<?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-7247120938457937345</id><updated>2012-02-16T19:15:07.849-08:00</updated><category term='Intro'/><title type='text'>Luck Be A Lady</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>45</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-3542734375091648524</id><published>2011-01-03T23:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-03T23:49:26.210-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It's over : (</title><content type='html'>Dear blog.  I'm leaving you.  For another blog.  I just feel like I can blog more there.  And be myself.  Because it has a purpose.  Although it was enjoyable for a while I feel like my new blog is more structured unlike you.  You see, I will be blogging daily there and journaling more and sharing my love for photography.  It's a no-brainer.  It's just not working out anymore. I'm sorry.  It was really fun while it lasted...and if I have any ideas of making it last, something might spark in the future.  I didn't start you with the right intentions, I wanted to be more creative with writing and have people LOVE our stuff and well, I just wasn't feeling it.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If you follow me here, I hope you will follow me on the other blog.  You will hear from me more often.  I don't know what it is with humans and wanting to be heard but I like it.  I like sharing and getting feedback and making new friends in the process.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;See you there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.vcollective.blogspot.com"&gt;www.vcollective.blogspot.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-3542734375091648524?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3542734375091648524/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2011/01/its-over.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/3542734375091648524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/3542734375091648524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2011/01/its-over.html' title='It&apos;s over : ('/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-4652079937486512022</id><published>2010-11-20T08:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-20T09:25:13.592-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Indie Folk Lovers UNITE!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I want to start sharing music loves of mine.&lt;br /&gt;I have a huge ego when it comes to my music selection, and I seriously think that everyone else has poor taste except me.&lt;br /&gt;I grew up listening to old school hip-hop, and my step-dad was a pretty impressive break dancer, I kid not!  I also listened to Journey, Pat Benatar, Kansas, Queen,  Michael Jackson, Metallica.  Then I hit middle school and I was all "ahhhh Britney Spears! Mandy Moore! NSYNC! Backstreet boys suck! Marrryy me Justinnnn".&lt;br /&gt;Then in 9th grade I ventured off to some Ska music, punk rock.&lt;br /&gt;My senior year in high school my then idiot boyfriend listened to heavy metal, screamo music, as did I.&lt;br /&gt;So you can see that I have reached some polar opposites in the music spectrum.&lt;br /&gt;I'd like to think that I now have a music love for life!  When I broke up with idiot boyfriend, I started venturing into my own taste in music.  My folk rock life started with these great artists&lt;br /&gt;-Iron and Wine&lt;br /&gt;-Ingrid Michaelson&lt;br /&gt;-Feist&lt;br /&gt;-Sufjan Stevens&lt;br /&gt;-Rachel Yamagata&lt;br /&gt;-Skuyler Fisk&lt;br /&gt;-Tristan Prettyman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I want to share Junip.&lt;br /&gt;Jose Gonzalez is a wonderful sounding artist on his own but he has teamed up with other talents and created a musical folk orgy (an LDS orgy where we all sit  2 Book of Mormons apart and get high on caffeine, playing a dangerous game of charades!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/_-q_N5mnGRs?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;color1=0x402061&amp;amp;color2=0x9461ca"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/_-q_N5mnGRs?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;color1=0x402061&amp;amp;color2=0x9461ca" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-4652079937486512022?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4652079937486512022/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/11/indie-folk-lovers-unite.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/4652079937486512022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/4652079937486512022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/11/indie-folk-lovers-unite.html' title='Indie Folk Lovers UNITE!'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-5113751595782666625</id><published>2010-11-17T19:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-17T19:28:42.977-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hubby's first blog post : )</title><content type='html'>poop dang fart cuss SMILE.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Justin&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(i'm glad he didn't say a real curse word! That's my job!-Val)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-5113751595782666625?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5113751595782666625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/11/hubbys-first-blog-post.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/5113751595782666625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/5113751595782666625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/11/hubbys-first-blog-post.html' title='Hubby&apos;s first blog post : )'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-5732376864482238682</id><published>2010-11-15T22:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-15T23:16:11.493-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Let's vent shall we.</title><content type='html'>Today I started to get frustrated as things crammed in to our vehicle started flowing out, and how it was difficult to get out of the truck because millions of pieces of trash and junk stashed behind the seats wanted to come out with me and I started to whine and sniffle like a little girl, the tears started coming to my eyes and then I thought "Val your stupid its just trash, pick it up, put it in the trash can"...I put it back in the truck, the trashcan was further than I was willing to walk.  So I slammed the door, huffed and puffed, stomped up the steps into my work's office threw my stuff down, and slumped in a chair.  I &lt;b&gt;SO&lt;/b&gt; was not ready to deal with fits and tantrum's that I had the prior weekend.&lt;div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;Let me describe how this weekend made me feel: hopeless, weak, like I wanted to scratch my eyeballs and ears out so that I could not sense what was around me.  I felt numb, I lacked compassion for my clients, I had no understanding, everything they whined about was so stupid!  I wanted to throw pie or rotten tomatoes at their faces.  But you know what?  Their problems are so important and real to them, and so unreal to me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ute fan was upset that another resident knew her age and told Ute fan that she was the same age.  I wanted to scream, "BIG DEAL STOP ACTING LIKE A CHILD. THERE ARE A MILLION PEOPLE THAT EXACT SAME AGE" even though I know mentally she is a child and does not understand.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hello Kitty was upset that another client (Grumpy) said she looked like a boy.  I wanted to say, "well, Hello Kitty, that's cause you do look like a boy" but instead I said "Well, Grumpy had low blood sugar and she is not very nice when her blood is low, so I am sure she didn't mean it".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;See lately, in my head, I am thinking something completely different and mean, but outwardly I try so hard to say something appropriate and positive.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I should have let myself cry today. It would have been good therapy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's my fault I feel this way.  I let things build up until I start despising the people around me who make my life a tiny bit hard sometimes.  I despise my teachers for giving me homework.  I despise Sharma for having a bladder, and having to take her out to potty in which she drags me everywhere and will never learn to walk appropriately on a leash.  I despise my clients for having an easy life and putting the brunt of their emotions on my shoulders.  I despise other's blooming photography businesses while I don't know what direction mine is going.  I hate pretty blogs. Mine is ugly and no one reads it except Elizabeth Downie  : ) thank you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I pretty much don't like anyone this week, and scream negative thoughts at them in my head, but send them fake smile.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Okay, so back to the original topic (it's my blog so I can jump around however I want to!):&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I am slumped in my chair, in strolls Blondie.  I give her her pill before she threatens me with a banana.  To my astonishment she happily takes her pill and goes to her room.  Doesn't even beg me to make dinner AND IT'S 3:00!!  Later she came in and said she loved me and gave me one of her signature awkward, 2 feet apart, pat on the back hugs!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hello Kitty was in a cheerful mood.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ute fan was in a cheerful mood with a minor upset, and still followed directions.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Grumpy came over to get her pill with out a fight, and didn't yell at me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Even Mr. Farley was in a happy mood.  As he was up getting his meds he joked with me that he was gonna throw a glass plate in a drive way and wasn't going to pick it up. He giggled and grinned. Then he says "I love you Val".  "Wanna know why?" "because I got my toe nails clipped and I was brave".  I thought that was such a great complement coming from Mr. Farley, I felt special that he loves me".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today was a more successful day than most and had I been in a happier mood, I could have enjoyed it more.  I thought it was going to be hard and that the day couldn't get better, but it did and I am a little more chipper because of my clients, and maybe because my husband said, when I got home, that he just wanted to hug me, that felt nice.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If you're reading this...I probably thought something mean about you. Sorry. Gotta throw the daggers at someone, but no worries, you'll never know for sure.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here's to a happier tomorrow!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cheers, Val&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-5732376864482238682?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5732376864482238682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/11/lets-vent-shall-we.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/5732376864482238682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/5732376864482238682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/11/lets-vent-shall-we.html' title='Let&apos;s vent shall we.'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-3033837435375256563</id><published>2010-10-29T22:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-29T22:53:51.830-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm breaking my silence for.....visors. errr yeah.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/TMuyKXZuEPI/AAAAAAAAASg/_giEwwUDGSc/s1600/14961-1_quicklook.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 357px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/TMuyKXZuEPI/AAAAAAAAASg/_giEwwUDGSc/s400/14961-1_quicklook.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533712458305114354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear People of the United States of Uhmerrica!&lt;br /&gt;Please, please I beg you.  Do not let these come back in to style.  In fact I don't ever remember them being in style.  Even when my mom wore them with a big poof of blonde overly hair-sprayed hair coming out the top (sorry mom, it had to be said. Will you still come see me for Thanksgiving now?).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I once feared the day when straight-legged pants came back. But now they are called "Skinny Jeans"  which is appealing because of the instant sense of feeling skinny since you are in Skinny Jeans.  Who cares that the dozen of cookies I ate last week are scattered through out my hips and thighs! I'm in the Skinny Club!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, back to the point People!  I will be keeping my eye on Vogue, and since I don't jump on a band wagon of fools until I am the only one left, if it does appear then I will sign my life away to the Hipsters Who Take The Ugliest Trends, Slap Them In A Popular Magazine and Become Automatic Have To Wear Status Club&lt;---I tried to think of a better (shorter) name but, alas...just alas. &lt;br /&gt;P.S. This is just an imaginary club, that only I can be a part of because I am 7 years old again, in straight-legged jeans, begging my mother not to wear that damned visor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.P.S  I don't know why this had to be my debut back into blogging world after a few months of silence.  I thought it was important. Obviously I have some awesome priorities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See you whenever-Val&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-3033837435375256563?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3033837435375256563/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/10/im-breaking-my-silence-forvisors-errr.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/3033837435375256563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/3033837435375256563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/10/im-breaking-my-silence-forvisors-errr.html' title='I&apos;m breaking my silence for.....visors. errr yeah.'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/TMuyKXZuEPI/AAAAAAAAASg/_giEwwUDGSc/s72-c/14961-1_quicklook.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-129516263777205595</id><published>2010-07-30T23:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-31T00:07:54.587-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Prayer Rant</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;When we have family prayer it always makes the vibes good! So why are we so lazy and skip it all the time?  For me, praying is like a confrontation with the man up stairs because  I'm a sinner, and He is perfect, and I feel judged.  However, I do  accept that it's my fault that I feel this way. I know He is a loving  person who understands me, but I keep messing up, and that's what makes it harder to keep coming back and admitting it.  That's usually when I stop praying.  But I must say, it is very humbling to come to Him when I feel at my lowest. Being humble means accepting that you can't do things on your own and ask for help.  It's so cliche of me to think that I can do things on my own without shooting a prayer up to Heavenly Father.  So many people fall into this stubborn pattern.  I kick myself for biting on to that hook.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I first joined the LDS (mormon) Church I had a spot free spirit.  I tried so hard and stayed determined to keep from sinning.  I was naive.  I now have many spots, and a few holes that I'm trying to fill up.  I don't feel quite my self a lot of the time.  I'm not on top of the world like the freshly baptised teen I once was.  It's more of a challenge to be valiant than I thought it would be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ladies and Gents.  If you stop praying, things just go in this slow, down hill spiral.  It's time for me to swallow this pride and get my butt in gear.  I have been thinking a lot about how much time I have left on this Earth and if I'm ready to be in the presence of my perfect Father. The answer is no and I am done procrastinating it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's really true what they say, people in the latter days face more  spiritual hardships than the earlier pioneers did.  They sent the most  valiant saints in the pioneer days because we couldn't handle all of the  physical pain that was thrown at the pioneers.  However, it would  have been much harder for them to live in these times.   I keep thinking I should have signed up for the roller coaster ride to the Mid evil times, I would be a princess in Scotland I'm sure....probably dieing from leprosy, cholera, bubonic plague or typhoid...not cancer, diabetes, myocardial infarction (cool name for heart attack) or some other futuristic year 2010 ailment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhoozles, hurray for not blogging in over a month. It felt great!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-129516263777205595?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/129516263777205595/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/07/prayer-rant.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/129516263777205595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/129516263777205595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/07/prayer-rant.html' title='Prayer Rant'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-6392922528405403664</id><published>2010-06-12T00:21:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-12T00:24:18.932-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I married an 8 year old.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The real piano man!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/TBM1j1cEYcI/AAAAAAAAASQ/lANnCzvHRMY/s1600/HaileyMears-0031.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/TBM1j1cEYcI/AAAAAAAAASQ/lANnCzvHRMY/s400/HaileyMears-0031.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481784061196526018" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;He is very special. Obviously I don't get him out in public very often, you can see why.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-6392922528405403664?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/6392922528405403664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/06/i-married-8-year-old.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/6392922528405403664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/6392922528405403664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/06/i-married-8-year-old.html' title='I married an 8 year old.'