We hit up Starbucks and Panera for breakfast on our way to the hospital. We also picked up a little somethin'-somethin' for my Mama, knowing good and well that she had not yet had any thing to eat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We made it to the hospital fairly early. We all have books. We were told we would not be able to be in the same room with him until he was back in SICU. It sucked, but we understood. And then we met his nurse. Miss Ruby. What a jewel.I said that our last name was L. and she said that we weren't who she was trying to find. The lady next to me started talking about how the lady she was looking for had these " two cute little grandsons she had named Nub and Dub" and I turned to her and introduced myself as the Mama of said Nub and Dub. Apparently my mother had been waxing poetic about her grandbabies. Miss Ruby asked who we were and we gave her our names. And that was all it took. She immediately took us back to where Diddy was. We were able to talk to him for a few minutes before they began prepping him for the four hour surgery. It was a little scary seeing him like that. They had an IV hooked up yo his carotid artery, just in case. His doctor came in and introduced himself to J., J., and I. He was cool as a cucumber. I was very impressed. He explained what he would be doing and answered all our questions. Then the team came in to begin prepping him for surgery. We retired to the waiting room. And what would probably be the longest four hours of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what I would have done without my Bubba. He was a rock. Truly. He fed us, made sure Mama was okay, made jokes(yeah, we are those kinds of people- we choose to laugh rather than cry) and just pretty much rocked in the free world. Please don't think his girlfriend wasn't completely awesome too, she was. But she also had her own drama goin' on at the same time. Really, what is the point of having drama if you can't have a crapload of it going on at the same time?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, my Diddy is home. It should be all good. Except it's not. He can't work for another four to six weeks. My mother doesn't work because she watches the boys so I can work. But now she is taking care of Diddy. So I have had to cut back on my hours. Which has hurt us financially. I decided to get another job. I am thinking about going back to work bartending on the weekends, but until I can find somewhere to hire me I had to come up with something else. So I am selling Avon. It was only ten bucks to sign up. I have a website, but I am pretty sure I am not allowed to mention it/pimp myself on my own blog. Which is lame. Whatev. If anyone is interested leave me a comment and I will give you my e-mail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now I am beginning the process of signing Nub up for Pre-K. Jesus. Pre-K. It pains me to think about it. He'll be headed to college next week. I am joking, but damned if it doesn't really feel like that some days. Time goes by so fast. Seems like it was only yesterday that we brought him home from the hospital. Okay, enough with all the moopy talk. I promise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am okay. Just tired and stretched way too thin. I am trying to just breathe and let go of some of the more unimportant things right now. Housework would be number one on that list! Kidding. Sort of. My house is semi-clean. Just not on par with my usual standards. I look at it this way- you don't like it, then you can lump it. Or bite me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do feel better after unloading all of this on you guys. I need to get back to posting everyday, for my own sanity. Or what is left of it at any rate. Thanks y'all. You ROCK.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-525703861875219557?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/525703861875219557/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=525703861875219557' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/525703861875219557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/525703861875219557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/06/um-yeah-i-am-back-again.html' title='Um, yeah. I am back. Again.'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-8906571777724023389</id><published>2008-05-26T15:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-26T15:59:42.026-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='HOLIDAYS'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Memorial Day 2008...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.pyzam.com/graphics/details/2382"&gt;&lt;img src="http://content.pyzam.com/graphics/holidays/MJZ604.gif" alt="Happy Memorial Day!" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More &lt;a href="http://www.pyzam.com/graphics"&gt;Free Graphics&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://www.pyzam.com/myspacelayouts"&gt;Myspace Layouts&lt;/a&gt; at &lt;a href="http://www.pyzam.com/graphics"&gt;pYzam.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have a good one, y'all. Everything is as well as to be expected. I will be back later this week with another update.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you to everyone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-8906571777724023389?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/8906571777724023389/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=8906571777724023389' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/8906571777724023389'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/8906571777724023389'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/05/memorial-day-2008.html' title='Memorial Day 2008...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-5061750921259656636</id><published>2008-05-23T12:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-23T12:52:15.750-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sad stuff'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Update...</title><content type='html'>My father is home for the weekend. He did not have a heart attack. For which I am very grateful. But, he will be going back next Thursday for open heart surgery. As you can all well imagine, things are hectic. I'm not sure when I will be back. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keep him in your prayers,please.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-5061750921259656636?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/5061750921259656636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=5061750921259656636' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/5061750921259656636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/5061750921259656636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/05/update.html' title='Update...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-3512521495649065186</id><published>2008-05-19T04:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-19T04:49:21.039-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sad stuff'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='falling apart'/><title type='text'>It's Deja Vu All Over Again...</title><content type='html'>The day after my youngest son was born my father came down with the worst case of the chicken pox his doctor had ever seen. Apparently, my father managed to go most of his life without ever having been exposed. This includes a bout that my brother and I went through when we were little. Weird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two weeks after the Chicken Pox Incident my husband woke me up early in the morning to tell me that my father was in the ER, his grandparents were on the way to watch the boys, and I needed to get dressed. He had had the first of what turned out to be four heart attacks. The next few days were a complete blur. We went from Wellstar D, to Wellstar C, to P Hospital. It was terrifying. Every time the phone rang my heart would stop. The doctors of all three hospitals will forever be in my debt. Especially his cardiologist from P Hospital. He saved his life.He had four stents put in. They joined the two that were put in after his first heart attack, the one that took place what now seems like a lifetime ago. The one that caused him to quit smoking and eat better. Exercise more. It gave us hope that he would be okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward to two and a half years later. Today. This morning. When my husband again woke me up with the news that my father was in yet another hospital. And that one of his stents had possibly collapsed. That they were fairly certain he had not had another heart attack, but wanted to run some tests to be sure. Oh, and could I not go to work today, but not tell my boss why. And maybe find someone to watch the kids, but not tell them why. And be sure not to tell any of my friends. Because no one could know. Because if the wrong person found out, they could lose it all. Which of course was my number one concern. I mean, far be it from me to be more concerned with a crazy little thing like my father's actual health, than about whether or not someone finds out he is in the hospital with heart problems. AGAIN.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I kept asking my husband if I was dreaming. It seems like we just went through all of this yesterday.How can it be happening again? I am so tired. I barely slept at all last night because of my stupid stye. And in a few minutes I have to go wake up my mom and the boys. I came straight here after dropping my hubs off at work. Please keep my father in your prayers. I will be back with an update just as soon as I know exactly what is going on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-3512521495649065186?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/3512521495649065186/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=3512521495649065186' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/3512521495649065186'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/3512521495649065186'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/05/its-deja-vu-all-over-again.html' title='It&apos;s Deja Vu All Over Again...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-1129734873571046127</id><published>2008-05-18T13:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-18T13:09:56.671-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='BITCHY MCBITCHERSON'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='falling apart'/><title type='text'>There's A Stye In My Eye...</title><content type='html'>And it makes me wanna cry...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dude. It is really kicking my ass. I called out of work yesterday, it was that bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bah.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-1129734873571046127?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/1129734873571046127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=1129734873571046127' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/1129734873571046127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/1129734873571046127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/05/theres-stye-in-my-eye.html' title='There&apos;s A Stye In My Eye...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-1746236598188898039</id><published>2008-05-15T12:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-15T12:52:30.544-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='BITCHY MCBITCHERSON'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='worky-work stuff'/><title type='text'>Bitchin'...</title><content type='html'>Mary Mother of God, are you people all frickin' morons? No, really. I'm serious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I work in a children's re-sale store. It is almost SUMMER. WHY WOULD YOU THINK WE WOULD BE TAKING WINTER CLOTHES? THIS IS THE SOUTH. USE YOUR BRAINS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry, it just gets very annoying on a daily basis to have to say the same thing over and over and over again. What really kills me? When they get offended that we are no longer taking fall/winter clothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Morons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't even get me started on the spots/smells,etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Catch ya later, Gator...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-1746236598188898039?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/1746236598188898039/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=1746236598188898039' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/1746236598188898039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/1746236598188898039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/05/bitchin.html' title='Bitchin&apos;...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-77368623099993531</id><published>2008-05-13T14:23:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-13T14:33:32.427-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mumbo-gumbo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CRAZINESS'/><title type='text'>Not Enough Hours In The Day...</title><content type='html'>I know, I have been horrible about posting lately. For many reasons. The biggest one being I don't have my computer in my house anymore. It has become increasingly difficult for me to write while my parent's are re-inacting their version of the Spanish Inquisition. I feel rushed. I don't like being rushed. Plus, I also have to stop in the middle of what I am doing to chase after the boys. Which is ridiculous. And no matter how early I arrive, she always says "you should have come earlier if you wanted to get on the computer". Which never fails to really piss me off. It's my goddamn computer!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's just a lot of crap. I barely even have time to leave comments on all my friends blogs. Which also makes me feel like crap. I miss you guys. A lot. I'm not even sure when I will be able to get my computer back.  As a matter of fact, I have decided to ask for a lap top for my birthday. It's next month. Keep your fingers crossed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am more than ready to be back. I am trying to be positive, but it aint easy. Just know that I am thinking of all of you. And missing the hell out of you all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-77368623099993531?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/77368623099993531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=77368623099993531' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/77368623099993531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/77368623099993531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/05/not-enough-hours-in-day.html' title='Not Enough Hours In The Day...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-4899050245678188977</id><published>2008-05-12T16:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-12T16:36:00.646-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='WEATHER'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='things we should ALL care about'/><title type='text'>Weather Update...</title><content type='html'>We are all okay. No major damage, just some tree debris. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart goes out to all those people who have suffered greater losses.You are all in my prayers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-4899050245678188977?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/4899050245678188977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=4899050245678188977' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/4899050245678188977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/4899050245678188977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/05/weather-update.html' title='Weather Update...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-757765320821738976</id><published>2008-04-29T16:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-29T17:05:05.567-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mumbo-gumbo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Things I Have Learned Thus Far...