<?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-13423849</id><updated>2011-07-28T17:21:01.319-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Ghost Lover Has Ectoplasmic Lips</title><subtitle type='html'>living our happily ever after</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>62</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-974624895956914472</id><published>2010-08-10T22:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-10T22:45:00.654-07:00</updated><title type='text'>From the safety of my bed</title><content type='html'>I'm snuggled in bed in my jammies, freshly showered, wrapped in blankets, head on one pillow, arms hugging another, fan blowing gently, thunderstorms rolling from the cd player, soft shushing of Jack's cpap machine, his warm body inches from me, our legs touching, his rhythmic breathing... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only thing in between me and a good night's sleep is the phone in my hand that gives me access to the Internet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And What Happened Yesterday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-974624895956914472?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/974624895956914472/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=974624895956914472&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/974624895956914472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/974624895956914472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2010/08/from-safety-of-my-bed.html' title='From the safety of my bed'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-7309365165375029412</id><published>2009-05-26T14:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-26T23:44:52.662-07:00</updated><title type='text'>And Still More...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-d4f3502bc9b4bfc0" 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://v17.nonxt8.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dd4f3502bc9b4bfc0%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329977363%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D79505DA95A924A19F1D602F0120C68429B0DB00B.275F59EE0897BD3173642B4A33D7F0AF40480336%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dd4f3502bc9b4bfc0%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D3sVml2JlwTVSidxXMcJ0FNx7VIY&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" 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href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/7309365165375029412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=7309365165375029412&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/7309365165375029412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/7309365165375029412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2009/05/and-still-more.html' title='And Still More...'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-7803104051270096965</id><published>2009-05-26T14:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-26T23:44:11.877-07:00</updated><title type='text'>More From The Wonderfully Talented Hubby</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-c972ed39a2cffea9" 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.nonxt2.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dc972ed39a2cffea9%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329977363%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3DAA6ED198A7E3541D4220234086E0A51DC573BB4.431460BA2C596521DD956CA840872D2E0D0257B0%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dc972ed39a2cffea9%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DwcEA92mC6mqj1gPAq0E5iHnDMzU&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.nonxt2.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dc972ed39a2cffea9%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329977363%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3DAA6ED198A7E3541D4220234086E0A51DC573BB4.431460BA2C596521DD956CA840872D2E0D0257B0%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dc972ed39a2cffea9%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DwcEA92mC6mqj1gPAq0E5iHnDMzU&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-7803104051270096965?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=c972ed39a2cffea9&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/7803104051270096965/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=7803104051270096965&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/7803104051270096965'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/7803104051270096965'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2009/05/more-from-wonderfully-talented-hubby.html' title='More From The Wonderfully Talented Hubby'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-137167042214611051</id><published>2009-05-18T19:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T20:02:34.828-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nascar</title><content type='html'>Another awesome video by (drum roll, please) . . . Mr. Jack Alan Hignite!!!!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For you, Dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-196616be68e43d80" 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://v9.nonxt3.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D196616be68e43d80%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329977363%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D62802FDCB342F38DA3BD993BDCBBF4AE1D179116.33A4C1FA5D255218A16D5BA5FEA151A1A8F01E91%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D196616be68e43d80%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DTQBnzbFQU1VTBEnacH-zUpT9zQA&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://v9.nonxt3.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D196616be68e43d80%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329977363%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D62802FDCB342F38DA3BD993BDCBBF4AE1D179116.33A4C1FA5D255218A16D5BA5FEA151A1A8F01E91%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D196616be68e43d80%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DTQBnzbFQU1VTBEnacH-zUpT9zQA&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-137167042214611051?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=196616be68e43d80&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/137167042214611051/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=137167042214611051&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/137167042214611051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/137167042214611051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2009/05/nascar.html' title='Nascar'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-8430681127254771627</id><published>2009-05-12T14:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-12T14:32:50.766-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To: Mom &amp; Dad, With Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Mom and Dad, this one's for you. I love you. Jack.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-b907e48870752c38" 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://v22.nonxt5.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Db907e48870752c38%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329977363%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D151429A6638CDC9E836567DC32B5A076A279295F.2D27DC8ABDCFE903F880E46BEA51248C2C41690B%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Db907e48870752c38%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DxvGXrzYCieW5CQRzWMY4Tlhl0U4&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://v22.nonxt5.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Db907e48870752c38%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329977363%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D151429A6638CDC9E836567DC32B5A076A279295F.2D27DC8ABDCFE903F880E46BEA51248C2C41690B%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Db907e48870752c38%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DxvGXrzYCieW5CQRzWMY4Tlhl0U4&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-8430681127254771627?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=b907e48870752c38&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/8430681127254771627/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=8430681127254771627&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/8430681127254771627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/8430681127254771627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2009/05/to-mom-dad-with-love.html' title='To: Mom &amp; Dad, With Love'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-3460948075101443279</id><published>2009-05-09T00:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-09T00:50:33.861-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Coming Home, by Jack Hignite</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;What my husband wants to do right now, more than anything in the world...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-6400f13ed5b386fc" 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.nonxt7.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D6400f13ed5b386fc%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329977363%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D4083DECEC6C7BCA864E72556A1C3C55D9B3D23B9.7E83241843A511E3A51C7D4145F5AE779C21EB74%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D6400f13ed5b386fc%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D_cnMETF3zw8mT0pYMoD_8q1_rqw&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.nonxt7.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D6400f13ed5b386fc%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329977363%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D4083DECEC6C7BCA864E72556A1C3C55D9B3D23B9.7E83241843A511E3A51C7D4145F5AE779C21EB74%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D6400f13ed5b386fc%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D_cnMETF3zw8mT0pYMoD_8q1_rqw&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-3460948075101443279?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=6400f13ed5b386fc&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/3460948075101443279/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=3460948075101443279&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/3460948075101443279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/3460948075101443279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2009/05/coming-home-by-jack-hignite.html' title='Coming Home, by Jack Hignite'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-2750313780041934077</id><published>2009-05-06T08:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-09T00:59:19.281-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Advice: Leave the garbage on the curb!!!!!!!!!!!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Something I wrote in August of 2008. Enjoy!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A big theme in my life lately has been living in the here and now.  Not the past - it's over.  Not the future - it's uncertain.  But here.  Now.  Being alive in this moment, right now, is such a gift.  But it's a gift I've often squandered over the years, as I dwelled on occurrences of the past, choices I'd made, or the looming fear of future events.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've lost a fair share of my life by being parked, stopped, anchored...my feet firmly planted (rooted even) in the moment, with my head and heart stuck somewhere in the past.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've often likened living-in-the-here-and-now vs living-in-the-past to garbage.  Once I've collected all the garbage in the house - and bagged it all up - gone to all that effort to lug those bags out to the curb, why oh why would I ever want to go out there and bring it back in the house again?!?!?!  That would be insane, right?  But we do it every day.  We say that we're going to let things go, but then invariably find ourselves recanting past events to our friends, co-workers and loved ones.  In essence, bringing the garbage back into the house, opening it up, and going through the contents, no matter how much it stinks.  What's the point in that?  How does that serve us?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, don't get me wrong.  When events are fresh or new, we usually need to talk about them - vent - get some advice - so that we can have some insight into ourselves and learn.  But once the event is over, and we find ourselves telling the story for the sheer entertainment value, I have to wonder if that does more harm than good.  We're taking precious moments from "now" to talk about "then" when we could be LIVING!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, it was like seeing my name on a billboard when I read Dooce (&lt;a href="http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vd3d3LmRvb2NlLmNvbQ=="&gt;www.dooce.com&lt;/a&gt;) today and saw this:  "No matter what horrible thing you're going through, when it's all over it only takes three seconds to sum it up. Remember that."  That was Leona's advice to Dooce.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, Here's my list of horrible events in life that now take only three seconds to sum up:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* My first pregnancy ended in a miscarriage.  I couldn't imagine ever going through the potential heartbreak of getting pregnant again. I now have four lovely children and four amazing soon-to-be stepchildren.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I was married to an abusive man, and I never thought my kids and I would be safe or free. But we are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I was fired from a job once.  It sucked.  I survived.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Having two failed marriages felt awful, until I (re)met the man of my dreams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* When all the kids were younger and living at home, there were times I thought I would lose my mind.  I'm still sane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And a prediction of a future three-second sum-up:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Jack and I and the kids are sitting around talking about how much we missed each other when he was gone, how proud we are of him and how happy we are to have him home!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think the key is to disconnect the emotion from past events, and give them their proper place in history.  With a bit of distance and perspective, we detach ourselves from our stories, stop living in the past and live in the here and now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What kind of experiences and opportunities can you create if you turn down the volume on the past and turn up the volume on the present?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Much peace...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-2750313780041934077?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/2750313780041934077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=2750313780041934077&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/2750313780041934077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/2750313780041934077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2009/05/my-advice-leave-garbage-on-curb.html' title='My Advice: Leave the garbage on the curb!!!!!!!!!!!!!'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-8740282162539760551</id><published>2009-05-06T08:29:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-06T08:31:01.744-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Do-Overs</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;This is something I wrote in August of 2008. Thought I would share...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had lunch with Paula and Penny today, and Paula mentioned Do-Overs.  Her reference was to the current two politicians running for the office of President of the United States of America.  Can we just have a Do-Over?  I tend to agree...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I started thinking about Do-Overs in a different context.  I always say that I have no regrets in life, and for the most part, that's true.  But the concept of a Do-Over is actually quite appealing to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In school, kids scream for a Do-Over when there's interference, they don't understand the rules, or someone cheated.  Or sometimes, just because they're losing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, in Life, if there were Do-Overs, here's what I would do over:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Interference.&lt;/strong&gt;  Now, that's a good idea.  I would totally have called for a Do-Over when (1) that idiot ran the red light and totalled my car and (2) during my single days, my girlfriend spotted the cute guy before I did.  Do-Over!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Not understanding the rules.&lt;/strong&gt;  Okay.  This happens a lot.  I would totally go back and call a Do-Over on these occasions:  (1) agreeing to bake cookies for school without asking questions first - WHAT? 400 COOKIES BY TOMORROW MORNING?!?!, (2) chaperoning field trips without knowing where the class is going. The animal control facility?  Uh, no.  Wait, I didn't mean to sign that volunteer form. I thought it was a permission slip!, (3) marriage before the age of 40.  Enough said.  Do-Over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Someone cheated.&lt;/strong&gt;  Um, hello husband number one!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  BING BING BING.  We have a winner!  BIG DO-OVER!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I'm losing.&lt;/strong&gt;  Oh, man.  This could be a long list.  I'm not a good loser.  I'd call a Do-Over when:  (1) I see that the ball is not going to drop on my number on the roulette table, (2) speeding up (just a little) to make it through a yellow light and the nice police officer turns his pretty lights on just for me (see "interference" above - i know.  karma, huh?), (3) negotiations with my credit card company when I want my rate lowered and they won't do what I want them to.  It's only 5% - what do they care? and (4) I'm playing video games with Mikey - he's so good at them!  I would love to say, "Do-Over" and then restart the game.  I'd love to win just once!  Do-Over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I still have no regrets. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just a teensy little list of Do-Overs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luv-Luv&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-8740282162539760551?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/8740282162539760551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=8740282162539760551&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/8740282162539760551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/8740282162539760551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2009/05/do-overs.html' title='Do-Overs'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-2664623543217921800</id><published>2009-04-28T10:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-28T10:25:02.283-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Random Thoughts I've Had Lately</title><content type='html'>Late at night, when I'm supposed to be sleeping, but what I'm doing instead is tossing and turning and getting all twisted up in my covers, I've begun to record some of the thoughts that drift around in my mind. Often, at 2am, I'm under the covers, typing my nighttime ponderings into the notepad on my PDA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, here are a few of them. They're completely random...no real rational thought involved:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* fear leads to over-protection. fear also leads to a compulsion to control. i think the concept of control is illusory. and temporary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* i believe in giving myself away. so what if i get hurt? it's so completely worth it! that means i'm alive! i want to live freely, expansively and experientially, and with great love!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* is there any purpose or meaning in a life not shared with others? an experience, unshared...does it have value? what is to be gained by keeping experiences to ourselves? wasn't life intended to be shared? how does anyone derive any satisfaction or joy from a life unshared? if we don't share, then what is the point of existing at all? i shudder to think how unsatisfying and lonely i would be without people with whom i can share all of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They're random and disconnected, but I thought that if I was thinking things like this, maybe some of you are, too. And maybe if you find something we have in common, you might want to talk about them...or share your thoughts...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Much love,&lt;br /&gt;Tina&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-2664623543217921800?