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/TBM1j1cEYcI/AAAAAAAAASQ/lANnCzvHRMY/s72-c/HaileyMears-0031.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-4158738418641895750</id><published>2010-06-05T09:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-05T10:02:12.862-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Chubsy is Official.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/TAqBvY4ZEPI/AAAAAAAAASI/86QziQ9zpbc/s1600/colby+and+kay.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/TAqBvY4ZEPI/AAAAAAAAASI/86QziQ9zpbc/s400/colby+and+kay.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479334547782439154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chubsy graduated from basic training almost 2 weeks ago, and now he is off to tech school to be a medic.  His family got to see him for just a short little bit after the ceremony and now he is gone till October and then will be stationed who knows where.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, my other brother who I shall name Ellien, will be joining the military (again) soon.  He has already served 4 years in the Army, lived it up on ships in the middle east and a few years in Hawaii (nice!)  He will be joining the Army Reserves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am proud of them for signing their lives over to such a cause. Just hope they always stay safe in the process no matter what.  It takes special people, I think, to be a part of these kinds of callings.  Not hopeless, lost souls, but people with courage and bravery.   I wish I was that strong to serve, I think about it sometimes but would never act on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-4158738418641895750?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4158738418641895750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/06/chubsy-is-official.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/4158738418641895750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/4158738418641895750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/06/chubsy-is-official.html' title='Chubsy is Official.'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/TAqBvY4ZEPI/AAAAAAAAASI/86QziQ9zpbc/s72-c/colby+and+kay.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-2666280022031239328</id><published>2010-05-10T20:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-10T22:16:19.516-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Solace in Nature.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S-jREb1hy4I/AAAAAAAAAR4/ToAvyWoQdSY/s1600/IMG_9280edit.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S-jREb1hy4I/AAAAAAAAAR4/ToAvyWoQdSY/s400/IMG_9280edit.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469851621563419522" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I have been reading the diary of Anne Frank and especially adored these wise words from her&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;"The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quite alone with the heavens, nature, and God. Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be and that God wishes to see people happy, amidst the simple beauty of nature.  As long as this exists, and it certainly always will, I know that then there w&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;ill always be comfort for every sorrow, what ever the circumstance may be..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S-jQrmHQi8I/AAAAAAAAARo/R-JpKmdSr8k/s400/IMG_9218edit.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469851194825411522" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I always am certainly happy when I am out experiencing nature.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Flowers absolutely make my heart sing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;That's why I think I belong back in North Carolina sometimes.  Where green moss grows on huge oak trees.  Where the air is filled with the scent of sweetness from the gardenia bushes and honeysuckle vines.  Where the grass is a great alternative for carpet.  I love the south.  I miss rivers, and the thick green leaf forests. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;We live in the city and I have started potting some flowers and herbs.  I have been answering their beck and call, in hopes to make them last till fall.  It still gets quite cold out at night so I bring each of them inside the house and back outside in the morning to bask in the sunlight all day long.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I learned this year to plant desert plants with desert plants and not with the flowers that require more water.  I did that last year and always had to drown the desert flowers because the others were dying from thirst.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My surroundings play a huge part in my own happiness.  I'm good at the emotionally taxing things but, if I'm not surrounded by beauty and light I feel miserable.  This was odd for me, but I felt a huge wave of emotion go through me when I was done planting these flowers, tears came to my eyes because of that simple beauty.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Happiness plays a different role in everyone's lives but these flowers are my little piece of happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Update: Eww I feel like a weenie admitting that I got misty eyed over flowers, don't judge me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-2666280022031239328?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2666280022031239328/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/05/solace-in-nature.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/2666280022031239328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/2666280022031239328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/05/solace-in-nature.html' title='Solace in Nature.'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S-jREb1hy4I/AAAAAAAAAR4/ToAvyWoQdSY/s72-c/IMG_9280edit.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-8864780881385410267</id><published>2010-04-30T22:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-30T23:06:59.067-07:00</updated><title type='text'>as of late.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S9vCcExjliI/AAAAAAAAARg/YwK6g63FDSM/s1600/photogs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S9vCcExjliI/AAAAAAAAARg/YwK6g63FDSM/s400/photogs.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466176360317949474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;So this is what I have been up to lately.&lt;br /&gt;That's me modeling in the middle : )&lt;br /&gt;I have been traveling a lot around the city shooting at different workshops and meetings.&lt;br /&gt;It has been fun and I am learning a lot and building a great portfolio.&lt;br /&gt;I even have people interested in me shooting their wedding gigs in the future.&lt;br /&gt;Funny thing though, because I never thought I would want to shoot anything wedding related as a photographer, but it is quite fun and there is a lot of money to be made doing weddings and bridals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come spring when I get loan left overs from school I plan on buying higher grade lenses and will get a business license.&lt;br /&gt;22 years old, with my own business.  Never woulda thunk it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, school is almost out! May 4th I am done.  Also on May 4th my new Mac will arrive in the mail. My current computer is very sick and will be put to rest.  Looking forward to having a quicker, easier work flow oh and more blogging!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We found our new apartment. It's awesome. I will post pictures when we get moved in.  Our landlord is rather pissed that we are moving out 15 days early, but unfortunately it just works out better for us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S.I have added more photos to my portfolio section at my new site &lt;a href="http://www.valfoto.com"&gt;Valfoto&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am rather pleased with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goodnight blog land,&lt;br /&gt;-Grown Up L.G.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-8864780881385410267?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8864780881385410267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/04/as-of-late.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/8864780881385410267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/8864780881385410267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/04/as-of-late.html' title='as of late.'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S9vCcExjliI/AAAAAAAAARg/YwK6g63FDSM/s72-c/photogs.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-4514903328103606447</id><published>2010-04-20T18:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-20T18:48:08.970-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Photo Site</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My photos now have a home at &lt;a href="http://www.valfoto.com"&gt;Valfoto&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am thrilled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you have a gmail account I believe you can add it to google reader so you can be updated when I add more photos.  If not, then you are Sh.. out of luck  :  ) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am gonna go run and tell my mommy now.  I think she'd be quite thrilled for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh crud, I forgot to put more money in that dagum parking meter, gotta go!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Val&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-4514903328103606447?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4514903328103606447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/04/photo-site.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/4514903328103606447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/4514903328103606447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/04/photo-site.html' title='Photo Site'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-1558034527490458298</id><published>2010-04-16T15:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-16T18:15:03.159-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I still love blogging.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;You guys. I have been so busy lately.  I just came on shift 2 hours ago. It's almost 5 p.m.  and I am so wanting to quit my job just so I can go home for a teensy power nap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't been too busy with school.  But, I have been busy with this photo student exchange with a photographer, Scott Jarvie.  I will be working with him through-out the summer.  I think he might be getting frustrated with me because I keep calling myself an intern.  I am not an intern.  I will be working in his office, on his personal blogs, editing photos and other business type stuff.  I will also be going to a lot of his workshops and seminars.  It will be a full time thing come May.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also in May, I will be shooting my first wedding, ever.&lt;br /&gt;Let's hope I don't blow it ( I am mostly confident). Wish me luck!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have written down a few stories I have been wanting to post but I thought I would give you a grand excuse as to why I haven't blogged in almost 2 weeks first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love to blog.  But sometimes it's the last thing I want to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also.  Not to diss blogspot or anything but, Scott my photo "coach" was showing me Wordpress the other day, because that's what he blogs with and let me tell you, it is far more advanced than this blogspot, and I think I may venture into the darkside to start a photo blog there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On that note, I can't wait to be off work tomorrow night.  I hope you all are happy and glad to see the sunshine and this beautiful weather.  It sure does lighten my burdens!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;**UPDATE**  My husband dumped out the morphed soup contents in the crock pot. I'm easy to please, that made my day.  I swore to him I would never make soup again : )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-1558034527490458298?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1558034527490458298/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/04/i-still-love-blogging.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/1558034527490458298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/1558034527490458298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/04/i-still-love-blogging.html' title='I still love blogging.'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-8986468682678139408</id><published>2010-04-06T15:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-06T19:46:06.935-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Furry.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I have sort of a dilemma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It involves food. Furry food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made soup a month ago. It tasted good, but when I'm in the kitchen concocting up a recipe that I have never even heard of, I try a spoonful after every little dash of something that I decide to add to it.  That usually ruins the whole meal for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent hours, HOURS making this soup. I had half of a bowl and that was it.  Justin had quite a few bowls but with him being human and all he did not want to consume a whole crock pot full of soup in one week (dang humans!). So the soup sat and sat and it's still sitting in my fridge growing up into a fine young blob with green/blue fur (I'm so proud!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now the time has come, I am done ignoring The Soup.&lt;br /&gt;I need to either suck it up and dump it out or take the easy route and just chuck the whole crock pot and save myself from the dry heaving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Route one would ensure that I'd have a crockpot for future use!&lt;br /&gt;Route two makes me very happy, because I can forget the whole ordeal ever happened.&lt;br /&gt;Route one would keep me from being mauled by the I'm A Mormon Mom and Have a Crockpot to Feed My Huge Family of Fifty Club.&lt;br /&gt;Route two would ruin all chances of my crocking ever again, which might not be a bad thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One friend mentioned putting the crock pot in the freezer and dumping the moldy ice cube remains. Some reason I get this feeling that it will spoil my food in the freezer by doing this.  It makes me feel gross, but then again I have been eating food in the fridge all along and I'm not dead yet, so it might not be a bad idea after all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See what horrible things I have to deal with in my life?  : )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-8986468682678139408?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8986468682678139408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/04/furry.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/8986468682678139408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/8986468682678139408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/04/furry.html' title='Furry.'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-3593597317292727947</id><published>2010-04-01T23:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-02T00:07:38.198-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life as I know it.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Life sucks sometimes. Like when the house stinks of poop covered in rotten milk covered in fish guts covered in burnt plastic covered in YOU NAME IT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or when we haven't anymore plastic silverware to eat food b/c we won't do dishes and we have used up all plastic resources and China goes bankrupt because of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It sucks when I don't have clean underwear for a week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It sucks when I feel like I am going NO where and there is no end in sight to that nothingness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It sucks when my entire paycheck has vanished in a matter of days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It sucks when I never see Justin and don't feel married.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It sucks when I don't want to go to church but I do anyways. (sometimes I will skip until I have to teach my primary lesson -I don't teach them about douches FYI, unless you consider Satan being a douche..cause he is).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It sucks when a blog post turns into one huge suck fest!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It should be called The Suck Post, but that could be taken the wrong way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I am here to inform you that most of those things are true except for my life leading to nothingness.  Wanna know why? Sure you do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel a tiny sense of success in the far distant future because my life + photography is soaring in the right direction.  One of my fine art photos made it into my colleges art show.  There were 470 entries and only 100 made it.  -Win.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Krishna Temple that held the Festival of Colors bought one of my photos that I took last Saturday, I don't get any profit because I donated my photos which I am obviously fine with, but I feel a little pride that someone will be displaying my photo.  -Win.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so glad that I have been jumping at the opportunity to network with other photographers.  That I am entering competitions fearlessly and always looking for &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;more&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am finally growing into my own photographic style which was quite a hard struggle for me before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If it wasn't spring time I would probably be more unhappy with my situation because winter has that effect sometimes.  But, Spring is here and every flower makes me smile and happy to be alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just keep thinking- "this is normal, everyone goes through this muck before they start to benefit from the fruit of their labors".