</title><content type='html'>I borrowed this from Zoot. It just took me a little while to get it up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Sometimes it's not all bad that you find yourself turning into your mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*And sometimes she can still make you madder than a wet hen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*When things are tough, the person I want to comfort me is always my husband.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Nothing beats the smell of little boys and sunshine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Potty training really IS the seventh circle of hell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Sometimes being on the same page is way overrated...most of the time I'm happy if we're on the same chapter!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Being a mama is the tough. And wonderful all at the same time. Did I mention tough?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Just how cool it is to see the wonders of the world through the eyes of your child.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*That sometimes the dishes really can wait, and so can the laundry, if it's more fun to play a little game of Candyland instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*That I would love someone other than myself and my husband more than anything imaginable. And then some.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Your family is always your family. Even when they irritate the crap out of you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*You really do learn something new every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What about y'all? Any new tricks?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-757765320821738976?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/757765320821738976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=757765320821738976' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/757765320821738976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/757765320821738976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/04/things-i-have-learned-thus-far.html' title='Things I Have Learned Thus Far...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-7410721095487244440</id><published>2008-04-27T15:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-27T15:40:40.538-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mumbo-gumbo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny things'/><title type='text'>Still Watching Out For Cat Barp....</title><content type='html'>A few updates for mah peeps...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend M. is doing well. As well as to be expected. She has received a ton of wonderful things for her new home. She moves in on Tuesday. I am so happy for her. And still at the same time, I just ache for all that was lost. I will keep you all posted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My hubby surprised me this weekend at work. He wasn't supposed to be coming home until possibly next weekend(he has been gone for almost a month!). I was so upset. I cried for two days. It was horrible. Then, on Friday while I am at work, I turn around and there he was. I burst into tears and ran towards him. This would be a perfect time for some cheesy music. So, mah weekend has been a little busy. ;)!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The whole cat barp thing? Yeah, that is from my youngest. The cat left a small horked-up present for me in front of my door last week. I was in a rush to get out the door and hurriedly told the boys to "watch out for cat barf" and it has been madness ever since. Every time we enter/leave our domicile he has to tell everyone to "watch out for cat barp, Mama" in his little boy voice. It is so damn cute. Truly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that about wraps it up. See you peeps on the flip side.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-7410721095487244440?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/7410721095487244440/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=7410721095487244440' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/7410721095487244440'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/7410721095487244440'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/04/still-watching-out-for-cat-barp.html' title='Still Watching Out For Cat Barp....'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-7534671762034165050</id><published>2008-04-22T14:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-22T15:08:08.149-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sad stuff'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='my bff'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Why I Haven't Been Posting... And It Has Nothing To Do With The Ol' Pinky Toe....</title><content type='html'>My friend M. lost everything she had in an apartment fire on Sunday night. The fire destroyed twenty units, including hers. Thankfully, she and her family were completely unharmed. They also had renter's insurance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so upset for her. We haven't been friends for too terribly long. But we just sorta connected. The girl is exactly like me, but with smaller boobs. Her children are the same age as the boys. Her husband is just like my husband. It is almost freaky. But I digress. I am working on finding her things for her house. We have all got together and bought the girls new clothes. My boss bought towels,diapers,socks,underwear,deodorant, and the like. As well as clothes for her and D. I am very grateful to work for such an awesome boss. Very grateful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is doing okay. The girls are fine. She is just so damn scared. I don't blame her. I'm scared for her. I cannot imagine what this must be like for her. I am just doing whatever I can to help out. So if I'm not here for a little bit, then you know why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keep her and her family in your prayers, please.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-7534671762034165050?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/7534671762034165050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=7534671762034165050' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/7534671762034165050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/7534671762034165050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/04/why-i-havent-been-posting-and-it-has.html' title='Why I Haven&apos;t Been Posting... And It Has Nothing To Do With The Ol&apos; Pinky Toe....'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-3957554959117683523</id><published>2008-04-17T17:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-17T17:53:35.941-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Get the Hell Out'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='falling apart'/><title type='text'>Seriously...</title><content type='html'>So. I may and or may not, have broken my right pinky toe. I am fairly certain it cannot be a good sign when said pinky toe is angled out like it's at three'o'clock on my own personal foot timepiece. And it's black and swollen up like a fat,purple grape.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my own opinion. I am not a doctor. Nor do I intend to pay a fourty dollar co-pay for one to tell me it is broken and I am shit outta luck. Because as you know, you can't do jack to fix a *possibly* broken pinky toe. Except maybe have a big,fat glass of vino after having worked on it all day. Jeebus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that is where I am now. It sucks. Thank God I can wear flip-flops. I don't think I could get my poor toe into a real shoe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least not without a helluva lot more vino!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-3957554959117683523?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/3957554959117683523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=3957554959117683523' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/3957554959117683523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/3957554959117683523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/04/seriously.html' title='Seriously...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-2034679491190155474</id><published>2008-04-15T14:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-15T14:49:55.072-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CRAZINESS'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Life is Good...</title><content type='html'>In spite of the recent turmoil of the last few days, life is in fact good. I have many things to be thankful for. I know that. It just seems like I sometimes lose sight of that when things are tough. Note to self.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a glorious day here in the land of cotton. Blue skies, gentle breezes, all that was missing was a white sandy beach and it could of been heaven. Well, that and a big fat margarita. But I digress. I took the boys to the park this afternoon. We had a blast. Fed some ducks, slid down some slides, saw a jet fighter. All in all a most excellent day. Which I needed. And now, after I have mooched dinner from my parent's, I have the great joy of being able to watch my son's t-ball game in about twenty minutes. So I bid you farewell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pinky swear promise to update you all on the goings on im my life over the last few days. It is not a pleasant subject and it is going to be a rather long post. Plus, I am just not even really sure how to begin. Let me at least tell you that I am okay. My children are fine. My husband is fine. I promise, not too much longer. Please be patient.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks y'all. You RAWK.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-2034679491190155474?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/2034679491190155474/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=2034679491190155474' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/2034679491190155474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/2034679491190155474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/04/life-is-good.html' title='Life is Good...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-3388934062851642190</id><published>2008-04-09T08:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-09T08:59:12.572-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CRAZINESS'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='things that REALLY annoy me'/><title type='text'>Question?</title><content type='html'>Can anyone explain why Caillou, who is four, still does not have hair? Because I am stumped. I unfortunately had to watch an episode this morning with Nub and Dub.Believe it or not it was one that I had not seen 36548 times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where was I? Oh yes, in the episode it shows a flashback of his Dad at his age, and here is the kicker- he has a head full of hair. So what happened? Why is that whiny little shit still bald as a billiard ball?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And here is another question for ya. Why in the hell do I really care? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I may need to get out more. Sad, I know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-3388934062851642190?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/3388934062851642190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=3388934062851642190' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/3388934062851642190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/3388934062851642190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/04/question.html' title='Question?'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-5979707580996646552</id><published>2008-04-08T12:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-08T12:21:55.870-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CRAZINESS'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='i heart really bad tv'/><title type='text'>Bah... Part Deux...</title><content type='html'>Have I mentioned how annoyed I am by not having my computer in my own home? What's that you say? Maybe once or twice?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well then, since you claim it's been awhile. Let us bitch about it now. I really HATE not having access to my own damn computer whenever I feel the urge. Which is quite a lot. I hate that my MySpace page is sad and forgotten. I hate the only way I can communicate with all my blog friends is by hurriedly reading their latest post and maybe, just maybe being able to leave a quick comment. But mostly not. I hate that I can't pay bills when I want to. I hate that I can no longer spend naptime surfing the internets for new and fun things that I will spend far too much money and time on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It just sucks. Please know if you are still reading my blog that it will get better soon. And I AM reading your blog. Just maybe not always commenting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I miss you all very much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I am keeping myself very entertained with really bad reality tv. Really bad. So bad I am almost embarassed to admit which shows(yes, plural!!) that I am actually watching. But I will give you a hint. One of them could be bad for your health....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-5979707580996646552?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/5979707580996646552/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=5979707580996646552' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/5979707580996646552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/5979707580996646552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/04/bah-part-deux.html' title='Bah... Part Deux...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-242309372648355832</id><published>2008-04-01T15:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-01T15:43:17.607-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sick girl'/><title type='text'>Two Words...</title><content type='html'>Sick again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Possibly again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unless dead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Damn weather.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-242309372648355832?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/242309372648355832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=242309372648355832' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/242309372648355832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/242309372648355832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/04/two-words.html' title='Two Words...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-2545878102274830194</id><published>2008-03-30T12:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-30T13:01:58.903-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nutty McNutterson'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life Lessons'/><title type='text'>Life Lesson # 8,632...</title><content type='html'>When making your world famous Sweet Potato Souffle DO NOT use colored marshmallows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It looks revolting. Especially the green ones, if you get my drift. It was still amazing. Just a little gross, visually.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all I'm sayin'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you were.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-2545878102274830194?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/2545878102274830194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=2545878102274830194' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/2545878102274830194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/2545878102274830194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/03/life-lesson-8632.html' title='Life Lesson # 8,632...