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/2664623543217921800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=2664623543217921800&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/2664623543217921800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/2664623543217921800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2009/04/random-thoughts-ive-had-lately.html' title='Random Thoughts I&apos;ve Had Lately'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-8505227535542275034</id><published>2009-04-28T10:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-28T10:23:14.601-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Leaping!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;I tend to be a "leap before you look" kind of person. In life, I jump in with both feet before testing the water. Literally.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;When I was 10, my family went on vacation to Florida, and along the way we stopped at a little motel for the night so my parents could rest. I'm sure the beds were comfy and all, but the only thing I could think of as we pulled in was, "Do they have a pool? Do they have a pool?" YES! They did! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I couldn't move fast enough to get my swimming suit on and get out to that pool. It was a fairly small pool, and if my memory serves me right, there was only one other person there (an older lady?) besides my mommy and me. I remember my mom walking around the edge, checking it out. And me? I jumped right in, of course! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I expected to plunge into the pool, feeling the shock of the cold water as I sank like a stone to the bottom. And then I would push off the bottom and rocket up to the top, breaking the surface in a spray of water, gasping for breath. That was my plan, anyway. WRONG. I jumped in, and bzrt! (by the way, that's the sound of a record player needle being scratched across the tracks of a record) I was stunned to find myself standing in water that only came halfway up my thighs. I remember the feeling in my feet and legs - that jarring, this-is-going-to-hurt-later feeling. But more than the physical, I was disappointed. I can only imagine what I must have looked like to the lady who was sitting there. I kind of remember her saying something like, "Not as deep as you thought it was, huh?" or something like that. Of course, my mommy and I went on to have lots of fun. (My mom knows how to make ANYTHING fun - ask me about getting my tonsils out when I was 5. LOL). Anyway, the shallow water was just perfect for us to splash around in and cool down.  And we went on to have a wonderful vacation at Disney World.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;But, the profound disappointment of that moment and the fun we had afterward, has stayed with me through the years. I suppose it was a defining moment of sorts. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Over the next 30 years of my life, the lesson wasn't lost. And if you know me, you know that what I learned was not "look before you leap."  More, it was to continue to live my life with wild abandon, high hopes, rose-colored glasses and always believing the glass is not only half full, but all the way full. To leap fully and eagerly into whatever good I find in life. And that if my expectations fall short of reality, to assess the situation, pull out the good, appreciate what I have, and be happy.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So, I will continue to love without fear or regret, laugh with ease, smile at everyone I meet, make new friends, and keep both of my feet moving forward in this beautiful world.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I love ya, and thanks for reading me!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Mrs. Tina Lynn Hignite&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-8505227535542275034?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/8505227535542275034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=8505227535542275034&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/8505227535542275034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/8505227535542275034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2009/04/leaping.html' title='Leaping!'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-3111732783095062077</id><published>2008-12-02T18:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-02T18:37:16.112-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Mother’s Christmas Tribute to the Military</title><content type='html'>My mother was the editor for an online forum (www.bellaonline.com) for awhile. One of the many wonderful and interesting accomplishments she has made over the past 60 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She wrote the piece below for Christmas 2007.  I remember her calling both my sister and me on the phone to try it out on us.  Of course, we cried as she read it to us. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who would have known - and now I am crying again - that this would actually become a tribute to her son-in-law Jack and grandson John a short 12 months later?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Christmas Tribute to the Military&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Author - Pam Cartwright&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christmas in the Great Lakes states is probably much like Christmas in other areas of the U.S. We don't have enough time or money to do everything we wish we could. We eat too much, spend too much, sleep too little and exercise only by walking into or out of the mall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our intentions are good. We buy special gifts for everyone we can think of. We make huge efforts to get just the right gifts..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uncle Frank is so hard to buy for. Did I get that scarf for him?&lt;br /&gt;Sue really loves tea. Will she like the tea set I bought her?&lt;br /&gt;I have a doctor's appointment on Monday. Should I get something for the nurse at Dr. Johnson's office?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, sometimes a gift has nothing to do with buying. It's a kind word or a lift to the grocery or a phone call to a far-away friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day as I was walking into our local supercenter I saw a person dressed in military clothing. You know the kind of outfit I'm talking about. We got used to it with Desert Storm – that desert fighting apparel. I was in awe, as I always am, when face-to-face with someone in the military. The person noticed me staring and shouted hello, so I returned the greeting. It got me to thinking about Christmas in the military. Today, I wrote this poem to thank the men and women who keep our country safe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are in my thoughts and prayers today as Christmas Eve draws near&lt;br /&gt;I praise you for your sacrifice to protect what we hold dear&lt;br /&gt;Your thoughts here at Christmastime, I hope are filled with trust&lt;br /&gt;That you will soon be home again where you belong - with us&lt;br /&gt;Each time I see a person clothed in military dress&lt;br /&gt;I silently pray that they return whole and without stress&lt;br /&gt;I give them my biggest smile and hope they understand&lt;br /&gt;That I am thanking them right there in the only way I can&lt;br /&gt;I do not know the harms you face, my information lacks&lt;br /&gt;The knowledge of the place you go when you get summoned back&lt;br /&gt;I share your love of country even if I do not go&lt;br /&gt;You honor me by serving when you may not wish it so&lt;br /&gt;As you read this ode to faith and hope and trust and love, I pray&lt;br /&gt;That it will bring you peace and strength to make it through the day&lt;br /&gt;Remember why we celebrate, remember that we care&lt;br /&gt;Even in the midst of night when no one else is there&lt;br /&gt;As you stand your vigils in the dark and your thoughts wander far&lt;br /&gt;And your greatest wish - to be home - is wished upon a star&lt;br /&gt;Please take my tribute to you and keep it in your heart&lt;br /&gt;I only say what many feel while we are far apart&lt;br /&gt;I hope the loneliness you have is one that you believe&lt;br /&gt;Will make the world a better place each future Christmas Eve&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, she's amazing. I am so blessed to be her daughter. She's on my top friends list if you would like to drop her a line.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you know someone in the service and would like to, please pass my mother's tribute along to them. She would be honored if you share this gift.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-3111732783095062077?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/3111732783095062077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=3111732783095062077&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/3111732783095062077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/3111732783095062077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2008/12/my-mothers-christmas-tribute-to.html' title='My Mother’s Christmas Tribute to the Military'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-2682787051787640271</id><published>2008-11-07T15:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-07T15:03:39.405-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Gettin' Glad</title><content type='html'>My mother tells me that her grandma (who was all of 4'9") used to say, "You can get glad in the same clothes you got mad in," to her and her brothers and sisters when they'd get mad as kids.  You should know that mom's grandma raised her 5 grandchildren after their mother died at 32 of breast cancer and their father died of a heart attack at 38.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My great-grandma was a spit fire of a lady!  I've heard people say before, "There's a whole lotta woman packed in that little frame," and that aptly described my great-grandmother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, when grandma said, "You can get glad in the same clothes you got mad in," she meant to just deal with whatever the situation was, because it wasn't going to change anytime soon, least of all not before you changed outta them clothes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I think about that in relation to this week's presidential election.  Here in America.  In a democratic society . . . a government by the people . . . where majority rules.  Where our voices are heard.  Where one person can make a difference.  Where every vote counts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And during this election process, two candidates for the office of president came forth.  Two honorable men who had strong desires to serve the country they love.  Two men who campaigned tirelessly to present their platforms and, each in his own way, win the hearts and minds of the American people.  Two men who were the focus of almost every conscious American's interest for a good 18 or so hours on November 4, 2008, as the voting began...and then ended.  And then, as the day drew to a close, the votes were tallied, and one of the men won.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite who voted for whom, or which man is the best, or what you wanted or didn't want, the outcome is very simple.  Majority ruled.  One man won.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And a lot of people are mad about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, as my great-grandma once said:  YOU CAN GET GLAD IN THE SAME CLOTHES YOU GOT MAD IN.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because it ain't gonna change anytime soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-2682787051787640271?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/2682787051787640271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=2682787051787640271&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/2682787051787640271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/2682787051787640271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2008/11/gettin-glad.html' title='Gettin&apos; Glad'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-3147174740307904137</id><published>2008-10-27T19:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-27T19:20:34.174-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Letting Him Go...Again</title><content type='html'>I had no idea what to expect when we walked into the airport that morning.  Well, that's not exactly true.  I suspected (ok I knew) that it was going to be one of the most difficult experiences of my life.  But I had been practicing for a few months the fine art of "staying in the moment" whereby you don't think about the past or the future, you just glide along in the here and now and enjoy each experience as it comes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I had been pretty successful in doing that, so I hadn't really given much conscious thought to how the morning would unfold.  I knew a few things for certain.  First, I knew my husband was leaving.  Second, I knew it was going to be difficult.  Past that, I hadn't really allowed myself to build any preconceived expectations of what would happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I won't go into the details of our goodbye.  I am pretty sure that if you've ever had to say goodbye (and most of us have) that you can insert your own experience here and feel the emotions I felt upon saying goodbye to my husband of two weeks.  The husband I had waited over 20 years to have.  My soulmate.  My heart.  I know you get me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The purpose for me writing about this is what happened after I put my husband on that plane.  The airport authority was kind enough to allow me to accompany my husband back to the gate.  After we said our final goodbye, he walked through the doorway and I lost sight of him as he made his way down the walkway and boarded the awaiting aircraft.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made myself stand there and watch him.  I waited a few moments.  I think I was holding my breath.  I didn't want to leave yet...I could still feel him there.  So, I walked over to the window and sat in a chair and watched the plane.  Some tears were sliding down my cheeks, but I wasn't out and out crying.  I was in pretty good control of myself, considering.  I sat there for several minutes and then something told me it was time to leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stood, and began to make my way alone back the way Jack and I had come together less than 20 minutes before.  I had only taken about 10 steps, when an older man in a long coat with a briefcase walked closely by me.  He looked my way and simply said, "It will be okay," and then he was gone.  I don't remember anything about him other than the coat and briefcase and words.  I wouldn't be able to recognize him again, even if we were formally introduced.  I was in a kind of fog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I made my way back through the airport, toward my children who were waiting in the car, I thought about the kindness of a stranger.  The words are still with me.  He was right.  It will be okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I hope that the man in the long coat was catching a plane home to a loving family.  And that when he arrived, someone who loves him was there to greet him with a hug and a smile.  He deserves that and more, for simply and without intruding, reaching out to a crying woman in an airport who had just placed the love of her life on the first step of a long journey far away from her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you, man in the long coat. You're in my prayers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-3147174740307904137?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/3147174740307904137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=3147174740307904137&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/3147174740307904137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/3147174740307904137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2008/10/letting-him-goagain.html' title='Letting Him Go...Again'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-4933494505145298329</id><published>2008-08-22T22:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-22T23:11:07.682-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I wanna be like Christan!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Directions: Place an X by all the things you've done and remove the X from the ones you have not. Answer the 30 questions at the end and tag 3 (or more) of your friends to play too!(This is for your entire life.)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;(x ) Gone on a blind date&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;(x) Skipped school&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;(  ) Watched someone die&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;(x ) Gone to Canada&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;(  ) Gone to Mexico&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;(x) Gone on a plane&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;( ) Jumped out of a plane&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;( ) Been on a Helicopter &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;(xxxxxxxxxxxxx) Gotten lost&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;(x)Gone on the opposite side of the country&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;( ) Gone to Washington, DC&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;(x) Swam in the ocean&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;(x) Cried your self to sleep&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;(x ) Played cops and robbers&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;( ) Recently colored with crayons&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;(x) Sang Karaoke&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;(x)Paid for a meal with coins only&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;(x) Done something you told yourself you wouldn't&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;(x) Made prank phone calls&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;(x) Laughed until some kind of beverage came out of your nose&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;(x) Caught a snowflake on your tongue&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;(x) Danced in the rain&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;(x) Written a letter to Santa Claus&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;(x) Gotten kissed under the mistletoe&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;(x) Watched the sunrise with someone you care about&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;(x) Blown bubbles&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;(x) Gone ice-skating&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;(x) Gone Skiing (water &amp;amp; snow) &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;(x) Gone skinny dipping outdoors&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;(x) Gone to the movies&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;(x) Gone to a drive-in movie&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;1. Any nickname?  Jack calls me baby, the kids call me mommy, Stacey calls me Teena Weena LOL&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;2. Mother's name? Pamela&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;3. Favorite drink? Sweet tea&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;4. Tattoo? yep, 1&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;5. Body piercings? not yet&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;6. How much do you love your job? on a scale of 1-10 (10 being the highest) - 8.5&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;7. Birthplace? Cloverdale, In&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;8. Favorite vacation spot? Anywhere that phones and tv's are hard to come by&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;9. Ever been to Africa ? no, but I'd love to&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;10. Ever eaten cookies for dinner? yes, recently! :)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;11. Ever been on TV? does America's Most Wanted count?  just kidding.  Not that I am aware of.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;12. Ever steal any traffic sign? no&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;13. Ever been in a car accident? Yes, a couple - but like Christan - none were my fault.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;14. Drive a 2-door or 4-door vehicle? haha - 5 door - hatch back&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;15. Favorite salad dressing? honey mustard or chunky bleu cheese&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;16. Favorite pie? peach&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;17. Favorite number? 