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is just a lot more that I need to work on like:&lt;br /&gt;Church-  I haven't been at my tip top lately. It's been real hard. I know the church is true, yadda, yadda. But, being faithful and following all of those commandments is hard. real hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marriage- It doesn't feel as strong as it could be. Life is getting in the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Family- Where are you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fun- I know you're near!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm happy.  I am. Because the happy outweighs the bad.  But I need more happy.  It's playing with me like a game of footsie.  Hiding under the table, flirting with fun, but truly hasn't gotten there yet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I making any sense?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-3593597317292727947?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3593597317292727947/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/04/life-as-i-know-it.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/3593597317292727947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/3593597317292727947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/04/life-as-i-know-it.html' title='Life as I know it.'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-4899297514306815298</id><published>2010-03-29T08:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-29T08:22:48.493-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Update: Holi Festival</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Sorry the link didn't work last, it should now.&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://photos.jarviedigital.com/holi"&gt;HoliFest&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.  Here's another photo of mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S7DFV_Rx6AI/AAAAAAAAARY/j37BCRDyP3M/s1600/holi+5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S7DFV_Rx6AI/AAAAAAAAARY/j37BCRDyP3M/s400/holi+5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454076130299602946" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-4899297514306815298?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4899297514306815298/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/03/update-holi-festival.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/4899297514306815298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/4899297514306815298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/03/update-holi-festival.html' title='Update: Holi Festival'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S7DFV_Rx6AI/AAAAAAAAARY/j37BCRDyP3M/s72-c/holi+5.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-1332613588943789705</id><published>2010-03-28T19:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-29T08:25:27.134-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Best Day of My Life, this month atleast!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I had the amazing privilege to photograph the Holi Festival of Colors with 12 photographers on Saturday and to say I am high on life is an understatement.&lt;br /&gt;Scott Jarvie of JarvieDigital organized our small group and besides the individuals who came with their own pro gear and the media, we were the only group in sync with festival organizers who covered the event!&lt;br /&gt;Our photos will be sent all over the nation and world to different media, and a book will be published with the best photos taken.  Scott put a lot of effort into being prepared, and the lucky soul Pete Stott (a great photo editor and photographer) will go to heaven for bringing baby wipes!  It was a MESS!  There were times when I couldn't see an inch in front of my face and my lungs flooded with dyed cornstarch while photographing in the middle of the masses of bodies.  My nose was plugged with purply-pinkness.  The rainbow powder made its way into every crevice imaginable and my plastic wrapped camera made it through, mostly.  Was it worth it?&lt;br /&gt;Helk yes it was!&lt;br /&gt;Go&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://photos.jarviedigital.com/holi"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;HERE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt; to view all of the photos taken by our team.&lt;br /&gt;Collectively we took over 10,000 photos (wow).&lt;br /&gt;Below are a few photos I snapped...edited by someone else on the Jarvie Team.&lt;br /&gt;I will add more when they come.&lt;br /&gt;50% of the proceeds for photos purchased will go to the Krishna Indian Temple, the rest will go towards Scotts photo school and expenses like the trash bags, baby wipes, hamburgers we ate..all that good stuff to prepare and provide at the event (and maybe they will give me some if you buy, say ten million copies of my photo)&lt;br /&gt;The photos were all taken on raw and only a certain number of programs can edit raw photos, none of which I own.  So I will def. be adding more photos on the Macs at school tomorrow!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alas! My photos!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S7ArnbFyojI/AAAAAAAAARQ/cOw9pq4e-IA/s1600/821570750_5Y3KQ-L.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S7ArnbFyojI/AAAAAAAAARQ/cOw9pq4e-IA/s400/821570750_5Y3KQ-L.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453907105032610354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S7ArehO6BiI/AAAAAAAAARI/Nmv-Q7lwp9E/s1600/holi.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S7ArehO6BiI/AAAAAAAAARI/Nmv-Q7lwp9E/s400/holi.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453906952062633506" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S7ArTeQJZbI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/iAk7BPvS7j0/s1600/holi+3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S7ArTeQJZbI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/iAk7BPvS7j0/s400/holi+3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453906762283967922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S7ArYSt48uI/AAAAAAAAARA/K722CBD-bwY/s1600/holi+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S7ArYSt48uI/AAAAAAAAARA/K722CBD-bwY/s400/holi+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453906845086839522" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S7ArNTzrdCI/AAAAAAAAAQw/y9OUZT7_0uk/s1600/holi+4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S7ArNTzrdCI/AAAAAAAAAQw/y9OUZT7_0uk/s400/holi+4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453906656400995362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some day I would like to hire my own photo editors!&lt;br /&gt;Scott and Pete did an awesome job with editing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-1332613588943789705?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1332613588943789705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/03/best-day-of-my-life-this-month-atleast.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/1332613588943789705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/1332613588943789705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/03/best-day-of-my-life-this-month-atleast.html' title='The Best Day of My Life, this month atleast!'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S7ArnbFyojI/AAAAAAAAARQ/cOw9pq4e-IA/s72-c/821570750_5Y3KQ-L.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-2807556779718695062</id><published>2010-03-23T23:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-23T23:28:09.679-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleep Mumbler</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Justin was mumbling something really fast in his sleep last night.  When Justin sleep talks, I drop everything I am doing (pop popcorn if there's time), sprint to his side (ever so quietly) to catch what he's saying so I can tell everyone and make fun of him for it the next day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, when I got to his side last night he had stopped what he was mumbling so I started poking him in the chest and belly in hopes that it would stir up his dream a little more so that he might carry on again.  I started imagining him dreaming that he was in a fight or being pecked by chickens. Then I began laughing in hysterics! I crouched on the floor and covered my face trying to muffle my loud hiccup sounding laugh so not to wake him, if the poking hadn't done it already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh how The Justin amuses me.&lt;br /&gt;or&lt;br /&gt;Oh how I amuse myself at his expense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-L.G.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-2807556779718695062?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2807556779718695062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/03/sleep-mumbler.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/2807556779718695062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/2807556779718695062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/03/sleep-mumbler.html' title='Sleep Mumbler'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-6917692821885826753</id><published>2010-03-19T23:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-19T23:49:58.202-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Aw Heck.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;This week has been terribly busy with friends and family visiting from out of town, school projects and work.  I just can't muster up the energy to write a well thought out post! Not saying the Douche post was thought out, cuz it wasn't...I was half asleep and super giggly when I decided to write about the topic...I even proceeded to purchase a book about famous quotes from douches (like Paris Hilton) from Urban Outfitters. It was on sale!  Then my friend Savanna and I got this brilliant idea to send the book to the guys at The Mormon Bachelor Pad along with a copy of all of the douchey things they've ever said (which could take all year to make). They can be a big pain in the enema sometimes.   But the book is laying on the floor somewhere at home, and I wonder why I wasted 5 bucks on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before this post turns rotten, I will quit while I am behind.  I am supposed to be acting lady like, sort-of-i-guess.  But do you really mind? What if I want to talk about how I am an amazingly fast pooper? See what I mean? It's time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the very near future I will bring every one up to date with a re-cap of my spring break.&lt;br /&gt;Which entailed: a movie set, robots, a rude waitress, hair dye, ...whoa I just dozed at the computer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goodnight,&lt;br /&gt;L.G.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*I just had a thought.  I don't like the word 'douche' so why am I using it? Arrgg this worldly world gets the best of us!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-6917692821885826753?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/6917692821885826753/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/03/aw-heck.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/6917692821885826753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/6917692821885826753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/03/aw-heck.html' title='Aw Heck.'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-7489461448188984007</id><published>2010-03-12T23:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-13T08:26:42.308-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Enemas of The State! Douche Edition PG-13</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Wondering if you're wondering the same?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Douche&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feminine hygiene product or insult?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Douche usually refers to &lt;b&gt;vaginal irrigation&lt;/b&gt;, the rinsing of the vagina, but it can also refer to the rinsing of any body cavity. A &lt;b&gt;douche bag&lt;/b&gt; is a piece of equipment for douching—a bag for holding the fluid used in douching. To avoid transferring intestinal bacteria into the vagina,&lt;br /&gt;the same bag must not be used for a vaginal douche and an enema.&lt;--(useless information)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I promise this post is not R-rated : )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does anyone else think it is a little ridiculous that out of ANY other word in the English language that could be chosen to call someone not including the many other words already designated, that some one thought it would be super cool to use douche or douche bag as an insult?  I shudder at the thought of the actual meaning.    Scenario example of the birth of the derogatory word, "Douche" : &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the year 1614 A.D. &lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tom: *crunch*crunch*crunch* (eating secret forbidden chips)&lt;br /&gt;Fred: *Sniffedy Sniffaroo* "What's that familiar smell? Smells like forbidden chips!" (Fred's on to something!).&lt;br /&gt;Tom: (moves to closet to enhance sneakiness) *crunchy*crucharoo*&lt;br /&gt;Fred: (finds a trail of secret forbidden chips, opens closet door)&lt;br /&gt;Tom: (recoils to the back of the closet, bares teeth and snarls while shoving as many of the chips in his mouth as he can at incredible speed.)&lt;br /&gt;Fred: "What art thou doing eating forbidden chips Tom?". " Why you stupid vaginal irrigation contraption! You peice of equipment holding fluid that cleans body cavities!". "You'll pay for this, youuuuuuuuu!."  Fred picks up Tom. Lifts Tom over his head and throws Tom down a really fast and steep water slide and skaaaadouucche. INSTANT ENEMA IN ACTION!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Thus the douche was born.  And the need to call an idiot a douche was born.&lt;br /&gt;It all leads back to the forbidden chips. DON'T EAT THE CHIPS!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This post is given the "Most rediculous post because it's writer is uber-happy-sleep-typing-and-I'm-hungry-now-but-can't-stop-thinking-of-the-bidet-in-my-dad's-bathroom-that-I-thought-was-a-fountain" award.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BUT WAIT! There's more, I made this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S5tKTrBqmCI/AAAAAAAAAQg/7D3c1a-akLc/s1600-h/notafountain1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 289px; height: 294px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S5tKTrBqmCI/AAAAAAAAAQg/7D3c1a-akLc/s400/notafountain1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448029876062427170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With all of the love that my heart contains,&lt;br /&gt;The Lady Girl&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. I now give this post to my brother that doesn't have an alias yet because I can't think of anything cute enough, he's the &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; Chubsy one.  His birthday is on Sunday (14th) and I didn't get him anything, not even a card, just a post about douches. He'll love it, I just know it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-7489461448188984007?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7489461448188984007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/03/enemas-of-state-douche-edition-pg-13.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/7489461448188984007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/7489461448188984007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/03/enemas-of-state-douche-edition-pg-13.html' title='Enemas of The State! Douche Edition PG-13'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S5tKTrBqmCI/AAAAAAAAAQg/7D3c1a-akLc/s72-c/notafountain1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-1606602587922240206</id><published>2010-03-12T09:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-12T10:23:05.565-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Awesome Post Times Googleplex.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I had a very fulfilled childhood, and by fulfilled I mean that I got into my fair share of trouble and mischief, and spent every other moment in between being harassed by my brothers.  It's a wonder that I'm still alive, actually.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Between being locked in suitcases, rolled up in blankets like a burrito (which explains my claustrophobia), tricked into eating a dried, hot, red chili pepper, and being lored to sit on a mattress folded in half (which led to my flying all the way across the room and hitting the wall spread eagle *SPLAT*  like a bug on a windshield, and a concussion thereafter), I can still muster up a few drops of love for those mangy boys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought you might like to see some pictures of this time in my life that I speak of, and get to know who these brothers are that I'm always talking about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S5qCPFrz8TI/AAAAAAAAAQA/afBbmfvPLQM/s1600-h/fam.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 297px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S5qCPFrz8TI/AAAAAAAAAQA/afBbmfvPLQM/s400/fam.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447809894993621298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We clean up nicely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S5qDjkVOcaI/AAAAAAAAAQY/YbAxHw7Rvjk/s1600-h/IMG_7397.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 332px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S5qDjkVOcaI/AAAAAAAAAQY/YbAxHw7Rvjk/s400/IMG_7397.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447811346329399714" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I am the ring leader...not really. I really love the huge mound of Christmas throw up as the back drop. My brother on the right doesn't have an alias yet, can't think of anything clever enough to describe his ninja greatness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S5qCUFWUSVI/AAAAAAAAAQI/qWdubjS2CDY/s1600-h/hands.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 283px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S5qCUFWUSVI/AAAAAAAAAQI/qWdubjS2CDY/s400/hands.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447809980802812242" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Wish I had MS paint so I could make laser beams come from our eyes.&lt;br /&gt;aww look, the only time we were dumb enough to hold hands. cute.&lt;br /&gt;That's me and Chubsy by the way. And what the HELL mom, why did you dress me this way? You think you're funny don't you?  I look like the fracken blue berry girl from Willy Wonka.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-1606602587922240206?