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-1970990770508716688</id><published>2008-03-30T12:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-30T12:35:46.811-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nutty McNutterson'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pollen'/><title type='text'>Bah...</title><content type='html'>The weather here in the South has been completely insane these last few weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tornados, hail the size of tangerines( sadly, that is really not an exaggeration and once I figure out to upload the pictures from my cell phone I will show you!),sunshine one minute, torrential downpours the next, warm weather, cold weather, windy weather and about a bajillion different changes every. day. I cannot take it anymore. My poor sinuses are begging for some sort of reprieve. My body is staging a rebellion even as we speak. I am tired. I need a break. And that is so not gonna happen. I have a busy week ahead of me. Involving a trip to the Social Security office AND the DMV, in the same day. I must be crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I mention that those two trips into the outer realms of hell will be taking place after I visit my OB/GYN to have my IUD removed? Yeah. Good times. Plus, I will be making dinner for my parent's later on that night. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I almost hate to say it, but I am really looking forward to summer. Even if it is hotter than the hammered down hinges of hell. At least there won't be any frickin' pollen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bah. Pollen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-1970990770508716688?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/1970990770508716688/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=1970990770508716688' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/1970990770508716688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/1970990770508716688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/03/bah.html' title='Bah...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-3527629454881963368</id><published>2008-03-25T17:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-25T17:17:28.942-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mumbo-gumbo'/><title type='text'>Give Me Strength...</title><content type='html'>Two cranky toddlers+two short naps= one frustrated Mama.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lord, give me strength. I have about another hour until bedtime. I am not really sure I can make it without pounding on one of their little heads. Or maybe both. At the same time. Yeah, that's the ticket.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;T-ball practice went fairly well. We have our first game on Saturday. We are however the only team who does NOT have our uniform. Seriously. We are supposed to be receiving them on Friday. Go Rockies!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anything new with y'all?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-3527629454881963368?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/3527629454881963368/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=3527629454881963368' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/3527629454881963368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/3527629454881963368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/03/give-me-strength.html' title='Give Me Strength...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-873979841694074179</id><published>2008-03-16T16:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-16T16:54:52.112-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Playdate Alert'/><title type='text'>Our First Playdate, Update...</title><content type='html'>We had Aidan and Quinn's first official playdate today. One of the girls I work with has two daughters who are the same age as the boys. Aidan will be in the same pre-K class as H. So we thought it would be a good idea to let them meet first so they would each know someone before school started in the fall. And I would like to point out that that was an incredibly difficult sentence to type without sobbing like a schoolgirl. But that can be a whole different post!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to the topic at hand. They had the most marvelous time. Another girl that we work with came and brought her seven month old son, B. We all realize that he is still a bit young to be playing with the other kids, but he had fun too! Plus, it was nice for all of us to get out and do something outside of work. It was kinda crazy because we ran into the husband of yet another co-worker, who was there with his brother and their children. That was just too funny. I kept looking for his wife- my other BFF, but she had gone to the store with their new baby girl, Kazooie Jinx. Which is not her real name. But the name I gave her when she was still in the womb. I'll briefly explain. BFF already has three children. The girl's names are all KJ names. So one day at work we grabbed a baby name book and started tossing around KJ names. And Kazooie Jinx was the best one we came up with. Well, Karma Joy was a very close second. So now I call the baby that. I may really need to get out more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The point is we all had fun. And we are definitely going to do it again soon. With our husbands even. And a picnic. Doesn't that sound like fun?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-873979841694074179?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/873979841694074179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=873979841694074179' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/873979841694074179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/873979841694074179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/03/our-first-playdate-update.html' title='Our First Playdate, Update...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-5083771192872071041</id><published>2008-03-13T09:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-13T09:25:38.355-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CRAZINESS'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>The Answer Is Four Days...</title><content type='html'>The question is how many days can I stay with my parent's before going completely insane?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong. I love my parent's. Without them the boys would have been in daycare. Which wasn't something I was ever crazy about. But to have to stay with them whilst my hubby was out of town for four long days is just too much. Way too much. And I am sure they will be more than happy to have their house back. Minus noisy children and a cranky daughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am getting ready to pack all our stuff up now,thankyoujeebus. My husband should be calling any time now. I can't wait to go home. "Will &amp; Grace" is calling my name.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-5083771192872071041?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/5083771192872071041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=5083771192872071041' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/5083771192872071041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/5083771192872071041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/03/answer-is-four-days.html' title='The Answer Is Four Days...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-1343305952260554291</id><published>2008-03-12T17:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-12T18:16:29.782-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Baseball Fevah'/><title type='text'>Spring Is In The Air...</title><content type='html'>Most people when they think of Spring, think of Robin's or Daffodil's...but not me. To me, the first sign of Spring is baseball. When my beloved Braves report to Spring Training.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing beats turning on your radio and hearing Skip Caray's voice after a long winter minus our national pasttime. He is the epitome of baseball to me. I also enjoy listening to his son, Chip. When they are both calling a game it is like a little glimpse of heaven. I was fortunate to be able to hear three generations of Caray's call a game once. It was some years ago, and the Cubbies were in town. All three Caray's sang "Take Me Out To The Ballgame" for the seventh inning stretch. It was one of the coolest moments of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love baseball. I am hopeful every year that this could be our year. I faithfully watch every game. I take my children to as many games as I can. To me, baseball is so much more than just a sport. It is a large part of who I am. My family has always loved baseball. My grandma bled Dodger Blue. So did we, for the longest time. Even after moving to Georgia. And then we found ourselves watching and rooting for the Braves. And a new tradition began. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember the first time my parent's took us to a Braves game. It was at Fulton County Stadium. It was amazing. Being there in person to see an actual game is just beyond compare. We ate a ton of junk food, drank a million cokes and had the time of our lives. I no longer remember who won that particular game, but knowing how we played back then it is doubtful it was the Braves! But that didn't matter, it was about being together. It was the first of many games for us as a family. And one of the first things I looked forward to after finding out I was pregnant for the first time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so it begins. A new tradition. My children love baseball, love going to The Ted, love eating Braves dogs. And that to me is worth more than just about anything in all the world. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So bring on the arrival of Spring. And all that it means.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Batter up!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-1343305952260554291?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/1343305952260554291/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=1343305952260554291' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/1343305952260554291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/1343305952260554291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/03/spring-is-in-air.html' title='Spring Is In The Air...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-6803169753329438608</id><published>2008-03-11T13:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-11T14:07:31.728-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CRAZINESS'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='house things'/><title type='text'>God Save Me From Cranky Two Year Olds...</title><content type='html'>I don't believe my youngest child woke up on the right side of the bed this morning. I can't really be sure because I was on my way to work when the waking up part of this program took place. But I am here now. And let me just tell you that Captain Pissy is alive and well, and definitely in the building.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He also has not taken his afternoon nap. I completely blame my parent's. They are way too permissive. Not that I am bitter, but, I was never allowed to do even an eighth of the things these two hellions,er darlings, do. Seriously. It makes me crazy. So now I have one child who is my sweet baboo, and another who is the devil incarnate. And I am spending another night at my parent's house. What swell news.The power is supposed to be on in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so ready to be home in my own big ol' bed. With a big,fat glass of wine. And some "Will &amp; Grace". My idea of heaven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-6803169753329438608?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/6803169753329438608/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=6803169753329438608' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/6803169753329438608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/6803169753329438608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/03/god-save-me-from-cranky-two-year-olds.html' title='God Save Me From Cranky Two Year Olds...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-7789735741217991090</id><published>2008-03-10T22:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-10T22:20:01.212-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CRAZINESS'/><title type='text'>No Power For You!</title><content type='html'>Wanna guess what this one is about?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am spending the night with my parent's. Well, the boys are too. It is interesting to say the least. I haven't spent the night under my parent's roof in over five years. My mom keeps asking if I want anything, or telling me where things are. It is actually kinda cracking me up. She is a nut. I can deal with it. It is only for the night. Our power should be restored by tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please. I can't sleep on that bed another night. Plus? I don't get to watch "Frasier" and "Will&amp;Grace", which totally sucks. Instead I am being forced to watch "Nancy Grace". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Help me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-7789735741217991090?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/7789735741217991090/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=7789735741217991090' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/7789735741217991090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/7789735741217991090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/03/no-power-for-you.html' title='No Power For You!'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-8947655233019047105</id><published>2008-03-09T15:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-09T16:00:22.776-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CRAZINESS'/><title type='text'>Tweaking...</title><content type='html'>Please don't be alarmed if you don't see yourself on my blogroll. I just added those three and now it's time for dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fried chicken. Biscuits. Gravy. Mmmmmmm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will be fixing it shortly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-8947655233019047105?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/8947655233019047105/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=8947655233019047105' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/8947655233019047105'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/8947655233019047105'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/03/tweaking.html' title='Tweaking...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-708256725082877230</id><published>2008-03-09T15:56:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-09T15:57:55.523-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Honey'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='things that REALLY annoy me'/><title type='text'>The One Where I Have To Hurry...</title><content type='html'>Hubs NEEDS to watch "Lost". Needs to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now I don't get to write an entry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meany Head.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-708256725082877230?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/708256725082877230/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=708256725082877230' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/708256725082877230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/708256725082877230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/03/one-where-i-have-to-hurry.html' title='The One Where I Have To Hurry...