7 because it's magic&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;18. Favorite movie? The Jerk with Steve Martin (comedy) and City of Angels for romantic&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;19. Favorite holiday?  All of them.  I really love Halloween!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;20. Favorite dessert? tiramisu (if it's made well)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;21. Favorite food? it's too difficult to choose&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;22. Favorite day of the week? Today!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;23. What do you do to relax? what's that? hahaha - i agree with Christan!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;24. Favorite toothpaste? Crest with the little pink sparklies&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;25. Favorite smell? lavender usually - but i love anything that smells clean&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;26. What month were you born in? August - TODAY in Fact! :)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;27. Favorite Candle Scent?  merlot &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;28. How do you see yourself in 10 years?  Married to Jack, loving our children&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;29. What 3 people do you tag to do this meme? Stacey, Rachel, Mom&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;30. Who will be the first to respond? we'll see&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-4933494505145298329?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/4933494505145298329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=4933494505145298329&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/4933494505145298329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/4933494505145298329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-wanna-be-like-christan.html' title='I wanna be like Christan!'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-5706986366315619830</id><published>2008-08-08T14:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-10T11:10:28.123-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Breathless</title><content type='html'>Dear Heavenly Father, please protect Jack and the rest of our soldiers as they actively participate in the fight against terrorism. Please place a protective barrier around all of our soldiers and make them invisible to their enemies. I pray that You stand beside them . . . in front of them . . . whatever it takes to protect their bodies from the bullets of those who would take their lives. Please protect their hearts and minds from the mental stress and trauma of war. Please, Dear Father, allow them to see the light of another day. Our soldiers are precious to us. They are our husbands, friends, brothers, fathers, fiancés, and we need them home with us as soon as Your will allows it. Please make it soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Jesus’ precious name. Amen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-5706986366315619830?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/5706986366315619830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=5706986366315619830&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/5706986366315619830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/5706986366315619830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2008/08/breathless.html' title='Breathless'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-3547345615799217853</id><published>2008-07-31T22:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T10:26:20.746-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Watch Over Him...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJKgud-AG8I/AAAAAAAAABs/c8G7rODojTY/s1600-h/sorrow2_1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229418837509675970" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJKgud-AG8I/AAAAAAAAABs/c8G7rODojTY/s400/sorrow2_1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Artwork by Jenny B Harris.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-3547345615799217853?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/3547345615799217853/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=3547345615799217853&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/3547345615799217853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/3547345615799217853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2008/07/watch-over-him.html' title='Watch Over Him...'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJKgud-AG8I/AAAAAAAAABs/c8G7rODojTY/s72-c/sorrow2_1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-4707456976987015687</id><published>2008-07-31T21:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T10:26:20.918-08:00</updated><title type='text'>In the last month, I have learned that...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJKcFJGqdII/AAAAAAAAABc/64-n3YCv9f4/s1600-h/strength.gif"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;family is made up of all sorts of people - not just those born into it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pain won't kill me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can function pretty well on very little sleep&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;to prioritize my activities according to what's most important to me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have an unlimited supply of tears&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am wayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy stronger than I thought I was&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can go from a deep sleep to fully awake in less than 2 seconds when Jack calls at 4am&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;it costs me approximately $8 in gas to get to work and back, but for 42 cents I can mail a letter halfway around the world&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJKbGzhwYDI/AAAAAAAAABU/iHsm1IPL0Do/s1600-h/dog+nose.bmp"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;the glue on the flap of an envelope tastes really gross &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;there are a bazillion ways to say "I love you"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;prayer works - God listens&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;there are some awesome women on this planet and I am glad to call them my friends (Theresa, Penny, Stacey, Joyce, Arlene, Linda, Beth, Jignasa)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;there are some incredibly strong military wives who were perfect strangers less than a month ago (Christan and Chantel) who are now a source of great strength and inspiration to me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I simply adore Jack's ex's (Barbie &amp;amp; Kelly)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jack's mother is an amazing woman (Dottie), and I cherish every moment we spend together, whether it's talking about our day or saying our evening prayers&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jack's sisters are heroes (Tina &amp;amp; Gina) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;the man who loves me is incredibly brave and unselfish&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am going to love being part of the Hignite Family (again)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the group of children I love the most has doubled (Joel, Sammy, Rachel, Mikey, Alexis, John, Meg, Mariah, Olivia) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;just because you're someone else's child doesn't mean I can't love you like my own (Kevin, Jessica, Stephanie, Jason)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJKcmgy9RaI/AAAAAAAAABk/bKFMGoq-VoQ/s1600-h/womeninart.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;my mother (Pam) and my sister (Rachel) are amazing women, and I can't even begin to think who I would be today without them&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am blessed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229420296488719282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJKiDZFtk7I/AAAAAAAAAB0/WKnAE-h67PU/s400/womeninart.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p&gt;This is by no means a complete list of the things I have learned in the past month. But it's a good start.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What have you learned in the past month? &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-4707456976987015687?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/4707456976987015687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=4707456976987015687&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/4707456976987015687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/4707456976987015687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2008/07/in-last-month-i-have-learned-that.html' title='In the last month, I have learned that...'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJKiDZFtk7I/AAAAAAAAAB0/WKnAE-h67PU/s72-c/womeninart.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-6107738685017121551</id><published>2008-07-29T20:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T10:26:21.228-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thinking about him...</title><content type='html'>There are times during the day (mostly when I'm writing or blogging, or when I'm driving to and from work) when it's absolutely silent and I'm all alone with myself. During those times, I shut the world out and just think about Jack. I let random memories and images from our teenage years and our adult years flood my mind and heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228888811894782594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJC-q6sAuoI/AAAAAAAAAA8/jSg0xjP_VjQ/s320/Jack+Alan+Hignite.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, the thoughts come to me on a breeze . . . like catching the soft scent of a lilac bush as you're walking by. Thoughts of him drift lazily into my head. I'll remember something awesome he said to me ("I love you, Tina") or a request he's made ("I want our first dance after we're married to be to I Can't Help Falling In Love With You.").&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And sometimes, thoughts of him pop! zing! wham! right into my head at odd times. Like a little girl who jumps on your back like a monkey when you least expect it! These thoughts and memories of the fun and laughter and excitement we've shared are the ones that threaten to knock me off my feet and make me forget where I am and what I'm doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like today, while I was in a meeting at work. No disrespect to the presenter (he's an awesome guy), but the topic was b-o-r-i-n-g. And it was almost two hours of boring. So, naturally, the mind (at least MY mind) strayed away from SOP changes and process updates and such to more pleasant things like how much laundry I have to do when I get home (LOTS!) and what I'm going to eat for dinner (Penny's yummy Mexican lasagna). I for sure had the TEGO thing going on (TEGO=The Eyes Glaze Over), and suddenly, there it was in front of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was gone from that room and those people, and for about 60 seconds, I was filled with a rush of memories...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Arriving at the airport. The look on his face when we made eye contact for the first time in over 20 years. The hotel room in Killeen. Jack in his Army sweats, and me in mine. His eyes. The ice-cold air conditioning. Braunschweiger &amp;amp; Ritz crackers. Holding hands. Charlie Gordon's War. Jack's laugh. The Alamo. Lots! Of! Music! Man on the Moon. PT. Trips to the base. Kisses. Little Italy. Meeting John. Our song. Java Monsters. Hearing his key in the door. Tanks. Breakfast at that little table in our room. Snuggling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart and mind were filled with the most awesome memories of my trip to visit him in Texas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't check out for too long. At least I wasn't nodding off to sleep like some people were. hahaha! I saw a few heads nodding. Like I said it was a boring topic and it was a bit warm in the room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I made it through the meeting. I did manage to actually absorb quite a bit of the info and what I didn't quite catch, I will refer to the handouts. &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJC-UZwwghI/AAAAAAAAAA0/H1-4e9J_juw/s1600-h/jackmybab.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228888425099198994" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJC-UZwwghI/AAAAAAAAAA0/H1-4e9J_juw/s400/jackmybab.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJC9zQPCVKI/AAAAAAAAAAc/-eR_MZQTplM/s1600-h/jackmybab.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJC-LgP9SvI/AAAAAAAAAAs/qWrI10UY0nE/s1600-h/jackmybab.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, as if on cue, just as the meeting was concluding, my cell phone vibrated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was my soldier...my hero...my warrior...my love.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-6107738685017121551?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/6107738685017121551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=6107738685017121551&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/6107738685017121551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/6107738685017121551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2008/07/thinking-about-him.html' title='Thinking about him...'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJC-q6sAuoI/AAAAAAAAAA8/jSg0xjP_VjQ/s72-c/Jack+Alan+Hignite.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-8115671391235773699</id><published>2008-07-27T22:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-27T22:55:13.602-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Night Walker, a.k.a. Who kidnapped the #@%*&amp; sandman!</title><content type='html'>Why do I have to be close to brain death in order to get any sleep these days?!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just lay in bed tossing and turning, until the covers are a mess and I'm all sweaty and frustrated.  I just can't sleep, and &lt;strong&gt;nothing's working&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to drink a glass of wine, because then I'll get all sentimental and cry (more than usual) and I might drunk-dial someone.  (Yes, I'm a lightweight drinker.)  And I'm afraid to start taking any sleeping meds because I don't want to get addicted.  (Or do I...?)  Just kidding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been writing a TON since Jack was deployed - both online and in my journals (I have a record FOUR journals going right now).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright.  I've got to get a handle on this.  It's 1:48am on Monday and I need to be at work early - like in 5 hours!  YIKES!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, don't worry, I'm not insane yet.  I'll let you know if it gets REALLY bad.  Maybe. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wish me luck...  I'm going to go try again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and if you see the sandman, would you send his punk ass my way, please?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-8115671391235773699?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/8115671391235773699/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=8115671391235773699&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/8115671391235773699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/8115671391235773699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2008/07/night-walker-aka-who-kidnapped-sandman.html' title='Night Walker, a.k.a. Who kidnapped the #@%*&amp; sandman!'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-3582285294970379279</id><published>2008-07-26T20:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-26T20:47:06.537-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Borrowing from a comment on Christan's blog</title><content type='html'>&lt;h3&gt;Philippians 4:6-7&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;span id="en-NIV-29433" class="sup"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.  &lt;span id="en-NIV-29434" class="sup"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enough said.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-3582285294970379279?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/3582285294970379279/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=3582285294970379279&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/3582285294970379279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/3582285294970379279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2008/07/borrowing-from-comment-on-christans.html' title='Borrowing from a comment on Christan&apos;s blog'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-8587536870293685961</id><published>2008-07-19T21:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-19T21:39:22.121-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Blessed to have choices</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;So, this post begins with a power struggle.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Lately, my heart and my brain both want to be in charge.  Neither is willing to take a backseat to the other.  So, when I start feeling too much (i.e., crying my eyes out) then my brain kicks into high gear, pulling me from my heart and throwing me head-first into thinking mode.  Which leads me to a natural defense mode called "how do I fix this?"  I quickly come to the conclusion that I can't "fix" anything, because truly, nothing is broken.  And then I feel helpless, and I find myself crying again.  It's exhausting.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I was thinking today about the way I feel now that Jack has deployed.  I'm always about 3 inches from crying, and while it's true that I am by nature an emotional creature, it's never been anything like this.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So, Choice popped into my head today, and Blessing popped into my heart.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I know that nothing in life happens by accident.  We make choices in our lives, mostly based on who we believe we are and what we think we deserve.  Those choices lead us down a path.  A path which, at any moment, we can choose to abandon or pursue.  We have a choice.  Plain and simple.  There are no accidents.  We cause things to happen in our lives based on our choices.  We have created the life we have right now, based on our choices.  I have created the life I have right now.  Jack created the life he has right now.  We had free will.  We made deliberate choices.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So, I started to think about blessings.  When I normally think of blessings, I think mainly of prayer and Thanksgiving.  But the blessings in my heart today are slightly different.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;It's like being blessed with dirty dishes.  It means I have food to eat, right?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;It's like being blessed with high gas prices.  It means I have a car to drive, a place to go, and a vehicle to get there, right?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;It's like being blessed with presidential debates that interrupt my regularly scheduled progamming.  It means I live in a democratic society, right?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Or being blessed with tears because I miss Jack.  It means I love and am loved in return.  Right!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Or being blessed with fears because I worry for Jack and his army brothers' safety.  It means that our country's freedoms are being protected by extremely brave men.  Right!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Thank God that we have the blessings of experiencing the natural outcomes of our choices.  It means we're free.  It means we're in charge.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Life is deliberate, purposeful and solid.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I feel blessed.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-8587536870293685961?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/8587536870293685961/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=8587536870293685961&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/8587536870293685961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/8587536870293685961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2008/07/blessed-to-have-choices.html' title='Blessed to have choices'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-7755381736535778035</id><published>2008-06-11T15:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-11T16:13:13.056-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sidewalks to Nowhere</title><content type='html'>While the laundry was drying, I decided to take a walk through the neighborhood near our hotel.  