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1606602587922240206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/03/awesome-post-times-googleplex.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/1606602587922240206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/1606602587922240206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/03/awesome-post-times-googleplex.html' title='Awesome Post Times Googleplex.'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S5qCPFrz8TI/AAAAAAAAAQA/afBbmfvPLQM/s72-c/fam.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-8480539543489311691</id><published>2010-03-10T20:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-10T21:28:38.292-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Poopies</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Every few months or so I go on a puppy binge. I just get this desire to take care of something and have it be mine, cuddle it to smithereens, and cry at the mere sight of it's cuteness.  I don't think I'm fit to be a parent, so having a kid is unbelievably out of the question.  A puppy is a perfect substitute!  However, Justin says we aren't in a spot to have a puppy. We have a tiny home that is technically a studio apartment and doesn't allow dogs, and we are hardly ever home and have time to nurture each other.  I was in super puppy mode today, and truly needed to convince Justin that getting us a puppy was critical.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Conversation went as follows via text message:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: I want a puppy so bad :(. I really want one. I can take care of it :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;Justin:&lt;/span&gt; No room for a puppy right now.&lt;br /&gt;Me: In 2 months I will need a puppy.  (when our lease is up)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;Justin:&lt;/span&gt; We'll see.&lt;br /&gt;Me: I'm just going to surprise you, and you'll be so happy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;Justin:&lt;/span&gt; Surprising me like that might not be the best idea.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Rubbish! I will poop on your pillow case! Take that for a surprise!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;Justin:&lt;/span&gt; I'm not afraid of your poop! Better your poop once than puppy poop day after day!&lt;br /&gt;Me: I will poop in all of your socks and your pillow case everyday as long as I keep eating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;Justin:&lt;/span&gt; I'll sneak starches into your food every day so you get constipated and can't poop at all.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Fine! I will just implode! No wife or puppy for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;Justin:&lt;/span&gt; I'll still have a wife.  I'll just have to keep you in a vase on the mantle. And maybe then I'll get a puppy.&lt;br /&gt;Me: And you'll still be cleaning my poop out of your socks hahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I can't wait for the day that I get to drag around baby Sharma. Yepp that's her name.  She, being an English Springer Spaniel was named after this guy:&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S5h0SqUqqTI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/ENUCIDY3UT4/s1600-h/CHRIS_SHARMA.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S5h0SqUqqTI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/ENUCIDY3UT4/s400/CHRIS_SHARMA.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447231613252053298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This is Chris Sharma, a professional bouldering climber&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meet Sharma as a Eng. Springer Spaniel:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S5h5ln4UGYI/AAAAAAAAAPY/KIQAOuu3s0s/s1600-h/2765622615_7c33803c90.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S5h5ln4UGYI/AAAAAAAAAPY/KIQAOuu3s0s/s400/2765622615_7c33803c90.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447237436571916674" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S5h5t6oBADI/AAAAAAAAAPg/Iq_xgCeFdfY/s1600-h/emmett-the-english-springer-spaniel-4_33647_2009-09-04.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S5h5t6oBADI/AAAAAAAAAPg/Iq_xgCeFdfY/s400/emmett-the-english-springer-spaniel-4_33647_2009-09-04.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447237579042783282" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meet Sharma as a Labradoodle, another breed I'm in love with:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S5h6OZe1MeI/AAAAAAAAAPo/QJZIO_TpBxc/s1600-h/LabradoodlePuppyChocolate.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S5h6OZe1MeI/AAAAAAAAAPo/QJZIO_TpBxc/s400/LabradoodlePuppyChocolate.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447238137081573858" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S5h6TgPM-PI/AAAAAAAAAPw/doGmBEVblow/s1600-h/nikki-labradoodle.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 327px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S5h6TgPM-PI/AAAAAAAAAPw/doGmBEVblow/s400/nikki-labradoodle.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447238224794417394" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last time we had an animal was Chaco, our parakeet, he died.  He was an impulse buy, I decided I HAD to have him and just brought him home from the pet store one day.  Yes it was a rash decision but we both grew to love Chaco sooo much! I'm not serious about pooping in Justin's clothing...yet. But I do hope that once our lease is up he will let me get Sharma.  I do know that dogs are a big responsibility, honest! I want the responsibility.  I just want a little buddy to talk to and convince that I am the master of the universe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S5h-pAr0g4I/AAAAAAAAAP4/37gtq8SjLHY/s1600-h/kira-english-springer-spaniel-dog.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 340px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S5h-pAr0g4I/AAAAAAAAAP4/37gtq8SjLHY/s400/kira-english-springer-spaniel-dog.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447242992328147842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See how fun being a dog owner can be?  You can't say no to this face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-8480539543489311691?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8480539543489311691/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/03/poopies.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/8480539543489311691'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/8480539543489311691'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/03/poopies.html' title='Poopies'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S5h0SqUqqTI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/ENUCIDY3UT4/s72-c/CHRIS_SHARMA.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-507571224561108</id><published>2010-03-10T18:06:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-10T20:19:55.658-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Ex</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I was Godzilla once. I was mad and crazy and I crushed tiny villages. Well, the tiny village was my ex-boyfriends bedroom. Hmm, I should probably give Ex-Boyfriend a name. How about Ted Bundy? Okay, he wasn't creepy like that. We shall call him....(wow I can only think of explicit words).  Ralph? as in "please hold my hair while I ralph in the toilet".   Ralph it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, Ralph was my high school sweetheart. We met at the end of junior year. I then moved back home to North Carolina and we did a whole year long distance until I moved back to Utah.&lt;br /&gt;Well right before I moved back to Utah I met this return missionary. Months before, he (we shall call him Harry) came home, his family told me that he would be so into me, and we would hit it off and get married. I was SO his type. I took what they said with a grain of salt. I thought they were full of themselves, after all, he was a country boy, I was punk and dating Ralph long distance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Harry finally got home and we really did hit it off.&lt;br /&gt;We canoed, we horse back rode, we went wake-boarding and went to the Lynard Skynard Reunion concert together. He even kissed me, kind of, for a second I thought a chicken had attacked me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day finally came when all of the fun ended, Harry drove me to the airport, I said my goodbyes to the family and off to Utah I went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My welcome back to Utah wasn't very warm. After my fling with Harry, I couldn't help but feel resentment for being with Ralph. Although it clearly wasn't his fault, I had met someone else. After being back a week, I told Ralph that we should take a break. That after all of that time being apart, I just wasn't sure of things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also received a phone call from Harry. He said that after I just left so quickly out of his life, he had to see if something was there. He was already in Tennessee, driving his way out to Utah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Harry arrived. I had, what was then "the time of my life". It was short and sweet, and I found out how horrible of a kisser he was, but hey, I could look past that (he was a fresh R.M. and I was his first make-out since being home, give him a break)...our chemistry together was undeniable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After Harry left, Ralph showed up on my doorstep with a bouquet of flowers. He had his fling (kissed another girl) and wanted me back, I was bored so I agreed. Okay. I must say I wasn't that HORRIBLY bored. I really felt obligated to be with Ralph, like I owed him something because he waited a year for me, and we did love each other. I needed to make things work, but I also didn't want to lose touch with Harry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, mine and Harry's phone calls died down. Ralph found out about Harry, Ralph was PISSED! Needless to say things went down hill with Ralph after that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the last few months of our relationship during a time I like to call Hell, after we had broken up maybe 5 times a week, it was finally over. Oh yeah and after I basically destroyed his room taking everything I ever gave him and crushed it like the Hulk. I took the t-shirts I had gotten him and ripped them in half. I kid you not! I saw a side of myself that I never knew existed and I was ashamed that he had brought that out of me.&lt;br /&gt;I was sick of the blaming, the one-sided relationship. He acted like, because of my fling with Harry, I had to earn his trust back as if I cheated on him! Sorry, but we were on a break and his little bird lips weren't very innocent then either. I spent many Sundays crying to my church bishop, who was like a father to me, about what was going on. He strongly urged me to end the relationship, but I couldn't, not yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honestly, if I would have known how happy I would be when it was over, I would have done it sooner. It drove me crazy, and a relationship that brings out the worst traits in you is not healthy! The person you are with should bring out all of your good qualities, in my opinion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After I broke up with Ralph, I started dating my now husband, who has luckily never seen my Godzilla side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Harry is also married to an amazing woman.  I couldn't imagine any girl more perfect for Harry. They also have a darling little girl. I'm glad Harry and I are still friends. I looked up to him back then. He showed me what it was like to be with an R.M. I deserved a young man who held church standards and could teach the gospel. Being a convert, that is important to me. I got Justin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As far as I know, after Ralph and I broke up he started smoking, drinking, went to a strip club, got tattoos and piercings, fell away from the church and started dating girls that were way too young for him. The last few times that I have heard from Ralph were just drunken phone calls at 2 in the morning, well into a year after Justin and I had started dating. It's been two years, and I really don't know or care what he's up to now. But one thing is for sure..........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dodged a bullet with that one ladies and gents!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-507571224561108?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/507571224561108/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/03/ex.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/507571224561108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/507571224561108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/03/ex.html' title='The Ex'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-143770180563746882</id><published>2010-03-08T22:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T19:44:21.398-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lost Dog.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S5cVfxbxryI/AAAAAAAAAPI/IKTkSScARtQ/s1600-h/2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S5cVfxbxryI/AAAAAAAAAPI/IKTkSScARtQ/s400/2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446845909917871906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I have a stuffed puppy I have had ever since I arrived on this earth.  His name is Felicia. I don't know why I named him that, I thought it sounded pretty when I was little and I knew Felicia was apparently a boy. He looked like a boy, duh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I was going to write a lonnnggg post about how he went missing and how I love him and how he still sleeps in the bed with me even though I'm married, but alas! I found him where my husband keeps his shoes. It's been a year since I saw him, and I was afraid I had left him in a hotel room some where because I SERIOUSLY take him everywhere.  Justin is snuggling with Felicia right now. I'm glad he doesn't care about our tight nit relationship. I would freak if I ever lost that stuffed puppy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just thought you'd all like to know this so it will make my weird meter rise up a notch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have a good night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Val &amp;amp; Felicia BFFFFF's forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-143770180563746882?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/143770180563746882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/03/lost-dog.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/143770180563746882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/143770180563746882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/03/lost-dog.html' title='Lost Dog.'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S5cVfxbxryI/AAAAAAAAAPI/IKTkSScARtQ/s72-c/2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-4528759851048828747</id><published>2010-03-06T14:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-06T15:01:45.871-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Octo-Val</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I was at work today and one of my residents, Ute Fan, drew me this.  She said "here, this is you" and giggled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s13.photobucket.com/albums/a251/valkez/?action=view&amp;amp;current=comparecollage.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a251/valkez/comparecollage.jpg" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Heavens to Betsy, we have a Picasso prodigy on our hands!&lt;br /&gt;I quickly ran to the bathroom, looked in the mirror to make sure nothing had sprung up on my face in the last hour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ute fan reassured me that this was me as an Octopus.&lt;br /&gt;I can totally see the resemblance now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-L.G.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-4528759851048828747?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4528759851048828747/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/03/octo-val.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/4528759851048828747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/4528759851048828747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/03/octo-val.html' title='Octo-Val'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-7966741657511445122</id><published>2010-03-05T09:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-05T11:07:08.412-08:00</updated><title type='text'>To write or not to write?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Lately I have really enjoyed writing about my experiences.  I would continue writing if I knew that what I wrote wouldn't be taken out of context or blown out of proportion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thing with me though, is I have gotten over a lot of happenings from my past.  They are things I can look at and say that I'm not happy about them, but, they shaped me.  Made me the person I am. The person I LOVE that I am.  I think in some ways if I could continue writing- it would help inspire others who have been in similar situations.  In fact I KNOW I can inspire others.  Maybe someday down the road I can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Healing/Changing/Forgetting is very hard for some people and I forgot that maybe other people hadn't acknowledged those things, rather, shoved them in a corner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I forget that I am under different circumstances.  My healing/changing/forgetting process sped up when I joined The Church, and it's in my nature to make the best of my horrible situations.  I'm not at all trying to say I'm "special" or "better", just that I understand that writing about my past may hurt others more than it hurts me, because I have a different understanding and interpretation of life in general.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I wrote that post about my brother Chubsy, my family's reaction was not negative.  They felt that it was bitter-sweet, and my oldest brother was a bit jealous that the post wasn't about him.  My brother's are my hero's and not including them in my writing would be robbery.  I want to write about our hardships together, it is what has bound us.  We always, always have each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I deleted the post (Chubsy Ubsy Partner in Crime)  because I feel that it may be contributing to some unnecessary drama in the family at the moment.   