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-811221649896650034</id><published>2008-03-05T09:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T10:18:02.305-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Falcons stuff'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='FOOTBALL'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Geaux Saints'/><title type='text'>I No Longer Heart The Falcons...</title><content type='html'>I can put up with a lot of things. Losing seasons. Embarassing, not to mention illegal, dog-fighting charges( and also just wrong and horribly cruel to those poor dogs, but that's a whole 'nother story.), and general jackass behavior.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But what I cannot put up with is the loss of one of our most beloved players. For NO GOOD REASON. Warrick Dunn was "released" from the Atlanta Falcons. One of our top players. A fan favorite for years. A true gentleman, on and off the field. And consistently one of our best players. This came on the heels of the loss of Alge Crumpler and Rod "The Bod" Coleman. I am flabbergasted. Betrayed. Bewildered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I will no longer be rooting for the Falcons. I will be switching my allegiance to the Saints. Which oughta make my friend Wordnerd pretty happy! No, seriously. I have always been a Saints fan. Made even more so of one by the arrival of my beloved Reggie Bush(USC,natch!). This year promises to be quite exciting. I am ready. I will be purchasing myself and the boys some t-shirts and we will be watching. And rooting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Geaux Saints!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-811221649896650034?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/811221649896650034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=811221649896650034' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/811221649896650034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/811221649896650034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/03/i-no-longer-heart-falcons.html' title='I No Longer Heart The Falcons...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-1856053204752683442</id><published>2008-03-03T10:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-03T10:22:25.729-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sick girl'/><title type='text'>The Flu Of Death...</title><content type='html'>Or maybe I should have titled it "Grim Reaper Take Me Now".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt fine allllll week.I woke up on Friday, excpecting to go about my day. And Blammo. The Flu of Death had struck. Not just me, but also my sweet bebe Aidan. Thank God Jimmy stayed home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I won't lie. It was bad. I can't ever remember being that sick before. I had a fever for two days. I hallucinated monkeys. I am still a little shaky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aidan is fine. So is Quinn. Jimmy? Yeah, he is about a day behind me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pray none of you catches this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-1856053204752683442?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/1856053204752683442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=1856053204752683442' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/1856053204752683442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/1856053204752683442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/03/flu-of-death.html' title='The Flu Of Death...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-7391314803877420307</id><published>2008-02-27T16:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-27T16:45:26.856-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mumbo-gumbo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CRAZINESS'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dale Jr.'/><title type='text'>The One With All The Cheery-ness...</title><content type='html'>I am sick of my own gloom and doom lately. So let us coverse about cheery things. Fun things. Happy things. Mmkay?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Numero Uno-&lt;br /&gt;The Aidan begins t-ball practice this week. Squeeeeee! We are doing the Upward program through our church. I am so jazzed. He is ready. He is so excited to be able to finally play baseball. I promise to post a picture of him in his uniform as soon as possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two- &lt;br /&gt;I have begun my drawing's for my garden's. To scale. Front and back yards. Yes, I am that anal. I love knowing exactly where everything is. I love to be able to refer to my drawing's at any time. It is a sickness. Get over it. I am having to use my drawing's because it is too damn cold here to do anything else. Which sucks. I am so ready to get out into my yard. I find gardening incredibly theraputic. Being unable to really do anything is quite frustrating. Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tres-&lt;br /&gt;NASCAR has begun. My boyfriend has done okay. Well, not in California. But his new uniform is pretty hot. He is pretty hot. What was I talking about?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four-&lt;br /&gt;The Aidan was telling me this morning that he would be going to haunted houses this Halloween. And in these haunted houses there would be "lot's of boovy traps". I am still laughing. Boovy traps. Where does the kid get this stuff?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See, I can be cheery. I haven't forgotten how.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't worry. I am fine. And I will be fine. I'm tough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ya gotta be tough when you're dumb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry. It is a funny thing one of the men who used to work for my father would say. It has always made me laugh. I though it mught make y'all smile.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-7391314803877420307?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/7391314803877420307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=7391314803877420307' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/7391314803877420307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/7391314803877420307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/02/one-with-all-cheery-ness.html' title='The One With All The Cheery-ness...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-7719238649868264158</id><published>2008-02-25T10:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-25T10:28:10.489-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CRAZINESS'/><title type='text'>The One I Don't Know How To Write About...</title><content type='html'>There are some things going on in my personal life that I alluded to once before. Possibly during NaBloPoMo, but I won't swear to it. The point is that they are back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realize I am being all cryptic. I don't mean to. I just can't really talk about it. Yet.I am shocked and so incredibly saddened that sometimes I can barely breathe. I am disappointed that I believed this person to have finally changed. To have truly put the past aside and grown up. Instead I find out this person is an abusive asshole. And that this person is pulling the same old shit yet again. But this time with a fun ,new little twist. And I am not really sure what to do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Part of me wants to just tell this person to fuck off. I don't need this drama in my life. And an admittedly smaller part wants to try and help. I don't know if I am strong enough right now, emotionally. I am tired. Plus, with the whole trying to have a baby thing- I just don't need this kind of negativity. So I don't know what to do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find myself wanting to help the person this affecting more. And that in of itself is a problem. Bah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now that I have thoroughly confused everyone, I have to go to work. Bah.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-7719238649868264158?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/7719238649868264158/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=7719238649868264158' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/7719238649868264158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/7719238649868264158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/02/one-i-dont-know-how-to-write-about.html' title='The One I Don&apos;t Know How To Write About...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-5079527430994719890</id><published>2008-02-21T15:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-21T15:23:46.078-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bebe&apos;s'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby fevah'/><title type='text'>April Fool's...</title><content type='html'>So. April 1st I have a doctor's appointment. With my OB/GYN. To have my IUD removed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's right, Project Pleaseletitbeagirl will be off with a bang. Er, you know what I mean. Dirty girls. I am beyond excited. We can begin discussing babies any time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you know that also means  baby names. My favorite thing evah. I am almost positive I have found my names. But you never know. I'm leaning towards Delaney for a girl and Liam for a boy. I have given up on Finn. It's too Dr. Suess-y with Quinn. Feel free to let me know any opinions you all may have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me tell you I am already looking at crib sets, cribs, travel systems,cradle swings, maternity clothes, I am sure you are getting the idea here! I do realize it may take awhile for me to become pregnant, then again maybe not. I have just been wanting to be pregnant again for so long that even the small step of calling my doctor's office is incredibly thrilling. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've got it bad. Baby Fevah. Sigh. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will keep y'all informed. Not TMI informed, just generally informed!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wish me luck. And send me some positive baby girl vibes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-5079527430994719890?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/5079527430994719890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=5079527430994719890' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/5079527430994719890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/5079527430994719890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/02/april-fools.html' title='April Fool&apos;s...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-7578441904361857187</id><published>2008-02-18T09:54:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-18T10:20:11.109-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mumbo-gumbo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bubba'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny things'/><title type='text'>Mumbo Gumbo...</title><content type='html'>Yesterday was such an awesome day. Even though my boyfriend did NOT win the Daytona 500. He came in 9th, for those of you who care. I was just excited that Tony Stewart lost in the final lap. Mean, I know. But I despise him with the fire of a thousand suns. We made a ton of snacky-snacks and just pigged out all day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was rockin'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just got off the phone with my Bubba, he had left a message earlier telling me he had a funny story involving hard boiled eggs. Naturally, I was intrigued. Food stories are always excellent. He tells me that when he got home last night he wanted a little somethin'-somethin'. He settled on egg salad. Simple, quick. It wasn't until he started it that he realized his propane was off. Landlord issues. Anyhoo. His eggs were also a few days past the sell by date. So he gets the idea to boil them IN.THE.MICROWAVE. FOR TWELVE MINUTES. By this time I am completely hysterical. He is all smug and congratulating himself on his genius when the microwave goes off. He proceeds to remove the eggs from the water and crack on on the yolk side to see if it's done. He notices it's a little dark and thinks maybe he didn't cook the eggs long enough. So he starts to crack it in earnest and the egg explodes. Literally explodes. It was rotten. He has bits of rotten egg and shells everywhere. Including the ceiling.  Tears are pouring down my face. I can absolutely picture every single thing he has just described to me. Hysterical.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bet he won't be eating egg salad anytime soon!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One more thing. I watched The Food Network last night. Big mistake. It always makes me hungry. It was a recipe contest for chicken. Yum. The winner was a whole roasted chicken with yucca fries. How good does that sound? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My next post will be about Baby Fevah. I got's it bad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-7578441904361857187?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/7578441904361857187/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=7578441904361857187' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/7578441904361857187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/7578441904361857187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/02/mumbo-gumbo.html' title='Mumbo Gumbo...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-2029350472191242859</id><published>2008-02-14T14:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-14T15:42:19.096-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CRAZINESS'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Get the Hell Out'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dale Jr.'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='worky-work stuff'/><title type='text'>The One About The Work Drama...</title><content type='html'>Ye Gods, was there ever drama. We are talking about one crazy bunch o' bitches. And it wasn't just me, it was everyone. Even poor P. had a bad day, customer wise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The week began innocently enough. And then BAM!