I had actually been planning on taking a nice, long walk for a couple of days, but the farthest I'd managed to get was the edge of the parking lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The neighborhood turned out to be really quiet.  It's an older neighborhood, filled with modest one-story homes.  I saw people here and there, outside enjoying the day.  I said hello to an older gentleman as he was walking back with his mail and made a comment about the weather to a lady who was setting up her sprinkler.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I walked, I made a conscious effort to stay in the moment.  I wanted to forever imprint in my memory the sounds, smells and feelings I was experiencing.  I found myself looking up quite often, noticing the blueness of the sky, how fluffy the clouds were and how fast the Texas wind was whipping them across the sky.  I enjoyed the feeling of the wind moving my curls around and made no effort to brush my hair from my face.  The warmth of the sun, the humidity and the wind combined to make it feel like I was walking through bathwater.  In the distance, I could hear the hypnotic sound of cars as they whooshed along the freeway.  I heard birds calling out in a bird language I don't recall ever hearing.  And there were trees of a variety I've never seen.  It all felt very surreal, in a pleasantly numb and unfamiliar way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I noticed that the sidewalk I was on ended abruptly about 20 feet ahead.  I looked around, and there was another one across the street that also ended for no apparent reason.  I thought of them as Sidewalks to Nowhere.  It's like, originally there was a purpose - someone had a plan to build a sidewalk, but then they got bored or tired or whatever and never bothered to finish.  Or they decided that wherever the sidewalk was supposed to actually lead to, it really wasn't worth the effort.  Or maybe they never intended to build a sidewalk that actually went anywhere.  Maybe the plan all along was for it to end into nothingness.  It was all very Stephen King-ish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know why these Sidewalks to Nowhere are bothering me so much.  I wonder what they represent in my life.  Maybe paths (sidewalks) I started building at different points in my life that I decided weren't worth the effort.  Or maybe there was a trail (sidewalk) I was blazing toward some pipedream that I lost interest in.  Or maybe there were times I took a street (sidewalk) just to see what was down there and then decided to turn around without giving it a chance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hear it.  I hear the sound of Deeper Meaning.  It's getting pretty close, but I'm on vacation, so I'm going to go watch tv or play a game or call someone.  And (maybe) I'll think about Sidewalks to Nowhere later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For now, I'm going to make a conscious effort to stop thinking about them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-7755381736535778035?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/7755381736535778035/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=7755381736535778035&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/7755381736535778035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/7755381736535778035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2008/06/sidewalks-to-nowhere.html' title='Sidewalks to Nowhere'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-5262891229718576569</id><published>2008-06-10T12:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-10T12:50:47.422-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Quotes</title><content type='html'>"Sure I am that this day we are masters of our fate, that the task which has been set before us is not above our strength; that its pangs and toils are not above my endurance.  As long as we have faith in our own cause and an unconquerable will to win, victory will not be denied us."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Winston Churchill&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We cannot change the cards we are dealt, just how we play the hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Randy &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Pausch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can't scrub "ugly" away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Put your energy into the things you can change and let go of everything else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only reason we create distance between ourselves is because we know there isn't any.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't panic.  Keep a level head.  Think clearly.  Press on.  Be determined.  Accept what you cannot change.  When life kicks you, make sure it kicks you forward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Kay Yow (NC State head coach)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do you know the people you are fighting?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't want to know them.  I may have to kill them."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Intermittent panicky skepticism was to be expected whenever you stepped off the cliff, whenever you went into some realm of experience that wasn't modeled and accepted and approved and stuck into a nice frame by society at large.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life should be a little nuts.  Otherwise, it's just a bunch of Thursdays strung together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you feel like giving up, remember why you held on so long in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you want it, make it happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Mike Jones&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Winners lose more than Losers.  They win and lose more than Losers, because they stay in the game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Terry Paulson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*************************************************************************************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm really good at jotting down little quotes I hear that make sense to me or beg to be thought of more deeply.  However, I'm not always good at writing down who said what.  So, I didn't say any of these things where there's no author listed, I just heard them.  But from whom, I have no idea.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-5262891229718576569?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/5262891229718576569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=5262891229718576569&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/5262891229718576569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/5262891229718576569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2008/06/quotes.html' title='Quotes'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-2113391484712014167</id><published>2008-06-10T12:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-10T12:25:20.348-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Hokey Pokey</title><content type='html'>I think it's about:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* doing the things you didn't think you could...&lt;br /&gt;* loving people you've never met...&lt;br /&gt;* loving people you've just met...&lt;br /&gt;* loving people you've known a lifetime...&lt;br /&gt;* loving the seemingly unlovable...&lt;br /&gt;* and knowing when to walk away...&lt;br /&gt;* daring to dream wild dreams...&lt;br /&gt;* believing...in everything...but especially in yourself...&lt;br /&gt;* not being afraid...&lt;br /&gt;* creating the reality you want...&lt;br /&gt;* not being afraid to lose...&lt;br /&gt;* taking chances of the heart...&lt;br /&gt;* every once in a while leaping before you look...just because it's exciting...&lt;br /&gt;* stepping off the line of the predictable now...&lt;br /&gt;* eating breakfast for dinner...&lt;br /&gt;* eating dessert first...&lt;br /&gt;* falling hopelessly, totally, head-over-heels in love...&lt;br /&gt;* not second-guessing your decisions...&lt;br /&gt;* trusting your heart...&lt;br /&gt;* choosing a path in life that serves you...&lt;br /&gt;* knowing what serves you...&lt;br /&gt;* allowing and actually enjoying it when people do things for you...&lt;br /&gt;* knowing that time will pass...&lt;br /&gt;* trust...&lt;br /&gt;* love...&lt;br /&gt;* always love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think I'll ever really figure out what it's all about.  Life, that is.  At least I hope I don't.  Because not knowing makes it magical, like anything can happen.  Like, no matter how I thought my life was going to turn out, there is no script.  This is as solid and real as I want it to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And lately?  Well, lately I've wanted Solid and Real.  I mean, I want to create them.  With someone very special.  And I found him.  Thank God, I found him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And we get to decide together what's solid and real.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Always love.  My heart feels good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-2113391484712014167?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/2113391484712014167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=2113391484712014167&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/2113391484712014167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/2113391484712014167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2008/06/hokey-pokey.html' title='The Hokey Pokey'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-6837956728081832812</id><published>2008-05-23T14:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-23T14:25:02.064-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sayings &amp; Quotes that have made it to my whiteboard</title><content type='html'>Results may vary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do the thing you didn't think you could.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Begin today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quiet the inner critic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fun is a renewable resource!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am kind of a paranoiac in reverse.  I suspect people of plotting to make me happy. (JD Salinger)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-6837956728081832812?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/6837956728081832812/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=6837956728081832812&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/6837956728081832812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/6837956728081832812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2008/05/sayings-quotes-that-have-made-it-to-my.html' title='Sayings &amp; Quotes that have made it to my whiteboard'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-3050776628968769703</id><published>2008-01-09T09:19:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-09T09:19:54.100-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Beyond This Point...</title><content type='html'>When hunting monsters, care must be taken to not become one yourself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-3050776628968769703?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/3050776628968769703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=3050776628968769703&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/3050776628968769703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/3050776628968769703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2008/01/beyond-this-point.html' title='Beyond This Point...'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-469879351634125637</id><published>2007-11-23T08:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-23T09:05:44.914-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Airport Kisses</title><content type='html'>At the airport on Thanksgiving morning, I sat with my 12-year-0&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ld&lt;/span&gt; son, waiting for the attendant to announce it was time for the unaccompanied minors to begin boarding the aircraft.  My son was flying from Indianapolis to Los Angeles to visit his father for the long holiday weekend.  He sat next to me, oblivious to the world as he played on the portable game system he'd convinced me he needed for the trip a few days before.  I leaned over and snuggled close to him, watching as he expertly maneuvered his character through a maze filled with monsters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I leaned a little closer and kissed him on the cheek.  A faint smile, despite the monster battles.  A few seconds later, I gave him another quick peck, thinking how much I was going to miss this little guy over the next four days.  He's always amazingly tolerant of my kisses and hugs, perhaps realizing he's the youngest...my baby.  And that he is the last of my children small and young enough to cuddle and kiss and spoil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I considered for a moment that I might be embarrassing him in this busy airport terminal.  So, I decided to test him a bit.  I said, "What if I count to three and then kiss your cheek on three?"  I fully expected a long, drawn-out, "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Mooooooooooooom&lt;/span&gt;!"  But, without looking up, he said, "Okay."  So, I counted to three, "One, two, three."  KISS!  Then, again, "One, two, three"  KISS!  As I started again to say, "One," he looked up from his game, smiled widely, and said, "Three!  Three!  Three!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so blessed to be loved by this child.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-469879351634125637?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/469879351634125637/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=469879351634125637&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/469879351634125637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/469879351634125637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2007/11/airport-kisses.html' title='Airport Kisses'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-1995420989650414509</id><published>2007-11-19T08:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-19T08:35:04.279-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sayings On Post-Its From My Office</title><content type='html'>&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Who knew you'd get called on some random Thursday?  Stacey&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;What's the worst that could happen?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Let it go!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Bloom where you're planted.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Nadie&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;entre&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;aquì&lt;/span&gt; sin &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Amor&lt;/span&gt;.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Nadie&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;salga&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;de&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;aquì&lt;/span&gt; sin &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Paz&lt;/span&gt;.  (None enter without Love.  None leave without Peace).  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Katia&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Caban&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Matos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Anything can pass with patience.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Good enough rarely is.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Take the first step.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ever notice how "what the hell" is always the right decision?  Stacey&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;How can I make this better?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Every upset is a setup.  It's your higher self setting it up for you to learn.   Stacey&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Dream of things that never were.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;If change is good, then you're gonna &lt;em&gt;love&lt;/em&gt; global warming!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Imagination is everything.  It is the preview of life's coming attractions.  Einstein&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Fake it until you make it.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Conviction of the heart&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;L'amour&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;donne&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;des&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;ailes&lt;/span&gt;. (Love gives wings.)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When we know better, we do better.  Maya Angelou&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;One of the most important things in life is helping others to win.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;We hate some person because we do not know them, and we will never know them because we hate them.  Charles Caleb &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Colton&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Everyone is running around on a small high of caffeine and panic.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I know the heart of life is good.  John Mayer&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Because I'm Awesome.  Dolly Rots&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Darwin was a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;badass&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Common sense isn't very common.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;There is only one &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;time&lt;/span&gt; when it is essential to awaken.  That time is now.  Buddha&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Be not afraid.  Joshua 1:9&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Phenomenal woman, that's me.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Life may not be the party we'd hoped for, but while we're here, we should dance.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Just looking at it pisses me off.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Thank you for being the gift that you are to this world.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The truth will set you free, but at first, it will piss you off.  Gloria Steinem&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;We may not have it all together, but together we have it all.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Nobody was arrested very much.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The experience of survival is the key to the gravity of love.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The point is to laugh at what you say.  Get over yourself.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ya &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;habibi&lt;/span&gt; (oh darling)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Once in a while, in the middle of an ordinary life, love gives us a fairy tale.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am not your expectations.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Just thought I'd share.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-1995420989650414509?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/1995420989650414509/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=1995420989650414509&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/1995420989650414509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/1995420989650414509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2007/11/sayings-on-post-its-from-my-office.html' title='Sayings On Post-Its From My Office'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-5396548844186402543</id><published>2007-11-19T08:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-19T08:24:43.616-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Philosophy</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;When you're dead and buried and in the ground, what the hell did it all matter anyway as long as you didn't hurt anyone and you had some fun?!?!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i can't say it's always been a &lt;em&gt;fun&lt;/em&gt; life,&lt;br /&gt;but it has most assuredly been &lt;em&gt;interesting&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;never&lt;/em&gt; dull&lt;br /&gt;and i have done LOTS of what i wanted, and screw what was "right" by other people's standards&lt;br /&gt;it didn't always take me where i &lt;em&gt;wanted &lt;/em&gt;to go, but i always got &lt;em&gt;somewhere&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and nothing is forever, so if i didn't like where i landed, i found a way to get somewhere else&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-5396548844186402543?