Luckily it isn't THE drama, because I would feel bad if I had caused that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will just wait till things smooth over. Then hopefully get back to the scheduled programming!&lt;br /&gt;Until then, I will stick to writing about me, and me only. Selfish but entertaining right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love writing,&lt;br /&gt;-The L.G.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-7966741657511445122?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7966741657511445122/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/03/to-write-or-not-to-write.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/7966741657511445122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/7966741657511445122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/03/to-write-or-not-to-write.html' title='To write or not to write?'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-5507097764462632029</id><published>2010-03-03T18:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-03T18:37:27.802-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Art Show Questionables. Your Thoughts?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I would have never thought about entering any of my photos into an art show, but my teacher really loved the photo of the head sculpture and talked me into it. I would like to know your thoughts though. Which is your favorite? These are all film photos that I developed myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My love for film is unconditional. &lt;br /&gt;Film can borrow my clothes and never return them.&lt;br /&gt;Film can have extra servings of dessert and never look fat. &lt;br /&gt;Film can have an affair with my husband, yet, I will still love film.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. Be patient if the files take a while to load. Sorry : )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#1&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s13.photobucket.com/albums/a251/valkez/?action=view&amp;amp;current=artshowbirdhouse.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a251/valkez/artshowbirdhouse.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s13.photobucket.com/albums/a251/valkez/?action=view&amp;amp;current=artshowbulbs.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a251/valkez/artshowbulbs.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s13.photobucket.com/albums/a251/valkez/?action=view&amp;amp;current=artshowhead.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a251/valkez/artshowhead.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#4&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s13.photobucket.com/albums/a251/valkez/?action=view&amp;amp;current=artshowgreenhouse.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a251/valkez/artshowgreenhouse.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This one is just for fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s13.photobucket.com/albums/a251/valkez/?action=view&amp;amp;current=artshowval.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a251/valkez/artshowval.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love, Valen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-5507097764462632029?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5507097764462632029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/03/art-show-questionables-your-thoughts.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/5507097764462632029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/5507097764462632029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/03/art-show-questionables-your-thoughts.html' title='Art Show Questionables. Your Thoughts?'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-2919501271047550631</id><published>2010-03-02T23:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-03T14:16:49.921-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Side Show Val.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I think our teacher's affect us a lot as individuals as we are growing up.  I mean, they are pretty much our parental figures for half of the day from age 5 years up to 18.  We would be robbing them if we said we didn't learn a thing from them wouldn't we?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In kindergarten I LOVED my teachers.  I always got in to trouble, always.  But, I still felt love when I was around them.  Even though Miss Kirk took me to the principal's office for putting sand down Amy's pants, still there was love. Even though I poked Rob in the eyes, still there was love.  They showed me mercy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In first grade I had Mrs. Miller.  She hid candy in the cupboards.  I always found it.  I think she liked me okay, but I always talked with my hands in my mouth. She yelled at me one day to STOP biting my nails.  It startled me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't remember second grade all too well. The kid that sat next to me ate all of the glue.  He'd squirt a huge white glob out onto his tongue and stick it out at me, as if to say "Ha ha I ate the glue, none for you".  As if I was supposed to be jealous?! Idiot, I thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm pretty sure that was the year that I taught a little girl on the bus how to cuss. I beat up a boy on the play ground and the kids all cheered.  I told Rob it was over because he wouldn't dance with me (even though the fact that we were "together" was news to him).  I danced in my underwear with my best friends to a Michael Jackson song at my first big sleepover.  Oh and Chubsy Ubsy puked in a kids jacket hood on the bus....poor kid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In third grade I only remember being yelled at by Mrs. White.  She looked like a witch. She dug her nails into my skin and jerked me around when I wouldn't do what I was told.  One day I overdosed myself on Ritalin so I could behave better for her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In fourth grade I remember Mrs. Beck throwing my desk to the ground because it was messy.  I had never experienced so much rage from a teacher. I cried as she threw all of my things in the trash. So what? I'm a pack rat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In fifth grade I was jealous of all of the other girls because Mr. Williams payed them lots of attention.  He would strum on his guitar and add one of the girl's names to the song.  Sometimes he would let them sit on his lap.  I was a bad student, always talking, never really listened even when I tried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So needless to say, not even my teachers could handle or wanted to handle me.  I blame it on my A.D.D.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A word of advice for those dealing with someone who has been diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder: You may want to be prepared to have a live Circus on hand at any given moment.  These days it's probably the only thing that could keep my attention long enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you should be aware that: Grades will suffer, we will fidget, bite our nails, tap our feet and be extremely unorganized and messy. We have selective hearing and can't focus on any given thing or multi-task.  We also start many hobbies and projects and never finish.  It's not that we don't have time to finish projects, we just lose interest quickly.  We get bored easily with jobs and relationships.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though I think relationships are what I have cherished most and have had luck keeping. There is hope after all.  I proved the scientists wrong. HA!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What have I learned?&lt;br /&gt;Teacher's aren't tough, and you never realize they are humans until you are older.  I'm sure they showed me as much patience as they could bare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s13.photobucket.com/albums/a251/valkez/?action=view&amp;amp;current=squirrels.png" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a251/valkez/squirrels.png" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the story of my life!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;L.G.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-2919501271047550631?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2919501271047550631/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/03/side-show-val.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/2919501271047550631'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/2919501271047550631'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/03/side-show-val.html' title='Side Show Val.'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-5245749826250861852</id><published>2010-03-01T16:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-01T16:41:07.709-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Defeated.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Today was a hard day.  I accepted defeat.  I tried really hard to push to the end, but not hard enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am in a drawing class that is required for graduation but doesn't really help me with my goal to be a photographer.  This is an intro class, so I went in thinking it would be no big deal.  The teacher would see that I could give it my all and pass me on effort alone.  Every assignment that I have handed in so far has been given back to me with red scribbles saying "come on Val, you can do this"...."show me you know this" "fix" or "redo".  I re-did all of my assignments and handed them back in last week.  Still not good enough.  He didn't change any of my grades because I still couldn't draw a perfect ellipse or my perspective drawings weren't what he was looking for.  My teacher does not give you a grade UNLESS you can do it right.  Almost 2 months in and I am still failing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My frustration is this:  How is it that a teacher expects you to magically learn to draw one day when everyone else that is in that class is there to draw for a living, they have a gift that they have been taming since they were young.  HOW IN THE WORLD IS THIS AN INTRO CLASS? Don't you think this class should be at a learning level where even the crappiest of crap can do this?  OR am I really that stupid?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I left in the middle of class today not able to hold back the tears.  I tried, I really did.  Needless to say, I have decided to drop the class.  I will try again another day in the future, with a different teacher.  I just can't let this hurt my GPA. I won't waste my time and lose what sanity I have left from this forsaken class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-L.G.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-5245749826250861852?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5245749826250861852/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/03/defeated.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/5245749826250861852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/5245749826250861852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/03/defeated.html' title='Defeated.'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-3862727646354492607</id><published>2010-02-27T23:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-28T12:40:16.227-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Volume One of Valen Hood</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I don't mean this lightly when I say I will get what I deserve.  What I mean when I say this is the day will come when the world will tremble, the sky will darken and the rivers will flood when I bare my very own Valen reincarnate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You may think it doesn't sound so bad, however, only my mother knows how bad I could make the Earth shake. Let me elaborate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We will start with preschool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like to think of myself as a little girl version of Robin Hood, rather, Valen Hood, "Steal from the rich and give to the poor".  I knew a rich snotty girl when she crossed my path.  I met the first of its species while coloring next to Miss Goody-two-shoes at my first day of preschool.  Her picture was VERY pretty and I was rather envious.  Her tree's were very round and fluffy and the sky very colorful.  It was so pretty that it almost pained me to see it sitting next to my ugly scribbles. No, it didn't almost pain me, it did pain me. I hated that stupid picture and I hated her instantly and her glorious talent.  So much so, that as soon as she turned her back I put my scribbles on every inch of her drawing. Ohhhh it felt sooo good.  That was until she started screaming and crying. Oh great, what a drama queen.  Moments later I was sent to the the naughty stool in the corner where all of the kids in my preschool class crowded around me, pointed their fingers and like a chorus of motorcycles speeding off and changing gears into the distance "ooohhhh ooohhh ooooh", they oo'd at me. HOW REDICULOUS is that? I just did them a favor by crushing miss Goody-two-shoe's self esteem and all I get is their mockery, their "ooo oooing"!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This meant war.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last encounter I remember with Goody-two-shoes, was the time she snatched and ran with my chocolate chip cookie as I was about to shovel it into my mouth.  No one steals cookies from me!  She payed for it after I chased her down and bit the ever living crap out of her shoulder. She had to go to the hospital to get stitches, and it was back to the naughty stool and the oo-ooing for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's fine. I could suffer like Braveheart.  Valen Hood shows no mercy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is only a small pinch of an example of how merciless I could be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;The L.G.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I dedicate this post to my favorite big blue monster. Yes I'm talking about you Cookie Monster.&lt;br /&gt;You were always my favorite on Sesame Street. I am glad we can share our affinity for cookies together : )  You would have bit her too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also I just wanted to say that I appreciate all of the comments that you guys leave.  I read each and every one of them, and it makes me happy to get your feedback and thoughts!&lt;br /&gt;A lot of you I know in my personal life, and some are blog buddies, some strictly beloved blog stalkers (which I welcome).&lt;br /&gt;Either way, I love you all the same in this blogging community.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have now opened up comments for anyone, not just bloggers. In fact I didn't even know I had it set to limiting who could and couldn't comment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh jeez, I can see my brother Chubsy leaving gross, perverted comments already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-3862727646354492607?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3862727646354492607/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/02/volume-one-of-valenhood.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/3862727646354492607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/3862727646354492607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/02/volume-one-of-valenhood.html' title='Volume One of Valen Hood'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-2218118388418480310</id><published>2010-02-26T11:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-26T11:36:14.937-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A new side.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Every night I lay in bed thinking about all of the things I really want to write about.  The only problem is, is that I have a lot of personal, deep, dark, feelings and memories.  How personal should a public blog get and who would I hurt in the process? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read a lot of messed up memoirs, currently The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls.  Her life compared to mine was a holocaust.  I found a lot of similarities though, in her life experiences and mine, and it made me feel not so alone in my thoughts. It made me feel alive and so glad to be where I am.  My mom reads this blog occasionally and I can imagine her saying "I gave you everything!  You had a very privileged life!".  Indeed I did. But what about all of the other emotionally taxing memories I have of the past that I am stuck with?  Don't you see that it's usually experiences you went through that matter and not so much the things you were given and privileged with?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My life is now a complete 360 from what I imagine it could have been had I not been:&lt;br /&gt;Given a mother that is a free spirit&lt;br /&gt;Shipped to my Dad at the age of 14&lt;br /&gt;Had I not moved in with the LDS family when I was 16,&lt;br /&gt;Had I not joined The Church&lt;br /&gt;Had I not moved back to North Carolina when I was 17,&lt;br /&gt; and Back to Utah when I was 18,&lt;br /&gt; and met Justin when I was 19.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What matters most to me is how I am living my life now.   I will be changing a whole generation of children that I will bring into this world some day.  They will have it good and I want it that way.  I want them to be spoiled with love every second of every day.  They will know that home is a place that they can turn to.  Two people will be there to accept them always.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look back now and I feel like THE LUCKIEST girl in the entire world.&lt;br /&gt;Because! My life has turned in to something great, a fairytale come true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My raising may have not been ideal, but, I was raised right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What say ye to hearing my life experiences? The funny ones, like digging through trashcans for bottle caps? I promise, they are entertaining especially when you put my 2 brothers in the mix!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love, The Lady Girl&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-2218118388418480310?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2218118388418480310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/02/new-side.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/2218118388418480310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/2218118388418480310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/02/new-side.html' title='A new side.'