- straight outta nowhere it went to hell in a handbasket. One of my last buys was a very difficult woman. I work in children's re-sale, and am in fact the afternoon buyer/supervisor. She was a real piece of work. I would think it would be rather obvious that we would be unable to take clothing with spots/stains/etc. Apparently not. I began giving her back items that we would not be accepting. She became quite pissy. And actually argued with me and made me point out where these "alleged" spots were, and then argued with me that they weren't even spots. And kept arguing. And arguing. And then came back a few minutes later to argue some more. Then she made sure to tell me that she "would be calling the owners immediately to inform them of the unspeakable way in which she was treated". I told her to absolutely do so, that I would be calling them myself to let them know what happened. And then I went back to buying my last buy. I will be damned if that bitch did not come back in for a third time to argue with me some more. Seriously. So the lady whose last buy I am doing has been there the entire time, she heard everything that was said. She tells me to write down her name and phone number so I can give it to my boss', should they need it, because I was not rude to the woman in any way and she would be more than happy to tell them that on my behalf. Twenty minutes later the phone rings, it is the woman's husband. He wants to inform me that his lawyer will be contacting the store about a lawsuit they will be pursuing against me for "racial discrimination" for the way I treated his wife. I can't make this stuff up. I told him in no uncertain terms that I did not treat his wife in any disrespectful way and he started yelling at me. So I hung up on him. I have never heard what happened next. I am guessing nothing. My boss' are pretty laid back. We have all known each other for awhile, and they know I am not that kind of person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wait, it gets better. The next day I am at work, doing another buy, and I can't take any of it. It reeks of smoke. I explain to the woman that I will be happy to take another look at it if she will just wash it and bring it back. She doesn't seem too upset when she leaves. Twenty minutes later the phone rings. (Anyone seeing any sort of patterns here?!) This lady asks me the name of "the large fat woman who works there". I am so dumbfounded that someone could actually say something so cruel that it takes me a few minutes to realize she means me. I was blown away. I wanted to cry. I didn't. But I wanted to. Yes, I have put on some extra pounds in the last few years. Yes, there are valid reasons why I am not really losing weight right now. Is it anyone else's business(not y'all- y'all can ask me anything. I love you) what my reasons are? No. But I will tell you this. I can and will lose my weight. But you will always be a mean bitch. So there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there was the lady who was pissed off because we couldn't take all of her stuff. And she wanted it all back. Which we couldn't do. Her husband had dropped it off on Saturday and didn't want to wait. So it was done a s a Drop-Off. Meaning he had to pre-approve the offer without knowing what it was. And read the info and INITIAL it. Um, yeah. I don't think he did that. So she gets all bitchy and basically tells me "well we'll just see about this". Twenty minutes later the phone rings. I do not answer it because I have learned my lesson. Wanna guess who it was?! Her husband. And before I tell you what he said, what is it with all these women who have to have their husbands call and complain? If I have a problem with someone I take care of it myself. So he is all up in arms because his precious wifey-poo is upset. One other note- her clothes? Butt-ass ugly. That poor child is gonna be scarred for life. Truly. He informs me that "this is no way to run a business" and if "it was his business he damn sure would make sure that the customer was happy" and that he and his wife "were important people in the community and we would be soory if we didn't fix this". Yeah, whatever. I asked him if he signed the paper when he was doing the Drop-Off. He said yes. But he was confused as to what our policy was. Wha? Why would you leave your stuff with a store if you didn't know how they operated? I wouldn't. But I guess that would be because I am not a GIANT DUMBASS. I'm still waiting to hear what's going to happen with that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rest of the week has gone quite well. We've laughed. We've scratched. We've cried. Good times. No really, all kidding aside, it was a vast improvement from the last few days. Sweet Jebus. I am glad to be off for the next two days. Crap. One day. But my beloved Daytona 500 is this weekend. GO #88! And speaking of Jr. my hubs gave me my Valentine's Day present- a new Dale Jr. t-shirt! Can I get a WOOT-WOOT?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, really. Can I have one? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One more thing- was it worth the wait?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-2029350472191242859?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/2029350472191242859/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=2029350472191242859' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/2029350472191242859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/2029350472191242859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/02/one-about-work-drama.html' title='The One About The Work Drama...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-5195706916267872719</id><published>2008-02-11T13:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-11T13:19:25.883-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CRAZINESS'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='worky-work stuff'/><title type='text'>Bah.</title><content type='html'>Okay, maybe not quite two weeks. It is a small possibility that it could maybe be a teeny,tiny bit longer until I am back full time. Maybe more like March. Maybe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know. I know. It is painful for me too. I miss you all so. I miss being able to get on my computer whenever I want. Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be patient with me. I promise the work stories alone will be soooooo worth it. And that will be my very next post. On Thursday. From work. About work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eh? Sound good? No? Anyone?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-5195706916267872719?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/5195706916267872719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=5195706916267872719' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/5195706916267872719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/5195706916267872719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/02/bah.html' title='Bah.'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-3804533939917843147</id><published>2008-02-07T15:31:00.003-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-07T15:38:48.036-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CRAZINESS'/><title type='text'>Who knew?</title><content type='html'>Nobody likes the sex talk,eh?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S'Okay. I wasn't all that crazy talking about it anyway. I felt I should post something and that was kinda all I had. My internets will be back sometime in the next two weeks, like actually at my house. I will be back full time. I know, I can hardly wait!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With non-sexual posts. Maybe. I have a ton of new ideas for posts, just no time. I feel weird blogging at my parent's house. I have no idea why. Call me crazy. I hope all of you are well. I do miss you so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, Dude- remind me to tell y'all all the super-fun things that have been going on at work lately. It's been a peach of a time. No, really.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-3804533939917843147?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/3804533939917843147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=3804533939917843147' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/3804533939917843147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/3804533939917843147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/02/who-knew.html' title='Who knew?'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-1387461965509517914</id><published>2008-01-27T09:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-27T10:08:28.377-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nutty McNutterson'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Honey'/><title type='text'>No Nookie for you...</title><content type='html'>If anyone is uncomfortable with the subject of sex, then now is the time to leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still here? Okay, don't say I didn't warn you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am hardly ever in the mood for sex. There, I said it. My husband is begining to feel resentful. Okay,okay, he is pissed off and acting like an asshole. To which I say "pllllllllttttt". I am tired. I am working about thirty hours a week. Plus, the housework, cooking dinner, taking care of children, etc. To hear my husband tell it you would think I was sitting around in a slinky negligee, eating bon-bons, whilst some hunky man is fanning me with a palm frond. Get real.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong, I like sex. Our sex life before we had children was fabulous. TMI? It's still wonderful, but I am just exhausted most of the time. Methinks a vacation is in order. A grown-ups only vacation. Hint-Hint.(I don't know why I am hinting, you all know what I mean!!!). We will have to just wait and see. In the meantime, I am just going to have to give it up. Anybody got any ideas to rekindle the romance,so to speak?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now I have to head back to the old house. My bon-bons are calling my name.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-1387461965509517914?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/1387461965509517914/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=1387461965509517914' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/1387461965509517914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/1387461965509517914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/01/no-nookie-for-you.html' title='No Nookie for you...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-1832215615192485139</id><published>2008-01-25T14:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T15:32:20.848-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='HOLIDAYS'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ME'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CRAZINESS'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='MRSA'/><title type='text'>And here we go...</title><content type='html'>I guess I will begin where I left off, with the MRSA update. And then go on from there. And here we go...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband has made a full recovery, thankyoujesus. It was superscary and I am beyond glad to be done with it. Y'all, please pay careful attention to any infection you may have. Take it seriously. See your doctor. For me. I beg you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My holidays were pretty awesome. My brother flew in from Colorado, with his new girlfriend. I HEART HER. Seriously. I foresee her becoming my sister-in-law someday. She sure beats the hell out of the last bitch,er girlfriend, he had. It was the first time we had seen each other in almost two years. I cried. He knew I would. It was good. We talk on the phone about twice a week. I'm happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work has been kinda crappy. I don't really want to get into that now. It is a whole 'nother entry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And on a really sad note, I lost a good friend last weekend. She hung herself for reasons I will never know. I miss her. We were roommates for a year. We had such fun together. She was crazy as hell. And would do anything for a friend. I choose to remember her in that way. Because to do anything less would be wrong. I plan on writing a post about her in the near future. I have to. I need to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now you are all caught up on the goings on in my life. Or most of them. Our computer is at my parent's house for now. I will still be online, just not as often. Which totally SUCKS! But is only temporary, I assure you. Thank you for all your thoughts and prayers. I appreciate them more than you will ever know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-1832215615192485139?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/1832215615192485139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=1832215615192485139' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/1832215615192485139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/1832215615192485139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/01/and-here-we-go.html' title='And here we go...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-4310996024439333773</id><published>2008-01-22T17:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-22T17:55:43.797-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CRAZINESS'/><title type='text'>I KNOW, I KNOW...</title><content type='html'>Only have a second, we are fine. I will be back in the morning to catch up with everyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks guys, for everything.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-4310996024439333773?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/4310996024439333773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=4310996024439333773' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/4310996024439333773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/4310996024439333773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2008/01/i-know-i-know.html' title='I KNOW, I KNOW...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-663126424245068469</id><published>2007-12-16T21:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-16T21:33:09.647-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Honey'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CRAZINESS'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='MRSA'/><title type='text'>M.I.A.....</title><content type='html'>Sorry y'all. This last weekend was a doozy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband developed an abscess on an unusual part of his anatomy. Oh fine. It was on his ass. Are you happy now? Back to the story. He started running a low grade fever late Friday night. We went to the ER on Saturday afternoon. It wasn't good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He has MRSA. They are fairly certain they got it early enough. I will spare you the details. You can thank me later. He is taking three antibiotics and percocet. We go back to the doctor tomorrow to have the packing removed. And then back again on Wednesday. After that, he should be fine. Thank God. I have never been so scared in my life. And beat. Emotional upheavals really kick my ass. I'll be back tomorrow with news of his condition.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you believe in prayer, please say one for us now. Thank you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-663126424245068469?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/663126424245068469/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=663126424245068469' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/663126424245068469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/663126424245068469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2007/12/mia.html' title='M.I.A.....'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-1681319446166301891</id><published>2007-12-13T21:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-14T07:14:16.258-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>I'm back...</title><content type='html'>These last few days have been okay. I have missed you all more than I can say. I have felt your kind words, and kept them close to my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;December 12, 2006 my grandma died unexpectedly during surgery. We are still not exactly sure what happened a year later. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss her every day. Not only for myself, but for the boys as well. She was crazy about Aidan and Quinn. I still pick up the phone to call her and tell her some new thing one of them has done. It is hard. But I am getting better. Having the boys takes my mind off of it. And shopping for Christmas. I know it will get easier with time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this first Christmas without her has been difficult for all of us.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-1681319446166301891?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/1681319446166301891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=1681319446166301891' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/1681319446166301891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/1681319446166301891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2007/12/im-back.html' title='I&apos;m back...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-6559445347181889758</id><published>2007-12-10T08:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-10T08:07:36.456-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Untitled...</title><content type='html'>Hey y'all. I am going to take a break from posting for a few days. Nothing is wrong, well nothing physical anyway. This is just a very difficult time for me and my family right now. And I am just so very sad. I will be back in a few days. Don't worry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-6559445347181889758?