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/5396548844186402543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=5396548844186402543&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/5396548844186402543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/5396548844186402543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2007/11/philosophy.html' title='Philosophy'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-1369220949248731214</id><published>2007-10-18T05:58:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-18T05:58:55.514-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dorky High Nerd</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.nerdtests.com/nt2ref.html"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.nerdtests.com/images/badge/nt2/2c98d1c129daad2d.png" alt="NerdTests.com says I'm a Dorky High Nerd.  What are you?  Click here!" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-1369220949248731214?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/1369220949248731214/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=1369220949248731214&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/1369220949248731214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/1369220949248731214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2007/10/dorky-high-nerd.html' title='Dorky High Nerd'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-7631833329855916054</id><published>2007-10-04T23:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-04T23:22:03.778-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I went to a funeral today and during the sermon, I heard the following remarks:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;"...and we shall all be reunited someday at the homeboy reunion..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;and&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;"We must bless the microwave."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;This was actually one of the most positive funerals I've ever attended.  The pastor did an excellent job of conveying a message of love and hope to the family.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;And the smells of greens, ham and cornbread wafting from some unseen kitchen elsewhere in the church?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Heavenly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-7631833329855916054?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/7631833329855916054/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=7631833329855916054&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/7631833329855916054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/7631833329855916054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2007/10/i-went-to-funeral-today-and-during.html' title=''/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-4493090385652530238</id><published>2007-07-29T12:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-29T13:05:39.469-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Scattergories</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Rules: Use the 1st letter of your name to answer each of the following...They MUST be real places, names, things...NOTHING made up! If you can't think of anything, skip it. Try to use different answers if the person before you had the same 1st initial. You CAN'T use your name for the boy/girl name question. Once you're done, forward on to friends and back to the person who sent it to you. Now go! Or, you know, post.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;1. Your Name: Tina&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;2. Famous singer/band: Tommy Tutone (2 pts!)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;3. 4 letter word: Trip&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;4. Street name: Tantara Bend&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;5. Gifts/presents: Toe Socks&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;6. Vehicle: Taurus SHO&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;7. Items on a menu: Tortilla Chips&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;8. Boy Name: Ty&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;9. Girl Name: Tallulah&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;10. Movie Title: Twister&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;11. Drink: Tequila Twilight (2 pts!)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;12. Occupation: Teacher&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;13. Flower: Touch-me-not&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;14. Celebrity: Tyrese&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;15. Magazine: Taste&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;16. US City: Topeka&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;17. Reason for Being Late for Work: Tired&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;18. Something U Throw Away: Tubes (empty ones)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;19. Things You Shout: Too Much Information!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;20. Cartoon Character: Thomas the Train (3 pts!)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-4493090385652530238?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/4493090385652530238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=4493090385652530238&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/4493090385652530238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/4493090385652530238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2007/07/scattergories.html' title='Scattergories'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-4593443875173012941</id><published>2007-07-15T12:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-15T12:33:30.442-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tina Says...</title><content type='html'>I want a safe neighborhood in which to raise my son.  The Universe throws it in my lap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to kick ass at work and be rewarded for it.  The Universe throws it in my lap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want enough money to be comfortable and take vacations from time to time.  The Universe throws it in my lap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want a man who can laugh with me, likes my children, and intrigues me.  The Universe throws him in my lap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With such an awesome Fairy God Mother (a/k/a The Universe), who needs to win the lottery?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, it's good to be me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-4593443875173012941?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/4593443875173012941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=4593443875173012941&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/4593443875173012941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/4593443875173012941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2007/07/tina-says.html' title='Tina Says...'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-3860324635915803704</id><published>2007-07-03T19:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-04T23:22:55.307-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Some stuff about me</title><content type='html'>[1] What was the highlight of your week?&lt;br /&gt;Spending time with my kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[2] Whose car were you in last?&lt;br /&gt;Theresa's (coming home from the YMCA)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[3] When is the next time you will kiss someone?&lt;br /&gt;My kids whenever the feeling strikes, which is quite often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[4]What color shirt are you wearing?&lt;br /&gt;Pink &amp;amp; White&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[5] How long is your hair?&lt;br /&gt;Long and pretty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[6] When was the last time you read the bible?&lt;br /&gt;Hmmmmmmmmm...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[7] Last movie you watched?&lt;br /&gt;Bruce Almighty&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[8] Last thing you ate?&lt;br /&gt;Blueberry bagel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[9] Last thing you drank?&lt;br /&gt;Water&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[10] Where did you sleep last night?&lt;br /&gt;My soft, fluffy, comfy bed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[11] Are you happy right now?&lt;br /&gt;I have never been happier!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[12] What did you say last?&lt;br /&gt;"Yes," when my daughter asked me if I would come watch a music video with her in 10 minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[13] Where is your phone?&lt;br /&gt;Lying on the desk in front of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[14] What color are your eyes?&lt;br /&gt;Green&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[15] Who did you visit last?&lt;br /&gt;My kids and my cousin Carrie Ann and her new baby Carson.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[16] When was the last time you had your heart broken?&lt;br /&gt;My heart is always open and therefore, it breaks often, because there are so many heartwrenching things in the world. But there are plenty of amazing things in the world, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[17] Who/what do you hate currently?&lt;br /&gt;I have never hated anyone or anything, except maybe spinach when I was 3.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18] What are you listening to?&lt;br /&gt;Fireworks, cars passing by, the radio, my kids talking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[19] If you could have one thing right now what would it be?&lt;br /&gt;Whirled peas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[20] What is your favorite scent?&lt;br /&gt;Lavender.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[21] Who makes you happiest right now?&lt;br /&gt;Me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[22] What were you doing at midnight last night?&lt;br /&gt;Reviewing a test script for a co-worker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[23] Are you left-handed?&lt;br /&gt;Nope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[24] Spell your name without vowels:&lt;br /&gt;tn&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[25] What's for dinner tonight?&lt;br /&gt;Popcorn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[26] What is the last alcoholic beverage you had?&lt;br /&gt;A mojito, made by my very own son, Joel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[27] When Is Your Birthday?&lt;br /&gt;August 23.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[28] Last time you went swimming in a pool?&lt;br /&gt;Today!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[29] Where was the last place you went shopping?&lt;br /&gt;The supply cabinet at work. Just kidding, it was Wal-Mart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[30] How do you feel about your hair right now?&lt;br /&gt;It's soft and curly and smells really great. I love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[31] Do you have any expensive jewelry?&lt;br /&gt;Yes, thanks to my momma!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[32] AIM or MSN?&lt;br /&gt;Neither.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[33] Where does most of your family live?&lt;br /&gt;Indiana.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[34] Are you an only child or do you have siblings?&lt;br /&gt;Brother &amp;amp; Sister.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[35] Would you consider yourself to be spoiled?&lt;br /&gt;Do you know me? OF COURSE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[36] What was the first thing you thought when waking up?&lt;br /&gt;Mmmmm....... That was nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[37] Do you drink beer?&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[38] Myspace or Facebook?&lt;br /&gt;MySpace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[39] Do you have T-Mobile?&lt;br /&gt;No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[40] What is/was your favorite subject in school?&lt;br /&gt;English.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[41] What are you doing?&lt;br /&gt;Singing along with the radio and typing this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[42] Do you have any talents?&lt;br /&gt;Hell yes! Too many to list here. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[43] Have you ever been IN a wedding?&lt;br /&gt;Yep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[44] Do you have any children?&lt;br /&gt;Yes . . . more than I can count. Four I gave life to with my very own body, and countless others I couldn't love more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[45] Did you take a nap today?&lt;br /&gt;No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[46] Ever met anyone famous before?&lt;br /&gt;Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[47] Do you want to be famous one day?&lt;br /&gt;Not on purpose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[48] Favorite Actor(s)?&lt;br /&gt;I suppose Steve Martin. When I need it, he really makes me laugh. YOU MEAN I'M GOING TO STAY THIS COLOR?!?!?!??!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[49] Could you handle being in the military?&lt;br /&gt;I can handle anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[50] Do you believe in Karma?&lt;br /&gt;Absolutely. Sometimes in the middle of an ordinary life, love dances in and spins a fairy tale.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[51] Last time you went to the gym or worked out?&lt;br /&gt;About an hour ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[52] How many pairs of shoes do you own?&lt;br /&gt;About 10.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[53] Last place you drove your car to?&lt;br /&gt;I have a 21-year-old. I don't even think I've held the KEYS in my hands for over a year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[54] Ever been to Las Vegas?&lt;br /&gt;No. But if I do, I will take Virginia and Mary with me. See #56.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[55] Have you ever lived in a two story?&lt;br /&gt;Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[56] Have you ever been gambling?&lt;br /&gt;Yes, and it was with two very amazing ladies...Virginia and Mary. They are both in their 70s and had never been gambling before that night. I'll blog about it sometime - it was a great night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[57] When is the last time you updated your blog?&lt;br /&gt;A couple of days ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[58] Have you been to New York City?&lt;br /&gt;Nope, but I totally will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[59] Ever been to Disneyland/world?&lt;br /&gt;Disneyworld when I was 10 with my momma and my step-dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[60] Do you have a favorite cartoon character?&lt;br /&gt;I'm really fond of Miss Piggy - is she a cartoon character?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[61] Last thing you cooked?&lt;br /&gt;Ribs, mac'n'cheese, baked beans, corn on the cob and deviled eggs. Yeah, I know - I kick ass in the kitchen!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[62] How’s the weather?&lt;br /&gt;Freaking amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[63] Do you e-mail?&lt;br /&gt;Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[64] Last time you were sick?&lt;br /&gt;I don't remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[65] Do you think anyone will repost this?&lt;br /&gt;Prolly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-3860324635915803704?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/3860324635915803704/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=3860324635915803704&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/3860324635915803704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/3860324635915803704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2007/07/some-stuff-about-me.html' title='Some stuff about me'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-3879275843492152271</id><published>2007-07-01T10:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-01T10:21:13.681-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I am a good woman.</title><content type='html'>Sometimes more, but never less.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-3879275843492152271?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/3879275843492152271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=3879275843492152271&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/3879275843492152271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/3879275843492152271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2007/07/i-am-good-woman_01.html' title='I am a good woman.'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-674086165584717483</id><published>2007-06-15T18:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-01T09:57:24.903-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Siegfried did what to Freud's mother's white lion?</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Conversation over dinner tonight with my 21-year-old son Joel&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: I think that was a Freudian slip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;joel: Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: Do you know what a Freudian slip is?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;joel: Uh...I think so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: No, you don't. Do you know who it's named after?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;joel: Yeah, that Freudian dude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: Yeah...?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;joel: ... [blank look from across the dinner table]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: Ever heard of Sigmund Freud?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;joel: [after a slight pause] Didn't he have something to do with white tigers?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: What are you talking about?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;joel: White tigers. He used white tigers. [now uncertain] Or something...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: ARE YOU REFERRING TO SIGFRIED &amp; ROY??????? The performers?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh.my.damn. I haven't laughed that hard in a very long time. What makes it even funnier is that Joel started a web design firm last year. The name of it? PixelEnvy. I asked him a little while ago if he knew what the name of his business was a spin-off of. He did - and correctly answered "penis envy." But he had no idea that was another Freudian concept.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Must.re-educate.young.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-674086165584717483?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/674086165584717483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=674086165584717483&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/674086165584717483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/674086165584717483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2007/06/siegfried-did-what-to-freuds-mothers.html' title='Siegfried did what to Freud&apos;s mother&apos;s white lion?'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-7722850634354454859</id><published>2007-06-13T20:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-13T21:15:07.031-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cleverness Gone</title><content type='html'>In its place there is tired.  I'm going to bed...just in case you were wondering where I am.  In about 4 1/2 minutes you will find me there.  Tucked deep under the covers, pillow over my head, ceiling fan and floor fan on despite the a/c that's running.  Meat locker cold, right?  Yeahhhhhhhhh.  Crisp, clean high thread count cotton sheets.  Nice, fluffy pillows.  Complete dark.  Only the sound of the fans lulling me to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, I've convinced myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'night&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-7722850634354454859?