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-5558878305447638170</id><published>2010-02-23T15:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-23T20:22:50.844-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fanny Pack Awareness Day &amp; A Somewhat Contributing Story</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Story Time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I think of fanny packs, I am reminded of this:&lt;br /&gt;I was a little girl of 9 (maybe or somewhere close to 9) when my mom and step-dad had decided to enlist the family in a beach combing gig.  This wasn't a gig that my brothers and I signed up for particularly, however there was a prize.  Budweiser Beer, whom my Step-dad was a big fan of, had a prized point system for the number of beer bottle caps that were collected.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Objective Prize: A foosball table.&lt;br /&gt;Bottle caps needed to win said foosball table: Thousands.&lt;br /&gt;Alcohol consumed in my home to collect more bottle caps: A LOT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So for months, every weekend my blue Little Mermaid fanny pack and myself went to numerous beaches and parks in the area where lots of booze was consumed and where we were guaranteed handfuls of caps.  We dug our hands in the sand, we ravaged through trash cans despite the bees, and we approached people and snatched their caps (if only they knew how precious they were).  At the end of the day, after my step-dad had already made sure we checked every trashcan twice, I'd empty out my mermaid fanny pack and sulk because there still wasn't enough bottle caps which meant the next weekend we'd do it all over again, plus my fanny pack now smelled like the trash cans we had been digging in + beer.&lt;br /&gt;The deadline finally came and we sent our bottle caps in.  I really didn't care what happened, I just didn't want to dig through any more smelly trashcans; from an outsider's point of view you'd think we were homeless and starving, and I was ashamed to be seen doing so.  Weeks passed and I had since forgotten the whole gig and had even chucked the forsaken fanny pack when we finally received our much deserved foosball table.  I don't really remember being proud or excited about it, I only remember the laboring part (and fanny pack), so, this story ends here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The main reason for this post is because of an up and coming occasion.  I am collecting caps! HA just kidding!  Justin and I are going to The Sasquatch Music Festival in Quincy, Washington in May.  If you have ever been to a concert you have experienced the inconvenience that a bulky purse can cause. Even putting your stuff in your pockets is risky. So, to make life easier when spending countless hours in the sunlight, fighting crowds and the worry of something being lost or stolen I have devised a plan to find the PERFECT fanny pack. Well not really a plan, but, I will find the best fanny packs and show you "anti-fanny's" that they can be cool and they will, OH YES, they will be back!  I will show you the do's and don't's of fanny packs so that your children and peers won't be embarrassed to be seen next to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s13.photobucket.com/albums/a251/valkez/?action=view&amp;amp;current=fannypackdont2.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a251/valkez/fannypackdont2.jpg" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s13.photobucket.com/albums/a251/valkez/?action=view&amp;amp;current=fannydontcollage.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a251/valkez/fannydontcollage.jpg" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s13.photobucket.com/albums/a251/valkez/?action=view&amp;amp;current=fannypackdo1.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a251/valkez/fannypackdo1.jpg" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clockwise: &lt;a href="http://www.redbirdstyle.etsy.com/"&gt;Redbirdstyle&lt;/a&gt; . &lt;a href="http://www.madeinholland.etsy.com/"&gt;MadeinHolland&lt;/a&gt; . &lt;a href="http://www.onanya.etsy.com/"&gt;Onanya&lt;/a&gt; . &lt;a href="http://www.madebyloumms.etsy.com/"&gt;MadebyLoumms&lt;/a&gt; . &lt;a href="http://www.maytreeark.etsy.com/"&gt;Maytreeark&lt;/a&gt; . &lt;a href="http://www.epintado.etsy.com/"&gt;Epintado&lt;/a&gt; .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s13.photobucket.com/albums/a251/valkez/?action=view&amp;amp;current=Fannypackdo2.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a251/valkez/Fannypackdo2.jpg" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clockwise: &lt;a href="http://www.kersplash.etsy.com/"&gt;Kersplash&lt;/a&gt; . &lt;a href="http://www.maytreeark.etsy.com/"&gt;Maytreeark&lt;/a&gt; . &lt;a href="http://www.sketchbook.etsy.com/"&gt;Sketchbook&lt;/a&gt; . &lt;a href="http://www.rubyzaar.etsy.com/"&gt;RubyZaar&lt;/a&gt; .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Try out the fanny pack &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;hat&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; if you dare&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S4SaGqQMpxI/AAAAAAAAAOY/T5rQ9P2QTIA/s1600-h/fanny-pack-for-head.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 387px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S4SaGqQMpxI/AAAAAAAAAOY/T5rQ9P2QTIA/s400/fanny-pack-for-head.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441643688982521618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With love,&lt;br /&gt;My alter-ego The Lady Girl&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-5558878305447638170?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5558878305447638170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/02/fanny-pack-awareness-day-somewhat.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/5558878305447638170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/5558878305447638170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/02/fanny-pack-awareness-day-somewhat.html' title='Fanny Pack Awareness Day &amp; A Somewhat Contributing Story'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S4SaGqQMpxI/AAAAAAAAAOY/T5rQ9P2QTIA/s72-c/fanny-pack-for-head.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-5633765893400143659</id><published>2010-02-20T12:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-20T14:24:00.998-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Child playing Ukelele and singing/mumbling "I'm Yours"</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ErMWX--UJZ4&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ErMWX--UJZ4&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ohhh, I'm melttinngg because this is sooo cute!&lt;br /&gt;it's funny because I sing like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-5633765893400143659?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5633765893400143659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/02/child-playing-ukelele-and.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/5633765893400143659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/5633765893400143659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/02/child-playing-ukelele-and.html' title='Child playing Ukelele and singing/mumbling &quot;I&apos;m Yours&quot;'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-8827424703077478136</id><published>2010-02-18T22:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-18T23:26:08.658-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Ladies Camper Trailer! Step Aside Manly Men!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;A couple of months ago I was at Apartmenttherapy.com, which by the way is the coolest decor inspiration site there is...anyways, they were featuring modern (green) campers and well, I was thinking of those tonight and did some research and found these.  With the widest most sincere gooey eyes I thought "Can this be true? The most cutest camper's I ever did see? Is it truuee. Is it trueeee?".  I AM IN LOVE. &lt;br /&gt;You know that song&lt;br /&gt;"I'm in love with a stripper"? By T-Pain (not that I really listen to that stuff [don't tell my mom-in-law])  Instead I'm singing "I'm in love with a camper, she roll'n, she roll'n"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s13.photobucket.com/albums/a251/valkez/?action=view&amp;amp;current=constancecollage.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a251/valkez/constancecollage.jpg" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s13.photobucket.com/albums/a251/valkez/?action=view&amp;amp;current=aquacampercollage.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a251/valkez/aquacampercollage.jpg" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s13.photobucket.com/albums/a251/valkez/?action=view&amp;amp;current=6a00d8341ca93053ef01156fbcf5b7970c-.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a251/valkez/6a00d8341ca93053ef01156fbcf5b7970c-.jpg" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recycled trailor society: Trailor trash has a new definition.  It's beside the word "Awesome" in the dictionary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Photo's from the first collage were found &lt;a href="http://www.daisychainae.blogspot.com/"&gt;HERE.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;VW Camper found &lt;a href="http://www.vwcampervanblog.com/"&gt;HERE.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yellow, Aqua, White camper found &lt;a href="http://www.delightfully-tacky.com/"&gt;HERE.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Camper with the snowcone on top found &lt;a href="http://www.hulaseventy.com/"&gt;HERE.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aqua with white trim camper found via google (sorry, I lost the link)&lt;br /&gt;Trailer Society found &lt;a href="http://www.bushafullofgrace.typepad.com/"&gt;HERE.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope you enjoyed the collages I put together! I think I will be making more of those!  V.W. Busses and bugs are next on the list!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Lady Girl Val&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-8827424703077478136?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8827424703077478136/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/02/ladies-camper-trailer-step-aside-manly.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/8827424703077478136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/8827424703077478136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/02/ladies-camper-trailer-step-aside-manly.html' title='A Ladies Camper Trailer! Step Aside Manly Men!'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-2364139008095267760</id><published>2010-02-17T22:21:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-17T22:27:12.954-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Gettin' Punk'd By a ONE year old.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-dc7824a3d83a97ce" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v14.nonxt8.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Ddc7824a3d83a97ce%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1332883083%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3DA698F4BAC9838A7C6D120AB52B6BDA1CDEEC998.5EC63C1578BDAFA6223EF86ED9B3DF4EBE38DFF7%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Ddc7824a3d83a97ce%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DqYRrxUEW1LB8un6SjL6es7Ccoe8&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v14.nonxt8.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Ddc7824a3d83a97ce%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1332883083%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3DA698F4BAC9838A7C6D120AB52B6BDA1CDEEC998.5EC63C1578BDAFA6223EF86ED9B3DF4EBE38DFF7%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Ddc7824a3d83a97ce%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DqYRrxUEW1LB8un6SjL6es7Ccoe8&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my back-up nephew (neighbor) Joshua.  He can be such a punk sometimes picking on me.  It totally brought back memories of being stuck in a locker in the 6th grade (yes that really happened).  I later went home, cried and ate a whole pizza by myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-2364139008095267760?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2364139008095267760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/02/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/2364139008095267760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/2364139008095267760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/02/blog-post.html' title='Gettin&apos; Punk&apos;d By a ONE year old.'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-1382535456268061253</id><published>2010-02-15T00:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-15T01:22:43.545-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I put the Valen in Valentine's Day!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;(please excuse the ugly layout of the blog. I want to display bigger pictures so pardon it's blandness while I find a proper layout)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s13.photobucket.com/albums/a251/valkez/?action=view&amp;amp;current=IMG_7215vday7-1.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a251/valkez/IMG_7215vday7-1.jpg" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the only good picture we were able to get together. I'm the cute one anyways : P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s13.photobucket.com/albums/a251/valkez/?action=view&amp;amp;current=valentinescollage.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a251/valkez/valentinescollage.jpg" alt="Valentine's Collage 2010" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I first came home sort of in a crummy mood because Justin worked doubles Saturday and we wouldn't be able to celebrate V-day.  Most people think that V-day was created by greeting card companies and tend to opt out.  I differ! I have always been thrilled for Valentine's Day, my birthday is the 4th so February has always been a fun, colorful, cake and candy filled, lovely month! Plus, I love any excuse to celebrate ANYTHING! So you can see my dilemma. Here I was thinking that I would be forgotten this year, but, when I opened our front door there sat a display of 5 hot pink roses, 20 cans of Dr. Pepper the "Fir Tree Couple Print" that I found on Etsy, and the best love letter I have read in a long while! He totally beat me this year.  I got him flowers too, but we both know I enjoy them more. When Justin was a kid he loved reading the dictionary, remembering this little fact I purchased this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S3kNa5sdPAI/AAAAAAAAAOA/LnVKNYNfXTw/s1600-h/clx-pictorial-websters-dictionary-2009-de.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 313px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S3kNa5sdPAI/AAAAAAAAAOA/LnVKNYNfXTw/s400/clx-pictorial-websters-dictionary-2009-de.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438392780841630722" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know he'll love it! *still waiting on delivery*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And this is going in a frame above our bed:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S3kOPhYoF9I/AAAAAAAAAOI/TJkwlWonAAg/s1600-h/il_430xN.113263266.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 319px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S3kOPhYoF9I/AAAAAAAAAOI/TJkwlWonAAg/s400/il_430xN.113263266.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438393684849072082" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I stayed up till 2 a.m. making lots of cupcakes (and taking pictures).  They are all gone now (thanks to my primary kids, justin and his young men and the neighbors). They were way fun to decorate!  I also wore my new grandma style shoes (refer to collage) to church along with a floral high waist skirt and red cardigan to be festive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anywho, that's how I roll. Hope Valentine's Day was an awesome excuse for you to do something extra sweet for the one you love.  Goodnight!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Val&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-1382535456268061253?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1382535456268061253/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/02/enough-is-enough-its-eact-same-word-v.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/1382535456268061253'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/1382535456268061253'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/02/enough-is-enough-its-eact-same-word-v.html' title='I put the Valen in Valentine&apos;s Day!'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S3kNa5sdPAI/AAAAAAAAAOA/LnVKNYNfXTw/s72-c/clx-pictorial-websters-dictionary-2009-de.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-6502437486113430817</id><published>2010-02-12T12:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-12T12:22:16.419-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ode to Chris Farley</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S3W3LeIiQYI/AAAAAAAAAN4/16HDGmTkTw4/s1600-h/images.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 85px; height: 107px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S3W3LeIiQYI/AAAAAAAAAN4/16HDGmTkTw4/s400/images.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437453532815049090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;R.I.P.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Every time I think of Chris Farley, my heart breaks. He has given me so much to laugh about. The day Chris Farley died, heaven got it's fat jolly angel back. And, I always think that it was such a comedic waste that he's gone, he totally trumps Will Farrell. So I hereby dedicate this day to Chris Farley. I will leave you now with some photos and a video of this fat guy in a little coat, and then I'm going to watch Tommy Boy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. One of my special needs guys is totally the spitting image of Chris Farley, it is awesomeness, his name is Chris too, I should get his autograph.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S3W26yQxJCI/AAAAAAAAANg/KiVdILyfReA/s1600-h/Chippendale_20skit.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 364px; height: 318px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S3W26yQxJCI/AAAAAAAAANg/KiVdILyfReA/s400/Chippendale_20skit.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437453246160512034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My favorite Chris SNL moment.