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/6559445347181889758/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=6559445347181889758' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/6559445347181889758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/6559445347181889758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2007/12/untitled.html' title='Untitled...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-794740182156511769</id><published>2007-12-08T21:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-08T22:05:05.429-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Babe-ah'/><title type='text'>Tonight, I'll kick The Footlights Out Again...</title><content type='html'>Ahh, the story. About my babe-ah. The one thing I have been meaning to talk about, and just couldn't. Because it was always too painful a story to tell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My babe-ah. Bobby. He loved LSU. Cigars. Beer. Wine. And my mama's Swedish Meatballs. He was this big,amazing man. He was my teddy bear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He loved to tell the story of how we first met. He said I was a huge bitch, I said he was a dick. It was love at first sight. He took me under his wing. Taught me everything I know. About life. About wine. He taught me that you do what needs to be done to make your customer's happy. PERIOD. If that means going out and getting them a Dr. Pepper, then you do that. And your tip will reflect that. And that you always try to make them feel important. Like they are your only table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then there was the night I got my heart broke into a million frickin' pieces. He was there. He took me out and got me really shit-faced. Because that was all he knew how to do, that was the only way he knew how to help me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And he was so much more than that. There is a picture of him that I will always regret not having. We used to do a ChildKind Dinner, at LunaSi. There was this beautiful child, being held by Bobby. And the absolute joy on both of their faces, was something I could never even hope to replicate. And that was Bobby. That was always who he was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was killed by a drunk-driver. It was a hit-and-run. I would like to think it was instant. That he didn't suffer. I need to know that. For my own selfish reasons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because he didn't deserve any less.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-794740182156511769?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/794740182156511769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=794740182156511769' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/794740182156511769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/794740182156511769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2007/12/tonight-ill-kick-footlights-again.html' title='Tonight, I&apos;ll kick The Footlights Out Again...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-187384428964488556</id><published>2007-12-06T08:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-06T08:44:05.103-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='FOOTBALL'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='GO TROJANS'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='band geek'/><title type='text'>The Rose Bowl Awaits...</title><content type='html'>I know, I know. I should have posted this on Sunday. Or really even Saturday night. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I am very excited to be going to the Rose Bowl. It is a personal favorite of mine. I also love the parade. I get up and watch it every year. No matter what. It's tradition. This year will be more kick-ass than usual due to the world's most bitchin' band, who will be marching in the parade. I love marching bands. Yes. I am that geeky. To take it one step further, I was IN the marching band in high school. I played clarinet. I was cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's funny to look back on it now. But being in the band was so much fun. Most of my adult friendships are with people from band. We were a pretty close knit group. Still are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So laugh all you want. It won't bother me a bit. I am proud to have been a member of the Alexander High School Marching Cougars. We rawked.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-187384428964488556?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/187384428964488556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=187384428964488556' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/187384428964488556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/187384428964488556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2007/12/rose-bowl-awaits.html' title='The Rose Bowl Awaits...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-2619661216313057851</id><published>2007-12-04T07:24:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-04T07:33:25.573-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='worst book evah list'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Read This'/><title type='text'>Read This! First Book Review...</title><content type='html'>A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry. I have spent two and a half weeks trying to read this book. Or at least finish the damn thing. I don't like it. I find it annoying and very strange. I am also shocked that it won a Pulitzer. And slightly confused as to where all the "comedy" is? Wha? There is actual comedy in the book? Is it at the end? 'Cause I am not getting to it anytime soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am very disappointed with this book. It will be joining a very short list of books that I could not finish. Have still not finished. If you knew just how much I loved to read, you would understand why this pains me so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1- The Secret Life of Bees- I am nowhere near finishing it.&lt;br /&gt;2- She's Come Undone- Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;3- Quite a Year For Plums- One of the worst books I have ever attempted to read. Ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me know what y'all thought about it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-2619661216313057851?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/2619661216313057851/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=2619661216313057851' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/2619661216313057851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/2619661216313057851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2007/12/read-this-first-book-review.html' title='Read This! First Book Review...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-4895543736366945566</id><published>2007-12-02T20:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-02T21:39:00.407-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='HOLIDAYS'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grams'/><title type='text'>Misty, Water-Colored Memories...</title><content type='html'>God. I don't even know where to begin. I love Christmas, and all that it entails. The promise of a new year. Fresh beginings. A time to be spent with family. So today, I would like to tell you about my Grandma Harler.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman was a nut. She had the most amazing gift of being able to talk to anyone, anytime, anywhere, anyplace. She made friends wherever she went. She never met a stranger. Ever. She would welcome you with open arms. I was in awe of her. My mother is like that. In so many ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grandma always had projects. She helped with a senatorial campaign. She worked tirelessly in her church. They published a cookbook the year before last. She sent me a copy. Which only included one recipe from her. I still find that odd, because she was a good cook. I cherish that cookbook. She did so very many things. For so many organizations. There are too many to name. She believed in helping her fellow man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was very religous. But she was fair. "Judge not, lest ye be judged" was a favorite of hers. And she lived her life that way. She tried to help anyone that needed it. Be it a kind word, or a home-cooked meal. She was never preachy. She just loved God, and was never ashamed to let you know it. She wanted to share the joy that it had given her. In whatever way she could.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And she was dingy. The first example that comes to mind is Cracker Barrel. She came out to visit when I graduated from high school. My parent's took her there for lunch. She loved it. She would tell anyone who would listen about going to the Crack Box for lunch. It still makes me smile to think about that. She was forever calling things by the wrong name. It was always a running family joke. And don't even get me started about her driving skills!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And there are so many more memories I have. She came out to help my mom after my last knee surgery. Quinn was only six months old. I found a picture the other day that made me cry. In it you can see Quinn, and only her hands. I love that picture more than words can say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She passed away almost a year ago, this month. The week before Christmas. I miss her every day. I did my Christmas cards tonight, and it was really sad. This first year has been incredibly difficult. I talked to her at least once a week. It was hard to give that up. She was my rock. I know that she is watching over me. Us. But it is still not the same. She loved her great-grandchildren, if possible, more than she loved us. I know she is proud of them. I just wish she were here to see them. She would be so excited. She loved to take their pictures to church, and display them for everyone to see. We are talking 11 by 13 pictures. Not wallets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I would like for all of you to hug your loved one's close. Be thankful for what you have. Enjoy your holiday season. And never take them for granted.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-4895543736366945566?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/4895543736366945566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=4895543736366945566' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/4895543736366945566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/4895543736366945566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2007/12/misty-water-colored-memories.html' title='Misty, Water-Colored Memories...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-8516411252368523581</id><published>2007-12-01T12:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-01T12:25:47.451-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='NaBloPoMo'/><title type='text'>48...</title><content type='html'>I only made it to fourty-eight. Too bad, so sad. There is always next year!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all I really am quite proud of myself. I am loving my new button, too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See ya on the flip side, my peeps.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-8516411252368523581?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/8516411252368523581/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=8516411252368523581' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/8516411252368523581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/8516411252368523581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2007/12/48.html' title='48...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-5757469704724298169</id><published>2007-11-30T13:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-30T14:19:51.899-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='HIMYF'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='NaBloPoMo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Honey'/><title type='text'>Thanks For The Memories...</title><content type='html'>Wow. It is official. I posted for thirty days straight. Sometimes more than once. I am so proud of myself for sticking with it. It was hard. I won't lie to you. But I did it. My final NaBloPoMo post is going to be about how I met my husband. I figure he deserves it since I am always ragging on the poor guy. So Honey, this one's for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My little brother actually knew him first. They went to Bill Arp Elementary School together. Jeff went on to Fairplay and Jimmy moved to Detroit. They met up again their senior year of high school. And then didn't see each other for years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the mean time, I grew up. My brother and I had always been close friends and we used to hang out with this same group of friends. God, the fun we had. One of our friends worked in the kitchen of Taco Mac. His name was Eric. We used to always go up to the Mac on Friday and Saturday nights after we got off work. Jeff and I were working at Alpine together then. Anyway, we would all get together and drink and be rowdy and just have fun. It amazes me to this day how long it took for Jimmy and I to actually meet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One night I noticed Eric seemed upset. I went up to the bar and asked him if he was okay. He wasn't. He told me his brother was in the hospital and he didn't know any more details. Everyone was pretty somber that night. We didn't see him for a few days. The next weekend he was back and let us all know that his brother was fine, and had moved in with him for a little while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About two weeks later, after a late night, we all went back to Eric and John's apartment to hang out and play cards. I walked in the door and almost died. There was the hottest guy sitting on the couch reading Harry Potter. I was terribly nervous. I don't remember what I said to him, but I am sure it was something really dumb. He barely even said two words back. It was Jimmy, Eric's brother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the next few weeks we would hang out more and more at their house. And it was always my idea. I would try desperately to get him to talk to me. One night we came back to their apartment and there was this girl there. My heart literally stopped. I was so crushed. It was his ex-girlfriend, I found out later. You would never have known it from the way she acted. She was an evil bitch, but that is a whole different post. We finally started talking, and one thing led to another. And we hooked up. I am not terribly proud of myself for that. But it is the truth. That was right around Thanksgiving of that year. We saw each other a few times and then nothing. For like a week. I was confused. I was at work one night talking to a girlfriend about where the "relationship" was going, and I didn't know if he was the one, blah,blah,blah, and one of the girls came up to me and told me there was someone here to see me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember wondering who it could be. I walked down the ramp towards the host stand, and there stood Jimmy. With a dozen roses in his hands. They were a pale cream color with blush tips. My favorite roses. I don't know how he knew that because I generally don't care for roses. I am more of a daisy girl. But he did, and I still have them to this day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He explained that he had been sick. He wasn't sure where we were going yet either, but he would like to find out. Our first date was at Sweetwater Park. We walked and talked for hours. It was the best date of my life. We both decided not to see other people. Which was fine by me. I was sick of dating by then. I was ready to be with him. And only him, for the rest of my life. I knew he was the one and had known it in my heart all along.