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/7722850634354454859/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=7722850634354454859&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/7722850634354454859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/7722850634354454859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2007/06/cleverness-gone.html' title='Cleverness Gone'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-116131157363614668</id><published>2006-10-19T19:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-19T19:32:53.656-07:00</updated><title type='text'>On Being Me</title><content type='html'>It's odd.  Just when I think I have it all figured out, some new reality or truth rears its little head and I'm 16 and DUMB again.  Not that being 16 and female necessarily means that one is dumb...but me?  At 16?  Dumb.  Maybe naive is a better way to describe it.  But whatever.  You know what I mean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't really even begin to think about putting what's going on down on paper.  So for now, I'll just be brave and say that there's &lt;em&gt;something&lt;/em&gt; going on.  Inside me.  An awakening maybe.  A realization, for sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More later.  Kids are looming near.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-116131157363614668?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/116131157363614668/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=116131157363614668&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/116131157363614668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/116131157363614668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2006/10/on-being-me.html' title='On Being Me'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-115994355688857253</id><published>2006-10-03T23:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-03T23:32:36.896-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Me II</title><content type='html'>I am a dynamic, progressive, confident woman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I am.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-115994355688857253?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/115994355688857253/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=115994355688857253&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/115994355688857253'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/115994355688857253'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2006/10/me-ii.html' title='Me II'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-115811385387576810</id><published>2006-09-12T18:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-12T19:17:33.933-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Day I Never Dreamed Would Happen...</title><content type='html'>This will be brief.  I got a &lt;strong&gt;verbal warning&lt;/strong&gt; at work today.  I was advised that this is the &lt;em&gt;first step&lt;/em&gt; in the disciplinary process and that &lt;em&gt;further action&lt;/em&gt; can&lt;strong&gt; and will&lt;/strong&gt; be taken if my current behaviors continue.  &lt;em&gt;Further action&lt;/em&gt;, I was told, up to &lt;strong&gt;and including&lt;/strong&gt; termination.  This information was delivered to me with a smile.  One week before I am scheduled to have surgery and be out for 6 weeks.  Right after I was told that my job is being given to someone else.  Right after I was told that it's uncertain at this time what I will be doing upon my return from medical leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is after I have reported to HR, the director of the project, my mentor and MY MOTHER that I should not be working with this boss.  I have worked for this company for over six years with GLOWING reviews.  EXCELLENT in some cases.  And, I might add, a damn fine resume that is chock full of solid, meaningful PROOF of my abilities.  I am not the failing type.  Ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me add that there are SEVERAL of us who are FAILING under said boss.  Said boss has been in place for nine months.  I know for a fact that at least two of us have not failed in the past.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What type of a leader is said boss that failure is the rule rather than the exception?  I am suggesting that said boss knows and lives failure, so that is what said boss sees in everyone else.  Kind of like when you buy a new car, say a PT Cruiser, and you begin to notice PT Cruisers EVERYWHERE.  It's because you have PT Cruiser on the brain.  Get me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a very loving, caring and forgiving woman.  I create opportunities for love everywhere I go.  I love and care about said boss and see her gifts.  But her failures speak so loudly, that it's hard to see past them.  Or not.  Okay.  I choose to see past them.  Now I get to forgive said boss.  I get to.  I get to because I am still employed, making money, living indoors, paying my bills, being loved by my children, enjoying my friends...  I get to because I choose to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After all, what's the worst that could happen?  It's not like she can steal my birthday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-115811385387576810?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/115811385387576810/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=115811385387576810&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/115811385387576810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/115811385387576810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2006/09/day-i-never-dreamed-would-happen.html' title='The Day I Never Dreamed Would Happen...'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-115492551678180124</id><published>2006-08-06T21:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-01T10:05:14.912-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Leadership</title><content type='html'>First, I thought I could place my trust in the company. But I found that companies aren't constant. They fold, change and downsize. Some companies are terrible to work for. Others, not so bad. I found that I cannot give my allegiance to the company.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, I thought that I could place my trust in the leader. But I found that leaders aren't constant. They die, transfer and quit. Some leaders are terrible to work for. Others, not so bad. I found that I cannot give my allegiance to the leader.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next, I thought that I could place my trust in the work. But I found that work isn't constant. It gets automated, redesigned and outsourced. Some work is terrible to do. Other work, not so bad. I found that I cannot give my allegiance to the work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, finally, I found something I can trust. It's constant...doesn't get downsized, transferred or outsourced. It's never, ever terrible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found that I can give my allegiance to...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe in myself. I am loyal, loving and trusting of myself, so no matter which company I work for, who my boss is, or what type of work I do, I find satisfaction and excellence.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-115492551678180124?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/115492551678180124/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=115492551678180124&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/115492551678180124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/115492551678180124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2006/08/leadership.html' title='Leadership'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-115492502157006952</id><published>2006-08-06T21:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-06T21:30:21.580-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Me</title><content type='html'>I am a loving, giving, motivational, inspirational woman.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-115492502157006952?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/115492502157006952/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=115492502157006952&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/115492502157006952'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/115492502157006952'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2006/08/me.html' title='Me'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-114980271932277308</id><published>2006-06-08T14:35:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-09T14:16:11.693-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What if...there's a LOT more left to learn...?</title><content type='html'>Recently, a new friend asked me what the &lt;strong&gt;Relationship of my Dreams &lt;/strong&gt;would look like. After some thought, I came up with four requirements that (at a minimum) all of the meaningful relationships in my life must consist of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trust...Love...Honesty...Respect&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I can say:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) I want personal relationships that are based on those four main requirements.&lt;br /&gt;2) In order to &lt;em&gt;have&lt;/em&gt; relationships based on those requirements, I must &lt;em&gt;find others&lt;/em&gt; who possess them.&lt;br /&gt;3) In order to ask for those requirements &lt;em&gt;from&lt;/em&gt; others, I have to be able to &lt;em&gt;bring them&lt;/em&gt; to the relationship.&lt;br /&gt;4) In order to bring them to a relationship with someone else, &lt;em&gt;I must first have a relationship with myself that includes those things!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must love, trust, respect and be honest with myself&lt;br /&gt;And I rarely am&lt;br /&gt;I wondered why I couldn't find fulfillment&lt;br /&gt;I was always searching&lt;br /&gt;And now I know&lt;br /&gt;I need to be good to me in order to be genuinely good to anyone else&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only through having that type of relationship with myself, can I stop looking for approval from others and start giving it to myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel a journey coming on...!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-114980271932277308?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/114980271932277308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=114980271932277308&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/114980271932277308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/114980271932277308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2006/06/what-iftheres-lot-more-left-to-learn.html' title='What if...there&apos;s a LOT more left to learn...?'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-114902755218974045</id><published>2006-05-30T15:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-30T15:19:12.206-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Waiting...</title><content type='html'>Some of the most valuable periods of life are those during which we are waiting for something to happen. It's in those quiet moments that have no particular purpose that we find the time to discover more about ourselves.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-114902755218974045?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/114902755218974045/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=114902755218974045&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/114902755218974045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/114902755218974045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2006/05/waiting.html' title='Waiting...'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-114896819917608553</id><published>2006-05-29T22:28:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-09T11:16:29.950-07:00</updated><title type='text'>trust me</title><content type='html'>the world will not stop spinning if you sit quietly for five minutes and do nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;no one will die because you turn your cell phone off while you take a 15-minute break&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;they will not stop making food on tuesday because you decided to sleep in late or stay in your pj's all day saturday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;your birthday will not be stolen from you if you stop, right now, for just one minute, take a big, deep breath and r-e-l-a-x&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i promise&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-114896819917608553?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/114896819917608553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=114896819917608553&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/114896819917608553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/114896819917608553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2006/05/trust-me_29.html' title='trust me'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-114850521317314321</id><published>2006-05-24T13:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-24T14:13:33.196-07:00</updated><title type='text'>spiritual blanket</title><content type='html'>go to the craft store&lt;br /&gt;choose a few skeens of yarn&lt;br /&gt;have your partner do the same&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;put the skeens side by side&lt;br /&gt;do the colors complement each other?&lt;br /&gt;how about the texture?&lt;br /&gt;the fibers?&lt;br /&gt;the feel?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;adjust as necessary until it feels right&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now, spend the better part of each day for a year knitting this carefully selected yarn into a nice, warm afghan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;use it for 50 years...18,250 days...438,000 hours...26,280,000 minutes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the course of 50 years, there will be births, deaths, taxes, high points, low points, comedy, tragedy, love and hate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the course of 50 years, that afghan will have warded off the freezing cold of a thousand winter nights, been tossed aside during summer heatwaves, covered sleeping grandchildren, and gotten spilled upon, ripped, poked, and rubbed thin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the course of 50 years, it will have been washed thousands of times, had hundreds of holes repaired and be frayed, worn and well-loved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Careful handling and timely repairs ensure a good, long life for the afghan.  Once so lovingly crafted, it would, after 50 years, show the signs of a dutiful existence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Such is a relationship. At the beginning, you bare your souls to each other in the hopes that you've found a good match. You reveal to each other your hopes, dreams, fears and burning desires. If you're lucky, you find that the person you are with has what it takes to be your lifetime partner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then begins the creation of a spiritual bond of love and warmth that brings the two of you together. Through time, the strength of that spiritual bond is tested. Much attention and love must be given to that bond. And, when rips and holes are made, they must be quickly repaired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just like the afghan needs to be repaired so that it can survive the years, so must our spiritual bond be repaired.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-114850521317314321?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/114850521317314321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=114850521317314321&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/114850521317314321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/114850521317314321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2006/05/spiritual-blanket.html' title='spiritual blanket'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-114607021379705000</id><published>2006-04-26T09:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-29T22:55:46.513-07:00</updated><title type='text'>self-reflection</title><content type='html'>i was told as a small child that loving one's self is vain&lt;br /&gt;and tho i know it's not true&lt;br /&gt;that little girl still lives inside me&lt;br /&gt;and she believes it&lt;br /&gt;the woman knows better&lt;br /&gt;but the little girl doesn't listen very well&lt;br /&gt;she never did&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-114607021379705000?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/114607021379705000/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=114607021379705000&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/114607021379705000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/114607021379705000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2006/04/self-reflection.html' title='self-reflection'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-113492780495905676</id><published>2005-12-18T09:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-18T09:43:24.970-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Real Thing</title><content type='html'>This afternoon, I decided to treat my son to one of his favorite holiday movies, The Santa Clause II.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We get to the scene in the movie where all the fictional characters of childhood are holding their annual meeting.  The camera pans the group, and Mikey names each one as they appear on the screen:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Santa...The Tooth Fairy...Cupid...The Easter Bunny...Mother Earth...Moses..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT!?!??!??!  HAHAHAHA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't have the heart to tell him that it was actually The Sandman!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-113492780495905676?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/113492780495905676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=113492780495905676&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/113492780495905676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/113492780495905676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2005/12/real-thing.html' title='The Real Thing'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-113321903684770040</id><published>2005-11-28T14:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-28T15:03:56.846-08:00</updated><title type='text'>There's Always Room For One More</title><content type='html'>Mikey loves Bionicles, these Lego creature thingies from outer space.  Look them up if you don't know what they are.  One particular character (Keetongu) is his favorite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He came in the room a moment ago and whispered to me, "Everyone thinks Keetongu is a legend or a myth, but we both know he's real."  Then he gave me a knowing look.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stared at him for a moment, trying to see if he was serious.  Then I asked, "Why did you have to whisper that?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He looked around the room like there were spies hidden in the corners and whispered, "Because &lt;em&gt;anybody&lt;/em&gt; could be listening."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Should aliens ever actually attack Earth, they won't get a thing outta this kid.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-113321903684770040?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/113321903684770040/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=113321903684770040&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/113321903684770040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/113321903684770040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2005/11/theres-always-room-for-one-more.html' title='There&apos;s Always Room For One More'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-113321811121095692</id><published>2005-11-28T14:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-28T14:57:11.356-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mikey Says</title><content type='html'>For the past few weeks, I have been working gi-normic amounts of overtime.  Most of it from home, thanks to cable modem.  My kids have definitely felt the sting of mom not being available to them, but none more so than Mikey, my 10 year old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he came home from school at 4:15 to find me at the computer &lt;em&gt;yet again &lt;/em&gt;he said, "Mom, you look stressed."  I told him I was so busy I didn't know which end was up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To which he solemnly advised me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"It's the end with your kids on it, mom!"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, I know.  You wish he was yours.  But you can't have him.  He's mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Allllllllllllll mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm taking someone out for pizza.