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S3W3BZamJZI/AAAAAAAAANo/Bx3XK1oBzB0/s1600-h/images-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 116px; height: 116px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S3W3BZamJZI/AAAAAAAAANo/Bx3XK1oBzB0/s400/images-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437453359749932434" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S3W3GcXvu4I/AAAAAAAAANw/mnzhzXzspEE/s1600-h/images-2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 127px; height: 82px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S3W3GcXvu4I/AAAAAAAAANw/mnzhzXzspEE/s400/images-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437453446442630018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/qEnU-9jUZG4&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/qEnU-9jUZG4&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This video I dedicate to the guys over at MBP: they need all the help they can get with the ladies these days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who's your favorite little rascal?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-6502437486113430817?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/6502437486113430817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/02/ode-to-chris-farley_12.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/6502437486113430817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/6502437486113430817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/02/ode-to-chris-farley_12.html' title='Ode to Chris Farley'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S3W3LeIiQYI/AAAAAAAAAN4/16HDGmTkTw4/s72-c/images.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-4387597425765937708</id><published>2010-02-10T08:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-10T09:25:17.101-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Man I feel awesome!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S3LkY6q9cSI/AAAAAAAAAMw/xUfLgEjTu7A/s1600-h/IMG_7026+mefishey.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S3LkY6q9cSI/AAAAAAAAAMw/xUfLgEjTu7A/s400/IMG_7026+mefishey.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436658816907047202" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love playing with new lenses. Lensbaby:Fisheye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S3LkQ8bpf9I/AAAAAAAAAMo/yDWVWZwOhgQ/s1600-h/IMG_7022+JH+new+bike.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S3LkQ8bpf9I/AAAAAAAAAMo/yDWVWZwOhgQ/s400/IMG_7022+JH+new+bike.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436658679940743122" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm also very happy that Justin has his dream bike now (the last one was stolen from our front porch-gotta love living in Downtown Salt Lake). It's a vintage touring bike from France, I don't know how to spell it but it's pronounced Pee-oh-jay (the "J" is more like a -sh- sound).  They don't make this bike anymore so you know it's extra special.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S3LkA3pAtuI/AAAAAAAAAMg/MNvM6HWgf9k/s1600-h/IMG_7117+christie+and+I-hop.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S3LkA3pAtuI/AAAAAAAAAMg/MNvM6HWgf9k/s400/IMG_7117+christie+and+I-hop.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436658403776706274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Meet Christie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I love it when a friend from afar makes time for me on a quick trip.  The other day I found a mixed CD in storage from when we were sixteen (6 years ago). We made it together and It's labeled "Val &amp;amp; Christie are Hot" &amp;amp; "Your my best friend and that's all there is to it" inscribed are little hearts and stars.  She is my best friend indeed.  One day Christie begged her parents to let me come home with her (I was on my way to the pound).  I lived with her family for a few months when I was sixteen because things weren't going so well in my own home.  A few months later I was baptized into the LDS church. My life changed immensely after that.  I'm very grateful for that time in my life and love the people who shared it with me.  Looking back the only thing I regret are the songs on that ancient CD. Gwen Stefani, Taking Back Sunday, Tsunami Bomb, The Sounds, Rise Against and others...our tastes in music are on the other side of the spectrum now, and I'm glad.  It was nice to have this little piece of evidence showing our friendship.  Our future teenage kids will not let us forget our wicked-awesome taste in music though, I'm a little embarrassed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Say goodbye to the tangerine sky, say hello, say hello to tomorrow"&lt;br /&gt;Lyrics by: Kottonmouth Kings from Val &amp;amp; Christie are Hot mix.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S3LrwSjLVII/AAAAAAAAAM4/39zdoiAoEkM/s1600-h/n828690362_6056669_1689800.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 273px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S3LrwSjLVII/AAAAAAAAAM4/39zdoiAoEkM/s400/n828690362_6056669_1689800.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436666915035239554" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christie and I back in the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-4387597425765937708?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4387597425765937708/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/02/man-i-feel-awesome.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/4387597425765937708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/4387597425765937708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/02/man-i-feel-awesome.html' title='Man I feel awesome!'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S3LkY6q9cSI/AAAAAAAAAMw/xUfLgEjTu7A/s72-c/IMG_7026+mefishey.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-8291512521635877968</id><published>2010-02-09T13:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-09T23:34:04.485-08:00</updated><title type='text'>How're them goals comin' ?</title><content type='html'>I still don't know where this blog is going. It has only been about a month since I started the whole thing up. I would like to have the layout done professionally instead of the ready made just add water layouts that you see now. I don't really need a particular direction, it's just my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A while ago I wrote out my New Years goals. I have been doing better with scripture reading. When I made the goal, for a little over a week I read a chapter every night, and now that I'm a primary teacher I consider that a big part of my scripture reading in planning my lessons, except now I have stopped reading every night and just do it when I remember to or I'm not so tired. You would think that it shouldn't take much effort to open up a book and read a page or two, but some how I'm dragging my feet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spend every moment I can with Mr. Hunter. We are so busy these days that sometimes it can be difficult to find that time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As far as my 10 pound weight loss goes, I have been doing more rock-climbing, which helps my arm strength and that's it. 2 weeks ago I was running on a treadmill when I got this bright idea to try running with my eyes closed, before I knew it, as soon as I opened my eyes (it was too late) and flew off the back end= Big Fail! However, it did give me a moment to laugh at myself or exercise my abdominal muscles= WIN! My neighbor wants to start running (or wheezing is what we like to call it) in the afternoons. I'm glad because I need a support system to get things done&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am taking more pictures! I also am thoroughly EXCITED about my future career. I knew I wanted to be a photographer, but I couldn't pin down what area. I have finally landed on photojournalism. I feel my heart flutter when I think of the idea. I don't feel that way towards, portraiture or wedding photography. That was the route before but it seemed too cliche for me. Any soccer mom with a nice camera can learn to do that (okay-not everyone). In Utah there are a lot of low budget photographers willing to do that job though, and way too much competition. Any one who knows me well is aware that I don't take the easy route, EVER. So I am going to do my best and hope to get "there", and if I don't end up landing a job at the Salt Lake City Tribune or Elle magazine, Fine. I will get my barrings and eventually do what I love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, and I'm not doing so well with the fabric addiction. I bought 15 fat quarters the other day with no intention to use them. (there was a sale)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did have a really pretty collage of pictures to go with the post but I ended up deleting it because the quality was a bit too crummy for my liking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I usually feel guilty for not including a photo, but it'll just have to do.&lt;br /&gt;(that'll do pig, that'll do). I promise lots of pictures next time...maybe even my own *gasp*.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Val&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-8291512521635877968?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8291512521635877968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/02/inspired-by-beauty.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/8291512521635877968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/8291512521635877968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/02/inspired-by-beauty.html' title='How&apos;re them goals comin&apos; ?'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-1854800663977215497</id><published>2010-02-04T17:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-04T19:01:09.668-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The not so glorious, glorious day.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S2uHqxKZhWI/AAAAAAAAAMI/rknTGecmUag/s1600-h/IMG_7013.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S2uHqxKZhWI/AAAAAAAAAMI/rknTGecmUag/s320/IMG_7013.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434586544173843810" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;It's my turning 22 photo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;  Weeks before your own birthday you might put a lot of thought into what gifts you want or what you would like to do and who you want to invite to help you celebrate.  This year as I was about to turn the ripe old age of 22, It didn't even occur to me that a birthday was coming.  Monday while I was spending time at my neighbors house the occasion came up and I had totally forgotten that &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;my birthday is this week!&lt;/span&gt;  Yesterday my husband asked me what I would like to do for my Birthday and I felt a tiny pang of bitterness about the subject, like why should I be deciding this??It's my birthday, you plan it!  But, when isn't it always about deciding what YOU want for your birthday? Well, somehow this year the world decided to spin a different direction and, well, I just may like a surprise this year. So, It's here, today is my birthday and the only surprises I got was my usual monthly gift that ravaged my body in the middle of the night and a dead transmission. That leaves Justin and I, who have really busy schedules, with one vehicle.  This year I feel like my birthday was taken away and if I could find who took it, I would bite them so hard that it would draw blood, just like I did to the little girl who took my cookie that first year of pre-school.  It's like a magical, secret, hiding spot that only I knew about has been taken over and occupied by Nazis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I feel bitter.  Bitter that I'm another year older, bitter that today hasn't been a memorable one, bitter that Justin is at school late, bitter that I don't have a cake with candles to blow out, bitter that &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I am not a kid&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, bitter that I was born during a cold winter month when there is nothing to do at  8:00 at night.  Maybe I can consult my mother and see if we can move my birthday to a nice, hot summer night!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry you all have to read this.  When it's someone's birthday don't you hope that they have the best day ever?! Wouldn't it crush you to hear that it absolutely wasn't their best day ever?&lt;br /&gt;Well sorry to disappoint, but, I wouldn't say today's occurrences is something I want to relive.  However, I have had so many &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;good&lt;/span&gt; days in my year as a 21 year old! So many that it out weighs this horrid day.  That to me is more important than one day of gifts and cake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, now I raise my glass to all the people who have made many memorable days for me to live in.  You make turning another year older &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;worth while&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt; love&lt;/span&gt;, Val&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S2uJoSRJ8GI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/QNKFYkgWIAg/s1600-h/birthday-cakes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 292px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S2uJoSRJ8GI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/QNKFYkgWIAg/s400/birthday-cakes.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434588700544200802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my pretend birthday cake! It sure was delicious!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-1854800663977215497?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1854800663977215497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/02/not-so-glorious-glorious-day.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/1854800663977215497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/1854800663977215497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/02/not-so-glorious-glorious-day.html' title='The not so glorious, glorious day.'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S2uHqxKZhWI/AAAAAAAAAMI/rknTGecmUag/s72-c/IMG_7013.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-7461634064870184908</id><published>2010-01-26T19:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-26T19:55:35.274-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I was thinking...yep it's true, I was!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Nothing too important.  I was just thinking how picky I am when it comes to airplane seats.  No one prefers the middle, it's the worst of both worlds. Too far from the bathrooms and too far from the nice view downward.  I always get offended when I am seated in a middle seat and the person sitting beside me at the window chooses to shut the shade and fall asleep. In fact while they are sleeping I plan out the many things I could do to make them pee their pants. I wish hateful things upon them and their loved ones. BECAUSE! If I were ever so lucky to sit by the window I would spend every second admiring the plethora of fluffy clouds, spying little ant cars and day dreaming into the sunset.  But, as luck would have it I have a man beside me who is staring at me, an obnoxious Satan reincarnate kicking and screaming in the seat behind me and the horrible woman who HATES a good view.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S1-4oVsKxkI/AAAAAAAAAMA/A-tShhUXsaE/s1600-h/chubbyfail.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 221px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S1-4oVsKxkI/AAAAAAAAAMA/A-tShhUXsaE/s400/chubbyfail.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431262678788785730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the ideal way I would choose to fly!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-7461634064870184908?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7461634064870184908/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-was-thinkingyep-its-true-i-was.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/7461634064870184908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/7461634064870184908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-was-thinkingyep-its-true-i-was.html' title='I was thinking...yep it&apos;s true, I was!'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S1-4oVsKxkI/AAAAAAAAAMA/A-tShhUXsaE/s72-c/chubbyfail.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-8560529658991069149</id><published>2010-01-14T22:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-15T00:38:08.790-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Something I like to call Dreamland</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I don't know if you knew this (probably not) but I am an avid &lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-size:180%;" &gt;Etsian&lt;/span&gt;! Translation: I am addicted to &lt;a href="http://www.etsy.com/"&gt;ETSY!&lt;/a&gt;  It is a place where people all over the world sell all things handmade! Although a college student's budget can only stretch so far I have managed to purchase a few pieces of jewelry from there.  If you can't purchase anything it is a great place to blow a few hours just perusing.  I always look there when I need ideas on making my own Etsy worthy crafts.  Seriously go &lt;a href="http://www.etsy.com/"&gt;peek!&lt;/a&gt;   Below I have some examples of art I have recently discovered on Etsy.  If you are interested in their work I have also included a link to their shops.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; On a different note I was wondering if maybe I could share some up and coming thrift finds that I will be re-vamping?  I have picked up a couple things here and there at local thrift stores over the past few months that I have been meaning to spruce up and I think if I make it an obligation here to my now SEVEN readers I will most likely get them done and contributing to the Hunter society, population: 2, once and for all (but really I want to convince Mr. Hunter that I truly did buy them with purpose!).  Plus maybe it will give you some ideas of your own. Win+Win!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now on with our original broadcast :) Have a splendid Friday!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.thenebulouskingdom.etsy.com"&gt;The Nebulous Kingdom&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S1AXEpcgyBI/AAAAAAAAAK4/WRtYN556tws/s1600-h/il_430xN.115457034.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 325px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S1AXEpcgyBI/AAAAAAAAAK4/WRtYN556tws/s400/il_430xN.115457034.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426862919593805842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;(below) By: &lt;a href="http://www.thewheatfield.etsy.com"&gt;The Wheatfield&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S1AYT-FoYeI/AAAAAAAAALA/uiyJqI4lf9g/s1600-h/il_430xN.77504632.