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Six months later we were married at Sweetwater Park. Surrounded by our family and friends. It was the best day of my life. The luckiest day of my life. And a choice I have never once regretted making.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-5757469704724298169?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/5757469704724298169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=5757469704724298169' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/5757469704724298169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/5757469704724298169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2007/11/thanks-for-memories.html' title='Thanks For The Memories...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-7687832988812112501</id><published>2007-11-29T08:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-29T17:16:23.519-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='NaBloPoMo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Honey'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='things that REALLY annoy me'/><title type='text'>Things You Shouldn't Have To Tell Your Husband When You Have Been Married For Five Years, Or Possibly EVER...</title><content type='html'>* When taking our children out of the house, please dress them appropriately for the weather conditions. For example, if it is cold and damp, please make sure they are at the very least wearing pants of some sort. And a shirt.Mmmkay?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* When their training pants are trailing the ground, it is probably time to change them. Or better yet, why weren't YOU taking them potty? They don't train themselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* When you are bringing them in from the car, please remember to bring in their damn cups. Please. I am begging you on this one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* When you are washing clothes, please put the powder in FIRST and let it sit there for a second BEFORE you stuff the clothes in,thankyouverymuch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* PLEASE STOP LETTING THE BOYS EAT IN THE LIVING ROOM. YOU ARE NOT THE ONE WHO WILL BE CLEANING THE DAMN CARPET. AGAIN.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* No scary movies when the boys are awake. EVER. Even if you say " What? This is NOT scary". Yes, it is. They are two and four.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* When I finally get to watch tv, quit playing the Wacker Game whilst I am trying to watch football. Or I will kill you dead. There are three other rooms for you all to play in. A deck. And a backyard. Pick one and go there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Quit piling the trash on an already over-flowing garbage can. TAKE IT OUT ALREADY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I believe this ends our session for today! Happy Thursday, Everybody!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Edited to add: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Why must you park as far away as possible when there is a perfectly good spot right in front?!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-7687832988812112501?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/7687832988812112501/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=7687832988812112501' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/7687832988812112501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/7687832988812112501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2007/11/things-you-shouldnt-have-to-tell-your.html' title='Things You Shouldn&apos;t Have To Tell Your Husband When You Have Been Married For Five Years, Or Possibly EVER...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-1904781650288093255</id><published>2007-11-28T09:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-28T09:26:17.317-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='100th Post'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='NaBloPoMo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CRAZINESS'/><title type='text'>100th Post!!!</title><content type='html'>Thank you. But the credit definitely goes to NaBloPoMo. Which has been a blast. I will definitely be signing up for it next year. I feel like I have learned a lot. I am still relatively new to the blogging world. There are a ton of things I still don't know how to do. I am just taking it one step at a time. I like learning new things. Who doesn't?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sad to see the end of Novemeber coming, and with it NaBloPoMo. If only for the typing of the name. Kidding. I really HAVE enjoyed being a part of this group of bloggers. I feel like it has made me a little more structured in my writing. I also like how I am sitting down and writing every day. Even if it is only short posts. Writing is writing. And look ma, I'm doin' it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a ton of ides for posts. Bright orange sticky-notes, patiently waiting to be chosen. So here is my vow to you. I will use at least one a week. I will continue to post every day, even if it's only small stuff. I like how I feel when I do that. I also like that I have reader's. Actual READER'S! Plural, even! I have met some great new friend's and I am very grateful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank You, NaBloPoMo. I look forward to being a part of you next year.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-1904781650288093255?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/1904781650288093255/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=1904781650288093255' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/1904781650288093255'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/1904781650288093255'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2007/11/100th-post.html' title='100th Post!!!'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-2537997567870175724</id><published>2007-11-27T06:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-27T06:58:07.185-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='HOLIDAYS'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='NaBloPoMo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pink Pig'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nub AND Dub'/><title type='text'>Pink Pig, Here We Come!</title><content type='html'>We have lived in Georgia for well over twenty years now. And I am ashamed to say, have never ridden "Priscilla". I have received her as a Christmas present in all her stuffed glory numerous times. Ridden her? No. That is all about to change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mother informed me last night that "she was taking her grandbabies to see the Pink Pig". Which means that I am driving and basically going along as back up. I asked her why we had never been to ride "Priscilla". She said it was because we were too old when we moved here. I think that's a load of bunk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think you are ever too old to ride a Pink Pig named "Priscilla". It's a Christmas tradition, and therefore exempt from age limits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's my story,anyway. Do y'all have any special family traditions involving the holidays?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-2537997567870175724?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/2537997567870175724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=2537997567870175724' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/2537997567870175724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/2537997567870175724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2007/11/pink-pig-here-we-come.html' title='Pink Pig, Here We Come!'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-8123784787953380092</id><published>2007-11-26T18:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-26T18:19:40.155-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Diet'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='NaBloPoMo'/><title type='text'>I Heart Grapefruit Juice...</title><content type='html'>And so it begins. Day One of The Diet. My mother and I did this several years ago and lost fourty and fifty pounds,respectively. Now we are both back on it and have been joined by my husband and my diddy. It is a simple way to lose weight. And has actually worked for me when other things have failed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will be chronicaling my weight loss here every week. I am weighing myself tomorrow. I will be posting my weight every week. I guess Mondays are as good a day as any to do that. Maybe I will come up with some sort of title. Maybe not!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I know is this. Since injuring my knee, my weight has been atrocious. There are so many things I can no longer do. I don't mean to sound self-pitying, because I'm not. I am lucky to be able to walk and for the most part, be pain free. But there is this fear that it will happen again. It is always in the back of my mind anytime I do anything. I don't expect that to ever fully go away. But if I am healthier and weigh less, then maybe I won't be so focused on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess we will see. Wish me luck. And has anyone seen my Pilates DVD? I can't find it anywhere.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-8123784787953380092?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/8123784787953380092/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=8123784787953380092' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/8123784787953380092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/8123784787953380092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2007/11/i-heart-grapefruit-juice.html' title='I Heart Grapefruit Juice...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-3731959178076000048</id><published>2007-11-25T09:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-25T09:44:50.626-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='FOOTBALL'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='NaBloPoMo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CRAZINESS'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='GO TROJANS'/><title type='text'>USC-44, Arizona State-24</title><content type='html'>YEAH,BABY! Technically I should have posted this Thanksgiving night. I did not because I was waaaay too tired for all that. I was super excited. I also got to actually watch some of the game. On TELEVISION. For reals. Naturally I did not realize they were showing the game until my father called me whilst I was driving home from dinner #3.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We aren't going to mention that I may or may not have been able to watch their games the entire time, but didn't. Because that would make me a total pinhead. And we can't have that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am slightly bummed about Georgia beating Tech(again!). I really thought they were gonna beat 'em this year. This has been one of the craziest seasons of college football that I have ever seen. I don't think my heart can take much more. I am (im)patiently waiting for the AP Poll to come out. Word on the street is that USC may be ranked NUMBER FIVE. 5. Remember you heard it here. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or don't, if word on the street is incorrect. And you can also blame my dad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-3731959178076000048?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/3731959178076000048/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=3731959178076000048' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/3731959178076000048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/3731959178076000048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2007/11/usc-44-arizona-state-24.html' title='USC-44, Arizona State-24'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-8003774374402155782</id><published>2007-11-25T09:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-25T09:34:50.719-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='NaBloPoMo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='worky-work stuff'/><title type='text'>Anything new?</title><content type='html'>You may have noticed some pimpage taking place in my sidebar. And the possible theft of Wordnerd's Mood-O-The-Day because I love it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the thing. At some point in time I would like to go back to being a SAHM. I am trying to generate a little extra moolah any way I can. But not a dirty way. So now I have ads, or will shortly. I also have the Amazon Deal of the Day. Help a girl out, wouldja?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-8003774374402155782?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/8003774374402155782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=8003774374402155782' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/8003774374402155782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/8003774374402155782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2007/11/anything-new.html' title='Anything new?'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-8756373367154611109</id><published>2007-11-24T09:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-24T09:22:30.501-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='NaBloPoMo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CRAZINESS'/><title type='text'>YUCK!</title><content type='html'>&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#EEEEEE" align=center&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;b&gt;You Are Pumpkin Pie&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.blogthings.com/whatkindofpieareyouquiz/pumpkin-pie.jpg" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're the perfect combo of uniqueness and quality.&lt;br /&gt;You're able to relate to many types of people with many different tastes.&lt;br /&gt;But you're by no means generic or ordinary.&lt;br /&gt;In fact, you're one of the most original people around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those who like you are looking for something (someone!) special.&lt;br /&gt;You tend confuse people when they first meet you. You're not as complicated as you seem.&lt;br /&gt;Even though you have a lot of spice and flavor to you, you're never overpowering.&lt;br /&gt;You are a calm and comforting force in people's lives.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatkindofpieareyouquiz/"&gt;What Kind of Pie Are You?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must tell you all that I am completely horrified by this. I detest Pumpkin Pie. With the fire of a thousand suns.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blech.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-8756373367154611109?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/8756373367154611109/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=8756373367154611109' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/8756373367154611109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/8756373367154611109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2007/11/yuck.html' title='YUCK!'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-6528590281308888022</id><published>2007-11-24T08:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-24T09:09:01.186-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='NaBloPoMo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Honey'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>A Girl's Love Affair With Fiesta Ware...</title><content type='html'>When I was twenty-two I met a man we will call Dick. On our three month anniversary he bought me a diamond necklace. When it came time for my birthday I just knew that my gift would be rockin'. We were going out to dinner with some of our friends and I was super excited. Dick came home from work and got ready. He also gave me my present early. Four five-piece place settings of Fiesta Ware.