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-113321811121095692?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/113321811121095692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=113321811121095692&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/113321811121095692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/113321811121095692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2005/11/mikey-says.html' title='Mikey Says'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-113294643299036669</id><published>2005-11-25T11:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-05-20T21:09:37.895-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Monkey See, Monkey Do</title><content type='html'>10 Favorites…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Favorite Color: Pink&lt;br /&gt;Favorite Food: Grits with heavy cream, sugar and lotsa butter&lt;br /&gt;Favorite Band/Singer: Luther Vandross&lt;br /&gt;Favorite Hobby: Chillin with the children&lt;br /&gt;Favorite Movie: The Jerk, As Good As It Gets&lt;br /&gt;Favorite Sport: Football, since Mikey plays&lt;br /&gt;Favorite Season: Fall&lt;br /&gt;Favorite Day of the Week: Saturday&lt;br /&gt;Favorite Ice Cream Flavor: Persimmon from the place in Nashville&lt;br /&gt;Favorite Time of Day: Bedtime&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9 Currents…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Current Mood: Antsy - I want to go shopping, but I'm trying to be good!&lt;br /&gt;Current Clothes: Pink fuzzy socks, inside-out nightgown and my pink fuzzy robe.&lt;br /&gt;Current Underwear Color: Blue &amp;amp; Pink boyshorts&lt;br /&gt;Current Desktop Picture: Jeff and Stephie-Pie&lt;br /&gt;Current Nail Color: Mauvin to Mongolia&lt;br /&gt;Current Time: 2:06pm&lt;br /&gt;Current Surroundings: Joel's bedroom&lt;br /&gt;Current Annoyances: It's a bit chilly in here&lt;br /&gt;Current Thoughts: I want to go shopping!!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8 Firsts…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First Best Friend: My guardian angel&lt;br /&gt;First Screen Name: twilight&lt;br /&gt;First Pet: A mutt named Snookie&lt;br /&gt;First Tattoo: None...yet&lt;br /&gt;First Love: Jack Alan Hignite&lt;br /&gt;Music Group: Well, it was Donny Osmond&lt;br /&gt;First Car: 1970 canary yellow Vega hatchback&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7 Lasts…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Cigarette: That would be a big, fat never&lt;br /&gt;Last Drink: Hot Chamomile tea, made by myRachel&lt;br /&gt;LastTime on Drugs: Midol a few days ago&lt;br /&gt;Last Kiss: A boy who drove from PA to see me&lt;br /&gt;Last Movie Watched: Austin Powers, the first one&lt;br /&gt;Last CD Played: Luther&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6 Have You Evers…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever dated one of your best friends? No&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever broken the law? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever been arrested? No&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever skinny dipped? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever been on television? I think maybe when I was younger&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever kissed someone you didn’t know? Yes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5 Places You’ve Been…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Canada&lt;br /&gt;Oklahoma&lt;br /&gt;Florida&lt;br /&gt;Colorado&lt;br /&gt;My Happy Place&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4 People...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4 People You Can Tell Anything To…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Momma&lt;br /&gt;My Sister&lt;br /&gt;Joel&lt;br /&gt;Arlene&lt;br /&gt;Linda&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3 Things…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3 things you can hear right now:&lt;br /&gt;Mikey and Austin laughing&lt;br /&gt;Smashmouth singing I'm A Believer&lt;br /&gt;the keys clicking on the keyboard&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3 things you can’t live without:&lt;br /&gt;My Kids&lt;br /&gt;My Family&lt;br /&gt;My Friends&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3 things you do when you’re bored:&lt;br /&gt;Sleep&lt;br /&gt;Read&lt;br /&gt;Play on the Internet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 Choices...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Black or white: Black&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hot or cold: Cold&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 Thing You Want To Do Before You Die…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to know absolutely in my heart and soul that my children are happy with themselves and with the lives they live.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-113294643299036669?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/113294643299036669/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=113294643299036669&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/113294643299036669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/113294643299036669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2005/11/monkey-see-monkey-do.html' title='Monkey See, Monkey Do'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-113192474888840317</id><published>2005-11-13T15:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-13T15:49:16.980-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Because Sometimes You Gotta Follow the Crowd...</title><content type='html'>All about...who else?  ME!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Spell your first name backwards: ANIT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Story behind your name: I think my Grandma Reka wanted me to be named Michelle. My mother wanted Tina. I'm glad my momma won! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. How old are you: A very satisfied 38&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Where do you live: East side of Indy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DESCRIBE YOUR…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Wallet: Hot pink and lime green&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Toothbrush: Pink and white with a pink brush cover&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Jewelry worn daily: Silver hoop earrings, silver butterfly bracelet, silver Citizen's watch.  Maybe a ring now and then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Pillow cover right now: Cream 450 thread count Egyptian cotton&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Sunglasses: Well, they &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;were&lt;/span&gt; these cute pink ones with sparklies on the sides. But...they fell out of my purse in the driveway and I smushed them with my car. They're in a landfill somewhere now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Favorite shirt: Black satin camisole with my burgundy crushed velvet jacket&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Cologne/Perfume: White Shoulders, of course&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. CD in stereo right now: An R&amp;B love song mix&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. Piercings: Ears twice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. What you are wearing now: Black and white Barbie jammie crop pants with hot pink bows at the ankles and a hot pink tank top. I'm lounging!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. Wishing: That my grandma Reka was here with me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. Wanting: To continue on with this particular phase of my life. I am looking forward to each tomorrow, being me, and enjoying my surroundings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. After this: Finish up writing a training course on a new piece of software my company purchased.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. If you could get away with it and murder anyone who would it be? Murder's not really my style. I prefer that the people I dislike live, so they can see how happy I am and then die of jealousy! One caveat. If you fuck with my children, you will die. Period. I don't care whether I get away with it or not. And it would not be murder. It would be a mother's justice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. Person you wish you could see right now: My momma&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. Favorite movie: The Jerk&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. Something you're looking forward to in the coming week: Trans-Siberian!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. The last thing you ate: Cheese pizza (thanks to my Jessie-Pie)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. Something you are deathly afraid of: Someone hurting one of my children.  See #18.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24. Do you believe in love at first sight? Let's see... My definition of love is when someone protects your heart at all costs, even if it's from themselves. So, the question becomes, do I believe that &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;at first sight&lt;/span&gt; someone would care enough about me to do that? No, I don't. And if they say they do, it's certainly a lie. Only by getting to know one another can you find love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25. What is the longest you've ever stayed up? About 37 hours - when Sammy went missing one Friday. It felt more like 1,000 hours. I was so scared that I didn't notice I was tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26. Can you eat with chopsticks? Yes, but after about 10 minutes of managing to get very little food in my mouth, I opt for the fork.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27. What's something that you wish people would understand better: That it's our job to be human&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28. What's something you wish you could understand better? Life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;29. What is something that you wish was still around? I really liked Atari&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;RELATIONSHIPS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30. How many people have you kissed? I can't count that high&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;31. Would you sacrifice your favorite possession for your best friend: Without hesitation&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FASHION STUFF&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;32. Where is your favorite place to shop? Dang, I can't choose just one place&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;33. Have any tattoos: Nope&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;34. What is your favorite thing to wear: As little as possible&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;35. How much is the most you've ever spent on a single item of clothing: I wouldn't brag about spending a lot of money on a single item. I would, however, be happy to tell you about the bargains I find!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;36. Who is the least fashionable person you know? I really shouldn't judge other people's fashion sense.  I mean, HAVE YOU SEEN ME? LOL :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;37. What is the worst trend you see today- ugly trends? That "sense of entitlement" attitude people wear. It's terribly unbecoming on even the most beautiful/handsome person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;38. Do you do drugs? Nah.  Nothing interesting, anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;39. What would you change about yourself? I would say maybe that bit of fat hanging from my jawline.  No, I can't change that - it was a gift from my grandmother. I know! My pot belly!  But wait, I would never change that because it's a gift from my children. Maybe my hair color. Nope, mom gave it to me. My height perhaps, but it's the only thing my biological father &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ever &lt;/span&gt;gave me.  Let's see...  I know what I'd change!  NOT A DAMN THING.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;40. What are essentials in your life ? My children, family, friends and a nice, comfy bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-113192474888840317?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/113192474888840317/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=113192474888840317&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/113192474888840317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/113192474888840317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2005/11/because-sometimes-you-gotta-follow.html' title='Because Sometimes You Gotta Follow the Crowd...'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-113046776143395833</id><published>2005-10-27T19:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-27T19:49:21.446-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My First Halloween...</title><content type='html'>This will be the first Halloween that I will be without a child dressed in costume with whom to roam the streets of Irvington. Over the years, my kids have been:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* a bag of trash - Rachel&lt;br /&gt;* a dead football player - Sammy&lt;br /&gt;* dracula - Joel&lt;br /&gt;* mad scientist who killed people - Joel&lt;br /&gt;* dentist who pulled his own tooth - Sammy&lt;br /&gt;* fancy belle of the ball complete with evening gown and water-filled balloons for boobs - Rachel&lt;br /&gt;* Ninja - Mikey (for the past 4 years)&lt;br /&gt;* Annakin Skywalker - Mikey&lt;br /&gt;* Buzz LightYear - Mikey&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a big Halloween party a couple of years ago, complete with fog machine and supper in a pumpkin (very yummy!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this year, since Mike and I are separated, Mikey will be with him. We already bought Mikey's costume . . . a bright, red ninja costume. I can just imagine him running up and down the driveways with his cousins yelling, "Happy Halloween!" Years ago, my kids decided they didn't want to shout the traditional "trick or treat" when folks opened their doors. Instead, they decided to yell, "Happy Halloween!" and it stuck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From the year Rachel was a bag of trash with gum wrappers stuck in her picked out hair, to Joel being a vampire and actually taking a sip of "vampire blood" at one house (much to my horror), to Sammy being a dentist who pulled his own tooth and the black kept coming off of his tooth all night long, it's been an amazing and spooky adventure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's difficult to think about this being the last year for trick or treating with my children. Mikey's 10 years old and likely won't be interested in this particular activity much longer. So, although I am happy that Mikey is spending time with his dad and cousins, I am sad for myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Irvington will have to celebrate Halloween without my four precious little goblins this year.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-113046776143395833?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/113046776143395833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/113046776143395833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2005/10/my-first-halloween.html' title='My First Halloween...'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-113017449248159084</id><published>2005-10-24T10:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-24T10:21:32.490-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What do you need?</title><content type='html'>Go to Google and type in "[your name] needs" and then search.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are the results of "tina needs":&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  a slower pace&lt;br /&gt;2.  a ride&lt;br /&gt;3.  to narrow her shoulders and create a waist (from What Not to Wear)&lt;br /&gt;4.  a response&lt;br /&gt;5.  to ask other parents to pay a little more to enable Tina's needs to be met&lt;br /&gt;6.  to see this (curiously, under a section called PoopScoop)&lt;br /&gt;7.  your help&lt;br /&gt;8.  to read&lt;br /&gt;9.  a boy (i would prefer a man)&lt;br /&gt;10. two more cents&lt;br /&gt;11. a specialist dementia social worker&lt;br /&gt;12. someone nice ;o) (from a fetish swingers site!)&lt;br /&gt;13. to f**k (yikes!)&lt;br /&gt;14. to be kicked in the face multiple times (uh, no thanks)&lt;br /&gt;15. immigration help&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enjoy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-113017449248159084?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/113017449248159084/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=113017449248159084&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/113017449248159084'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/113017449248159084'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2005/10/what-do-you-need.html' title='What do you need?'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-112872460585817786</id><published>2005-10-07T15:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-07T16:18:47.693-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things My Mother Told Me</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;September 10, 2001:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone's life throws spitballs, some more than others.  You have always acted like yours were made out of fairy dust.&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;MOM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;November 5, 2001:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know you are still going through a lot of turmoil in your life so I don't bother you too much. I hope it all gets straightened out for you one of these days soon. You are a very special person. Just remember that sometimes we make wrong choices. When we do, we have to "fix" our lives. Being the strong women we are, we can do this. It just takes some time. Then, we can be ourselves again. I hope your "fix", however you decide to do it, brings you peace and happiness. You have brought a lot of peace and happiness to others and you deserve it for yourself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you very much.&lt;br /&gt;Mom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;December 12, 2001:  &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HI!!! Just wanted to let you know that I have not heard from Star Staffing yet. I take that as a bad sign. I find it hard to believe that they do not see the benefits of hiring me, especially since I am a mega genius. I know this because I reached a score of 81,410 on Atomica this morning and became a mega genius. To this point in my life, I am not sure that I had reached that level of success but when it is printed in front of you it is hard to argue. Phil feels a difference in the air so I know this is true. Now if only I could find those contrails that give you super powers, my day would be complete with or without a call from Star Staffing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope you have a wonderful day. I am leaving now in the pursuit of life, liberty and happiness. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yours truly, &lt;br /&gt;Mama Megagenius &lt;br /&gt;Swooooping awayyyyy...... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;January 3, 2002:  &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe I might have surpassed the expectations of the mega genius status. I now own a bright red Blazer. Surely, this is a sign. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With your new position in life and the fact that you will shortly be driving the car of the one previously known as MEMA (now known as SUPER MEMA --- yes, Elizabeth, there is a contrail for super powers), you are hereby elevated to Mega Genius In The Making.  When we next meet, we will find the wizard and have him bestow the title on you formally. Until then, click your heels together three times and say "I ain't afraid of no ghosts". This will work as long as you don't go through the hidden door in the back of the cupboard/closet, which could lead you into that cold world that I cannot remember the name of......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beware of the Ides of March!! Don't walk under a ladder? Let everyone know if you make that hole-in-one!?X&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must go now. I see another email entitled "Sanity Test". It intrigues me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;SUPER MEMA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;February 2, 2002:  &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each of us can fill up our lives with the things that go on around us. It takes special effort to make sure that those we love are not left on the sidelines. Many times they are the ones who are being the most supportive by being understanding about our involvement with others and other things. But it never fails that we will need them and miss them at some point. And we need to make sure that we have not allowed &lt;strong&gt;their &lt;/strong&gt;lives to fill up without &lt;strong&gt;us&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;March 5, 2002:  &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have grown to be lovely women [addressing my sister and me] -- the kind that makes me very proud -- to be your mother. Have a wonderful day.