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 281px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S1AYT-FoYeI/AAAAAAAAALA/uiyJqI4lf9g/s400/il_430xN.77504632.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426864282344645090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(below) By: &lt;a href="http://www.tinatarnoff.etsy.com"&gt;Tina Tarnoff&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S1AY3Qs_9uI/AAAAAAAAALI/2H7gusfB1nc/s1600-h/il_430xN.110618787.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 298px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S1AY3Qs_9uI/AAAAAAAAALI/2H7gusfB1nc/s400/il_430xN.110618787.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426864888637028066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(below) By: &lt;a href="http://www.stephaniefizer.etsy.com"&gt;Stephanie Fizer&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S1AZz3rfI4I/AAAAAAAAALQ/zhE9kXvKNIg/s1600-h/il_430xN.112908212.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S1AZz3rfI4I/AAAAAAAAALQ/zhE9kXvKNIg/s400/il_430xN.112908212.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426865929891816322" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(below) By: &lt;a href="http://www.elsita.etsy.com"&gt;Elsita&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S1AcA445bGI/AAAAAAAAALY/b2lyRdAcNNc/s1600-h/il_430xN.100438177.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 309px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S1AcA445bGI/AAAAAAAAALY/b2lyRdAcNNc/s400/il_430xN.100438177.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426868352578055266" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(below) By: &lt;a href="http://www.corid.etsy.com"&gt;Corid&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S1AhJAXK_TI/AAAAAAAAALg/e8K-GLp6aiI/s1600-h/il_430xN.113725852.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S1AhJAXK_TI/AAAAAAAAALg/e8K-GLp6aiI/s400/il_430xN.113725852.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426873989581176114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next three make my heart smile. I love these prints!!!&lt;br /&gt;(below) By: &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S1AlzB9L3TI/AAAAAAAAALo/APDqvAehJ5k/s1600-h/il_430xN.109472311.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.thepoppytree.etsy.com"&gt;The Poppy Tree&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 312px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S1AlzB9L3TI/AAAAAAAAALo/APDqvAehJ5k/s400/il_430xN.109472311.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426879109610069298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S1Al5idQBmI/AAAAAAAAALw/4eOeO3JuULI/s1600-h/il_430xN.111863928.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 313px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S1Al5idQBmI/AAAAAAAAALw/4eOeO3JuULI/s400/il_430xN.111863928.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426879221413709410" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S1AmBBU2pzI/AAAAAAAAAL4/z0U_zoi7qTQ/s1600-h/il_430xN.113263266.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 319px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S1AmBBU2pzI/AAAAAAAAAL4/z0U_zoi7qTQ/s400/il_430xN.113263266.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426879349959075634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aww, It's Justin and I! My birthday is coming soon. I love this print.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-8560529658991069149?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8560529658991069149/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/something-i-like-to-call-dreamland.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/8560529658991069149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/8560529658991069149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/something-i-like-to-call-dreamland.html' title='Something I like to call Dreamland'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S1AXEpcgyBI/AAAAAAAAAK4/WRtYN556tws/s72-c/il_430xN.115457034.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-6187988855741551868</id><published>2010-01-06T12:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-07T01:33:00.887-08:00</updated><title type='text'>This is the year!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S0Wo_TERyUI/AAAAAAAAAKo/LXVUN4g7hH8/s1600-h/new-year-resolution.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 330px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S0Wo_TERyUI/AAAAAAAAAKo/LXVUN4g7hH8/s400/new-year-resolution.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423927131641071938" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I never usually make New Years resolutions and never have I ever kept the one's I have made, however, this year feels different. I have a feeling that I could make this year the best one yet if I set some goals!  On &lt;a href="http://www.ohbrooke.com/"&gt;OhBrooke!&lt;/a&gt; Brooke makes a valid point in making goals that you can keep like buying a new pair of shoes every month or eating at a new restaurant every week maybe even gaining 10 pounds in the next year would be an easy task.... Well normally I would settle for that, but I am setting goals this year. Very important one's! Drumroll please.........&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Read a Chapter in my scriptures every night&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Exercise more&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Lose 10 lbs. by May 2010&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Take more pictures&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;*accumulate at least 500 dollars in my savings account&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;*ask for God's help more often&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Read more books&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Stop buying fabric and use what I have (that's gonna be difficult!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Stop farting around The Mister so he'll be more attracted to me. Well he says he likes that I'm fine with farting, but I don't believe it.  I hope my mother-in-law never reads this because she HATES the word fart.  She would kill over if she found out I was saying such garbage!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Do more romantic things with The Mister.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Fall more in love with The Mister. (and my LOUD humidifier that you could also call a mister...)&lt;----that was corny, but it's staying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Feng Shui (Fung-Shway) my home. My friend did this to her room and it seems so peaceful! If I don't Feng Shui it then I will at least de-clutter and attempt to keep it up better.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Go to bed at a reasonable hour and wake up before 9 in the morning. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Do homework before it's due&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Watch every episode of 24 this season (easy enough) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;As you can see, I may be a little over my head in goals, but this is the year! I will be happier than the last if I at least attempt these goals.  I feel like they are more concrete since I have posted them on my blog, so all 4 of my readers will hold me to these resolutions!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;What are some of your resolutions for the year? Think quick! The Mayan Calendar says we only have 2 more years left!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-6187988855741551868?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/6187988855741551868/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/this-is-year.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/6187988855741551868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/6187988855741551868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/this-is-year.html' title='This is the year!'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S0Wo_TERyUI/AAAAAAAAAKo/LXVUN4g7hH8/s72-c/new-year-resolution.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-5310481469700076661</id><published>2010-01-05T01:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-05T02:32:30.683-08:00</updated><title type='text'>New Layout. Your thoughts?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I have a new layout here as you can see...mainly because it's pretty. But I'm not sure how certain I am about having it on this particular blog. Does it represent me well? Is it even my style? I noticed that some people see me as someone who has bright hot neon everything...but I actually love more natural hues, the colors of the earth...soft colors. I won't deny, I have awesome style...but that does not include loud colors all of the time with the exception of the occasional red, yellow and blue. Maybe when I was in high school, but Mummy, times have changed I stopped wearing Mermaid panties a long time ago. I have also stopped covering every inch of my body in roll on glitter. I am a new woman, almost 22 wouldn't cha know?! So. What should I do with this blog? I thought of having it professionally styled but attempted to make it look pro myself...I think I need to do more research until I find something I completly can't live with out! Whatcha think my 4 gracious followers? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I thought these were spice girls when I saved the picture...it's clearly not. I don't remember there being men in the group. Anywho...this is not me. I was a child of the eighties, but I don't partake of that style era.  I think there were a lot of fashion no-no's from that time that alot of us would like to forget (balloon pants).  Shockingly a lot of it is back in style.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423197957255360642" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S0MRzwzUcII/AAAAAAAAAKg/pFHl35WcMg4/s400/Rave-Clothing-739489.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;(Below) This is the style I like to emulate. I even have the same hair style.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 348px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423196378633700978" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S0MQX3-lhnI/AAAAAAAAAKY/EhHE2JPe49I/s400/Sari_zooey1.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;So basically you understand that I like old-fashioned, classy, retro style.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-5310481469700076661?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5310481469700076661/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/new-layout-your-thoughts.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/5310481469700076661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/5310481469700076661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/new-layout-your-thoughts.html' title='New Layout. Your thoughts?'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/S0MRzwzUcII/AAAAAAAAAKg/pFHl35WcMg4/s72-c/Rave-Clothing-739489.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-7998543683736700370</id><published>2009-12-18T20:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-23T20:49:52.833-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pete and Repeat</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;  I have been thinking about how my mother fought tooth and nail to teach me lessons when I was younger and they just would not stick!  No matter what, I always did the opposite of what she said (sometimes I still do that).  My nickname in my family when I was younger was "tape recorder" (and my little ears could not be hidden from anything).  I was told not to repeat something and I just COULD NOT do it, the words would just blaze like fire out of my mouth the instant I got the opportunity.&lt;br /&gt;Now that I am older the curtains have opened, everything has meaning, and I still know all of the answers to everything and more, but I understand how my nickname "Tape Recorder" was fitting! Now that I work with special needs people I have gotten a taste of my own medicine.  One of my girls (I will call her Ute Fan) was with me in the grocery store doing her shopping a few days ago when a few firemen came shopping around us. I nudged Ute Fan in the shoulder just to pick with her, pointed at one of the firemen and whispered "He's sure cute, huh!?" She agreed, she LOVES the male population (including my husband, she wants him to leave me for her). Later we ended up walking into the cute fireman again, Ute Fan walked into him, pointed at me and said "She thinks you're HOT!".  Oh my, my face turned beet red! I haven't felt that way since elementary school. I smiled shyly grabbed Ute Fan and continued shopping.  Somehow throughout the rest of our time at the grocery store we kept running into the cute fireman, and every time Ute Fan would shout "Hey Cutiieeeeee!".  I was suddenly aware of how my mom may have felt many times during my adolescent years raising the human tape recorder, when every thing flowed like word vomit from my mouth. Every. Single. Syl.la.ble.  Being with these special needs people with mentalities between 8 years and 12 years old I am learning so much. Especially about parenting. I also have a new kind of respect for parents raising moody pubescents!  My mom can now say "I told you so".  But the truth is you just don't know until you have gone through it yourself!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzLwzaX-AcI/AAAAAAAAAJo/rgRWDJmEb8s/s1600-h/tape_recorder_head.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 313px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzLwzaX-AcI/AAAAAAAAAJo/rgRWDJmEb8s/s400/tape_recorder_head.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418658067723977154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This was me in my younger years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. If you don't follow my blog I will tell everyone how you wet the bed till you were seven. Wait, that was me....I'll save that story for another day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Till next time!&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"&gt;The Lady Girl&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-7998543683736700370?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7998543683736700370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/pete-and-repeat.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/7998543683736700370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/7998543683736700370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/pete-and-repeat.html' title='Pete and Repeat'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzLwzaX-AcI/AAAAAAAAAJo/rgRWDJmEb8s/s72-c/tape_recorder_head.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7247120938457937345.post-4516710164397882762</id><published>2009-12-17T11:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T12:26:57.852-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Intro'/><title type='text'>Luck Be A Lady?!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Of course this blog is named after a Frank Sinatra song! What can be more classy than Frank? Lately I have been wanting to dig in to my inner lady, to find out what it takes to be a lady, and why my husband is so thrilled whenever I pass gas! Is this the lady I want to be?  My husband may be thrilled now, but we are only past year one of our marriage.  He may not be so overjoyed and proud of his wife 5 years down the road from now.  So right now I remain a lady on the couch with orange stained fingers (those Cheetos disappear so fast!), emitting all sorts of smells and noises, screaming at the results of So You Think You Can Dance.  I think I can dance but I get exerted just by watching the T.V. so I've got it covered.  So while I still have my husband in the honey moon stage, how do I keep him coming back?  What can I change to get out of my Lady Beer Belly slump?  Maybe that should be my name- Lady Beer Belly. Sounds soooo attractive!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know who will read this, but the more people that read and pretend to be interested in my blog the more I will write.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Name is Val Hunter a.k.a. Lady Girl.  I am still going from girl hood into lady hood, as I am married and married people shouldn't act like adolescents right?  Well we'll see about that.  I'm still trying to decide where I want this blog to go. Should I write about my temper tantrums with Wendy my sewing machine?  Should I talk about the every day trials of a sink that is constantly filled with dishes with no other excuse than that I really love the putrid smell of rotting milk and chicken? (not really).  My personality is like a hectic 10 lane highway, with distractions from every direction, never sticking to one lane. Expect the unexpected. I may throw in a boring craft tutorial here and there, or a heavy southern recipe.  We do crazy things here in the Hunter household.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See you real soon!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-style: italic;"&gt;-Lady Girl&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SyqTND8fsMI/AAAAAAAAAJY/WmTqI5CBk8o/s1600-h/i+am+a+lady.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 399px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SyqTND8fsMI/AAAAAAAAAJY/WmTqI5CBk8o/s400/i+am+a+lady.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416303354473066690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I found this image via Google and those Knobby knees totally look like mine!  Glad to see that I'm not the only one cursed with those.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7247120938457937345-4516710164397882762?l=theladygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4516710164397882762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/luck-be-lady.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/4516710164397882762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7247120938457937345/posts/default/4516710164397882762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theladygirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/luck-be-lady.html' title='Luck Be A Lady?!'/><author><name>The Lady Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06282980638718305664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SzMQ-BpKinI/AAAAAAAAAJw/9gibI9fq-7k/S220/5488_224232755362_828690362_7552998_6189934_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTEoHeoro_0/SyqTND8fsMI/AAAAAAAAAJY/WmTqI5CBk8o/s72-c/i+am+a+lady.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