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To say I was less than thrilled would be a very big understatement. He informed me that there was one color in particular that he "always wanted his dinner served to him on". That is EXACTLY what he said. I have never forgotten it. But his idea was to show me that throughout our married life together we could collect more and have a whole set. Aww, sounds romantic, doesn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He broke up with me the night after I made my world famous Cajun Chicken Linguini and served it to him on that goddamn plate. I should have busted it over his head. After we broke up I started buying my own Fiesta Ware. And my family and friends would buy it too. And now? I have eleven place settings. PLUS, my husband is going to buy me more for Christmas. Hah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What does Dick have? I have no idea. Nor do I care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The reason I am writing about my beloved Fiesta Ware is because I JUST found it two days ago. It had been sitting in a box in the basement. I could not find it anywhere. When we moved, my hubby found it. When I was unpacking the last big box I discovered it on the very bottom. I was so jazzed. I immediately called my mom to tell her.Finally, my Fiesta Ware was home in my cabinets. Where it belonged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I laugh every time I serve my husband his dinner on that plate. And so does he.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-6528590281308888022?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/6528590281308888022/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=6528590281308888022' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/6528590281308888022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/6528590281308888022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2007/11/girls-love-affair-with-fiesta-ware.html' title='A Girl&apos;s Love Affair With Fiesta Ware...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-7467891967243318207</id><published>2007-11-23T11:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-23T11:31:38.465-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Day After Turkey Day Sales'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='NaBloPoMo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CRAZINESS'/><title type='text'>THE MADNESS! THE LINES! THE WOMEN IN FULL MAKE-UP!!</title><content type='html'>Wanna guess where I was at four am? Huh? Do ya? Anyone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BINGO! My mama and I decided that this year we would join the millions of insane shoppers for the day after Thanksgiving sales. We felt we were finally ready. Plus, it didn't hurt that my diddy woke up early and made us some coffee. It is excellent coffee, by the way. I even got to use my new creamer( Thanks, Swistle! The peppermint mocha is DELISH!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So all hopped up on caffeine and pure adreneline we hit the holy grail of retail lunacy. Wal-Mart. We needed a microwave, Lightning McQueen, Transformers, a mini crockpot, hand beaters, two ten packs of cars(matchbox,hot wheels,whatev), and some dvd's. Amazingly, we walked out with every single item. And all of our own teeth. It was pretty hairy. And it was only the beginning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We headed to the mall. My mom decided her grandbabies needed a keyboard and a guitar for Christmas. All we need now is a third child and a drum set, and we would have our own rock band! It hasn't been mentioned but I am pretty sure they are coming home with me. We then moved on to Penney's. Gloves,Toe Socks, and Flannel Shirts! Oh My!&lt;br /&gt;A quick trip to Macy's and we were finis with the mall. By the way? I am completely in LUST, hot, primitive,sweaty lust, with Martha Stewart's new line of goodness at Macy's. Dear God. Check it out if you haven't already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our day/morning/night?huh? ended at Kohl's. At that point my coffee buzz had completely worn off and I could hear my bed whispering sweet nothings in my ear. I begged my mother to hurry and be done. She was more than ready as well. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I dropped her off and drove home I thought about all the fun we had had. We met people in line and then met them again outside Macy's. We all laughed that apparently we hadn't had enough of the craziness from Wal-Mart. It was nice. More than nice. People were happy and friendly. Chatting with each other in line. It was how I pictured shopping on such a crazy day to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I already can't wait for next year.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-7467891967243318207?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/7467891967243318207/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=7467891967243318207' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/7467891967243318207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/7467891967243318207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2007/11/madness-lines-women-in-full-make-up.html' title='THE MADNESS! THE LINES! THE WOMEN IN FULL MAKE-UP!!'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-817121283580399646</id><published>2007-11-22T12:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-22T12:49:09.535-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='HOLIDAYS'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='NaBloPoMo'/><title type='text'>Happy Thanksgiving!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="font-size:11px;font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.pyzam.com/graphics/details/4277"&gt;&lt;img src="http://content.pyzam.com/graphics/3/BCtg51104.gif" alt="Happy Thanksgiving" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More &lt;a href="http://www.pyzam.com/graphics"&gt;Free Graphics&lt;/a&gt; at &lt;a href="http://www.pyzam.com/graphics"&gt;pYzam.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope everyone is enjoying their Turkey Day! God knows we are. We have already been to my parent's for dinner, Jimmy is headed out to see his family with the boys in tow, and then we are off to see my friend Rhonda. Notice I am not going to the in-laws? I'm sorry, but on a day when you are supposed to give thanks I refuse to sit and eat dinner with people who don't like me. Or constantly judge me. So I am staying home. And watching some football.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Y'all enjoy your day. I plan to.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-817121283580399646?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/817121283580399646/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=817121283580399646' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/817121283580399646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/817121283580399646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2007/11/happy-thanksgiving.html' title='Happy Thanksgiving!'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-3010278603949360643</id><published>2007-11-21T18:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-21T19:03:50.738-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='NaBloPoMo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='meme whore'/><title type='text'>Crap...</title><content type='html'>I already mentioned the whole Monopoly thing. So here are TWO new random facts about yours truly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1- I, or rather my parent's, received two tickets to some event that took place during the Olympics here in '96, for giving up my seat on a bus. We had just been to the Ray Charles concert at Centennial Park where I discovered a tiny bit of claustrophobia. It occured after the concert as everyone was leaving. It was rather terrifying and scared the hell out of my mother. She said she hoped to never see that look on my face again. Anyhoo. We were riding MARTA back to where we had parked the car. I am still freaking out and this woman gets on the bus. She is older than I am and so exhausted she can barely see straight. Being the good southern girl that I am , I offer my seat. She was quite shocked. Especially after learning what had happened. So she tells my parent's that she WORKS for the Olypics and offers two tickets to womens' something. For free. Because I was polite. My parent's turn them down at first. Because that was just how I was raised. But she insisted. So there is the story of how my parent's were able to attend their very first Olympic Games.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kinda cool,eh?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2- I cannot make grilled cheese. What? I can make fancy French sauces with the best of them. Grilled cheese? Not so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now you know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-3010278603949360643?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/3010278603949360643/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=3010278603949360643' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/3010278603949360643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/3010278603949360643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2007/11/crap.html' title='Crap...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-3900194342521074324</id><published>2007-11-21T06:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-20T20:09:58.655-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='NaBloPoMo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='meme whore'/><title type='text'>Meme, How I love ya, how I love ya...</title><content type='html'>That's right! It's Meme Time. This comes from Burgh Baby's Mom. I'm sorry I can't provide the frickin' link, but all my stuff is possibly disabled. I dunno.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhoo, the meme is 7 random things about me. Are you ready?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1- I curse like a sailor. I know. I generally do not do it in front of the children. Or while at work. But I have the worst potty mouth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2- If I play Monopoly I have to be the Dog. Or I won't play. Same goes with Trivial Pursuit. If I can't be pink I'm not playing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3- I read thrashy romance novels. What? Like I'm the only one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4- I know the layout of every department store in every mall I have EVER been in. Them's mad skillz right there!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5- I used to be a bartender and I made up the world's greatest shot. It's called Pull Your Panties Up. It is fruity and very yummy. It will also kick your ass if you aren't careful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6- I can't type.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7- I love to sing karaoke with my girlfriends. I'm not bad. I won't win any competitions, but I don't suck and that is enough for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't you all feel like you know me better now?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tag whoever hasn't done this meme. Leave a comment in the comments.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-3900194342521074324?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/3900194342521074324/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=3900194342521074324' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/3900194342521074324'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/3900194342521074324'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2007/11/meme-how-i-love-ya-how-i-love-ya.html' title='Meme, How I love ya, how I love ya...'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-8071838866708724568</id><published>2007-11-20T08:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-20T08:27:40.390-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='NaBloPoMo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CRAZINESS'/><title type='text'>ONLY 34!!</title><content type='html'>I only have thirty-four posts for the month of November. I thought for sure I had way more. I need to get on the ol' stick. I was hoping for seventy-five.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looks like I will be lucky to make it to fifty!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-8071838866708724568?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/8071838866708724568/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=8071838866708724568' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/8071838866708724568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/8071838866708724568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2007/11/only-34.html' title='ONLY 34!!'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4189878148788956438.post-607446363955278205</id><published>2007-11-20T07:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-20T20:44:47.104-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='NaBloPoMo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ME'/><title type='text'>Letter to myself.</title><content type='html'>I've been thinking about myself of ten years ago quite a lot lately. I forget who started the similar meme, I think it was Zoot, which was actually a letter to yourself in seventh grade. For some reason I did not participate. Shocking,isn't it?! Instead I have decided to write a letter to myself of ten years ago. Oh the trouble I could have saved her!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Self of Ten Years Ago,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First and foremost, DO NOT let J.C. cut your hair. You will regret it for the rest of your life. And moving on. Girl, stop thinking you are fat. I promise you you are NOT! You look better than you ever have before. Also, please enjoy all those nights out dancing with your girlfriends, because there will come a time when you can't dance anymore. And you will miss that almost as much as your hair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for boyfriends? I would tell you to avoid C.B. and G.D.- but I seriously doubt you would listen to me. The first one will break your heart. And the second? Let's just say he is unavailable. But you will be together for a long time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work is going to be a little crazy. You will get fired for the first(and only!) time in your life. And for the dumbest reason imaginable. You will find a better job and be much happier. Although still a little bitter! You will waste too much time in bars drinking with your friends, but you are young. You will realize that it's not so much fun soon enough. Keep in better touch with B.M. You will know the reason why years later. And get a copy of that picture of him holding that baby at our ChildKind dinner. You will wish you had it for the rest of your life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You will have a good life. A life filled with all your dreams come true. Just enjoy the here and now. Quit worrying so much about what other people think of you. Be happy. Cherish your time spent with your family. Laugh every day. And be thankful for all you have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;The Me of Now&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4189878148788956438-607446363955278205?l=wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/feeds/607446363955278205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4189878148788956438&amp;postID=607446363955278205' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/607446363955278205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4189878148788956438/posts/default/607446363955278205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwtheprincessofquitealot.blogspot.com/2007/11/letter-to-myself.html' title='Letter to myself.'/><author><name>Jenny H.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18156318885201872291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UE6KIymThGE/TaZW5LcqaQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oX4zBUmdksg/s220/0409111349.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