&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;MOM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;October 24, 2002:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so pleased that you got this [an award at work]. It shows that every once in awhile, people notice. Seldom do they take the time to tell you, so a big thank you from me to David Turner for telling the world that you are great. I'm very proud to be your mom.&lt;br /&gt;I love you, my star.&lt;br /&gt;MOM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;January 22, 2003:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OMG --- I can't tell you how much it means to me that you sent that to me [an email telling her how much I love her]. You are a wonderfully loving daughter and I feel blessed to have you in my life. I love you very much and I am glad that I can be a little lightness in your life. Thank you.&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;MOM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;April 26, 2003:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Congrats. I'm always very proud of you, but it's wonderful when others recognize you too [another award at work]. It makes me feel even more proud that you are my daughter.&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;MOM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;See why I love her?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-112872460585817786?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/112872460585817786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=112872460585817786&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/112872460585817786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/112872460585817786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2005/10/things-my-mother-told-me.html' title='Things My Mother Told Me'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-112681447689610804</id><published>2005-09-15T12:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-15T13:01:16.900-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I want this back. Let's hope it works for us</title><content type='html'>I received from my favorite aunt:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's hope it works for us&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IF THIS WORKS FOR YOU - BE SURE AND LET ME KNOW – I HAVE SENT THIS ONE OUT TIME AND AGAIN - AND SO FAR NOTHING OUTSTANDING HAS HAPPENED EXCEPT I AM STILL AROUND - I GUESS THAT COULD BE CONSIDERED OUTSTANDING - RIGHT ? ? ?&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;It is a great blessing regardless of any gain!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Results from past recipients:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not sure if this had anything to do with it but it was shortly after I sent this out - I got a call to say our bond was approved - against all odds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if it works but i won a new fridge full of various cool drinks from Beyer And Beyer last week. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I do not know if it works, but I won a microwave yesterday (08 August 2004). Seems like it Hey !! &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Have to take a chance on this one! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good luck to everyone! And may all your dreams come true!!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;----- This may sound nuts, but my husband got this the other day and sent it off. About 10 minutes later a really good financial windfall happened for his son&lt;br /&gt;Sean who he had sent it too as well. One of the people he sent it to was responsible for the windfall. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;AN IRISH FRIENDSHIP WISH &lt;br /&gt;Good Luck!! &lt;br /&gt;I hope it works...&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;May there always be work for your hands to do; &lt;br /&gt;May your purse always hold a coin or two; &lt;br /&gt;May the sun always shine on your windowpane;&lt;br /&gt;May a rainbow be certain to follow each rain; &lt;br /&gt;May the hand of a friend always be near you; &lt;br /&gt;May God fill your heart with gladness to cheer you.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;OK, this is what you have to do.... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Send this to all of your friends!  But - you HAVE to send this within 1 hour from when you open it!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Now.................Make A wish!!!!!!  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I hope you made your wish! Now then, if you send to: &lt;br /&gt; 1 person --- your wish will be granted in 1 year&lt;br /&gt; 3 people --- 6 months &lt;br /&gt; 5 people --- 3 months &lt;br /&gt; 6 people --- 1 month &lt;br /&gt; 7 people --- 2 weeks &lt;br /&gt; 8 people --- 1 week &lt;br /&gt; 9 people --- 5 days &lt;br /&gt;10 people --- 3 days &lt;br /&gt;12 people --- 2 days &lt;br /&gt;15 people --- 1 day &lt;br /&gt;20 people --- 3 hours&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;If you delete this after you read it . you will have 1 year of bad luck! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But .. if you send it 2 of your friends you will automatically have 3 years of good luck!!! :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AND MY RESPONSE WAS:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, and if you actually consider sending it even though you don't think these things really work, but you decide to go ahead and send it because your luck has been crap lately and you need all the help you can get, but your boss walks up just as you are pasting the last email address in the To line, and you try to close the email window, but you only succeed in making it bigger and then you can't get it to minimize and your boss is standing there talking to you and glancing at your pc every few minutes and you know he's reading the email you were going to send and you realize it's probably very obvious to him that it's personal stuff on company time, and then your boss walks away and you just know he's thinking you're more of a fruitloop than he did ten minutes ago, and so you not only close the email without sending it, but you also mark it for deletion and then empty it from your email account completely, which means you don't end up sending it to anyone, and according to the email you will now have an additional year of bad luck, and then you realize that one more year doesn't really matter because you're used to bad luck, so you get up from your chair and leave your office to go get coffee and then you feel something around your ankles and you look down and your panties are resting happily on top of your shoes...and you realize that today you wore your sleazy red thong panties...and you look up and your boss is standing there because he was talking to one of your coworkers in the hallway...and now they're both gaping at you...and you wish that the ground would just open up and swallow you...but of course it doesn't...and you realize that you should have just told your boss to hold on a minute while you hit the Send button...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-112681447689610804?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/112681447689610804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=112681447689610804&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/112681447689610804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/112681447689610804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2005/09/i-want-this-back-lets-hope-it-works.html' title='I want this back. Let&apos;s hope it works for us'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-112551282763518641</id><published>2005-08-31T11:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-15T12:52:09.246-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mikey Says</title><content type='html'>"I got my anger from my dad...and my strength and toughness from my dad.  And I got the power to control all of it from my mom."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And he's nine.  And he's mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank God he's mine.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-112551282763518641?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/112551282763518641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/112551282763518641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2005/08/mikey-says.html' title='Mikey Says'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-112482212193807923</id><published>2005-08-23T11:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-23T11:35:21.950-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Birthday to Me!</title><content type='html'>Things I Love About Me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* My hands&lt;br /&gt;* I'm a great mom&lt;br /&gt;* I have pretty green eyes&lt;br /&gt;* I love a wide variety of music&lt;br /&gt;* I have a great job&lt;br /&gt;* I'm friendly and enjoy being around people&lt;br /&gt;* I am kind to others&lt;br /&gt;* I love children&lt;br /&gt;* I'm funny and quick to laugh&lt;br /&gt;* I sing in the shower&lt;br /&gt;* I am a good sleeper&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have a great day, me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-112482212193807923?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/112482212193807923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=112482212193807923&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/112482212193807923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/112482212193807923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2005/08/happy-birthday-to-me.html' title='Happy Birthday to Me!'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-112476757886592431</id><published>2005-08-22T20:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-09T12:55:29.753-07:00</updated><title type='text'>If I Had My VERY OWN Life to Live Over . . .</title><content type='html'>I would have:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Spent more time with my grandma Reka and asked her more questions about her childhood&lt;br /&gt;* Worried less about sleep and more about how fortunate I was to have little people who woke me up in the wee hours of the morning&lt;br /&gt;* Been more selective in my choice of husbands&lt;br /&gt;* Discovered earlier that I am a good woman&lt;br /&gt;* Listened to my mother more often&lt;br /&gt;* Studied harder in school&lt;br /&gt;* Danced at high school parties&lt;br /&gt;* Stuck with playing the trumpet&lt;br /&gt;* Given more attention to the world around me&lt;br /&gt;* Burned less bridges&lt;br /&gt;* Kept in close contact with my Aunt Sonnie&lt;br /&gt;* Listened more closely to the lessons my Grandpa McKee taught me&lt;br /&gt;* Not worried that I was a little overweight&lt;br /&gt;* Never gone to live with my biological father when I was 18&lt;br /&gt;* Told my GG just one more time that I love her and that it made me laugh we she called peeing "going tinkle"&lt;br /&gt;* Committed to memory every moment of my life from birth to age five (it was fabulous being me during that time!)&lt;br /&gt;* Understood how very much my grandparents and great-grandparents loved me&lt;br /&gt;* Not fallen in love with every boy or man who gave me the time of day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NOW...Things I wouldn't change for anything...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Joel, my first-born, music-technology-alien-loving, graphic designer, computer freaky son&lt;br /&gt;* Sammy, my energetic, intelligent, video gamer, student of life, I Am My Own Person son&lt;br /&gt;* Rachel, my spiritual, inspirational lover of life, Get Involved With People and Projects angel of a daughter&lt;br /&gt;* Mikey, my Work In Progress, army-man, football player, funny and smart and We'll See What Comes Our Way son&lt;br /&gt;* My talented and loving mother, who never ceases to amaze me&lt;br /&gt;* My beautiful sister Rachel, who is the best mother on the planet&lt;br /&gt;* My extremely talented brother Cameron, who just became a daddy&lt;br /&gt;* Having Mark for a stepdad - the lessons were intense and valuable&lt;br /&gt;* We Love Phil, my mother's hubby - more good qualities than I can list here&lt;br /&gt;* My friends&lt;br /&gt;* The hard times&lt;br /&gt;* The good times&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-112476757886592431?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/112476757886592431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=112476757886592431&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/112476757886592431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/112476757886592431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2005/08/if-i-had-my-very-own-life-to-live-over.html' title='If I Had My VERY OWN Life to Live Over . . .'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-112437802142427363</id><published>2005-08-18T08:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-18T08:13:41.430-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;If I Had My Life to Live Over &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I would have talked less and listened more.&lt;br /&gt;I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained, or the sofa faded.&lt;br /&gt;I would have eaten popcorn in the 'good' living room and worried much less about the dirt when someone wanted to light a fire in the fireplace.&lt;br /&gt;I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.&lt;br /&gt;I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed.&lt;br /&gt;I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage.&lt;br /&gt;I would have sat on the lawn with my children and not worried about grass stains.&lt;br /&gt;I would have cried and laughed less while watching television-and more while watching life.&lt;br /&gt;I would have shared more of the responsibility carried by my husband.&lt;br /&gt;I would have gone to bed when I was sick instead of pretending the earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren't there for the day.&lt;br /&gt;I would never have bought anything just because it was practical, wouldn't show soil, or was guaranteed to last a lifetime.&lt;br /&gt;Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy, I'd have cherished every moment and realized that the wonderment growing inside me was the only chance in life to assist God in a miracle.&lt;br /&gt;When my kids kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, "Later. Now go get washed up for dinner."&lt;br /&gt;There would have been more "I love you's"... more "I'm sorry's" ... but mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute ... look at it and really see it ... live it ... and never give it back. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Stop sweating the small stuff. Don't worry about who doesn't like you, who has more, or who's doing what. Instead, let's cherish the relationships we have with those who do love us. Let's think about what God has blessed us with and what we are doing each day to promote ourselves mentally, physically, emotionally, as well as spiritually. Life is too short to let it pass you by. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;We only have one shot at this life and then it's gone.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;- Erma Bombeck&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-112437802142427363?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/112437802142427363/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=112437802142427363&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/112437802142427363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/112437802142427363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2005/08/if-i-had-my-life-to-live-over-i-would.html' title=''/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-111895841414190182</id><published>2005-06-16T14:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-16T14:46:54.173-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Finding Strength</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Although it is hard for me to hear women justify their reasons for staying with abusive men, I have been there and I understand. There are so many of us out here - we have so much in common. But, it is embarrassing and socially unacceptable to talk about the &lt;strong&gt;real&lt;/strong&gt; issues involved with domestic violence.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;We dance around the abuse and call our husbands &lt;em&gt;controlling&lt;/em&gt;, &lt;em&gt;jealous &lt;/em&gt;or say they are &lt;em&gt;penny pinchers&lt;/em&gt;. We accept the fact that they read our mail, listen to our voicemail, go through our personal belongings, check our pagers and caller id's, but we would never have accepted that nosiness from our parents when we were teenagers.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;We allow them to scream accusations and obscenities at us and call us horrible, filthy names, with their faces inches from ours, feeling the heat of their anger and rage. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And we lie to ourselves. We tell ourselves it's okay, because they love us, it only happens sometimes, he always says he's sorry, my children need their father, I don't want to be alone, I need the money, I don't want to lose my home, what will my parents think, he's a good provider, the good times are so good, he's so handsome, etc.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;But, we would never let our children or a stranger on the street talk to us that way. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Yet, we accept those things from the person closest to us, whatever you want to call them, they are our husbands --- our partners --- the fathers of our children --- our best friends --- lover --- confidant --- trusted friend.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And, when it's over they apologize and we forgive them --- tell them we understand --- make them dinner --- share their beds --- love them. And we promise ourselves that we will be more careful, never say "that" again, never ask that question again, never get that look on our faces again, never confront him again, never spend that much money again. And we walk on eggshells, watching how we talk, dress, act, sit, think, and eat.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And they think it's okay. And when we watch them pretend like nothing ever happened, calling us &lt;em&gt;honey&lt;/em&gt;, &lt;em&gt;baby &lt;/em&gt;and &lt;em&gt;sweetie &lt;/em&gt;a little piece of us dies. A little bit of that beautiful flower our mothers and fathers planted inside us long ago wilts, and over the years the beauty fades, the self esteem goes, the smiles turn to frowns, and our hopes and dreams are a distant memory.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;What is it in us that we make the unacceptable become acceptable for them? How can we trick ourselves so successfully into believing that they have our best interests in mind? How can we keep smiling, holding down good jobs, raising kids, while all the while we live a lie on the inside?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;How? Because we are strong women. Imagine if we focused that strength on OURSELVES instead of on them.&lt;/p&gt;Just imagine...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-111895841414190182?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/111895841414190182/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=111895841414190182&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/111895841414190182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/111895841414190182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2005/06/finding-strength.html' title='Finding Strength'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423849.post-111792811967616086</id><published>2005-06-04T15:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-04T16:35:19.680-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Confession</title><content type='html'>I have made a mess of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every thought that turned to action and every thought that put me at an impasse, causing me to not act at all, has brought me to where I am right at this very moment. It's 6:14pm by my clock, at my desk, in my house, on my street, in my town.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I move my fingers over the keys on this keyboard in repeated patterns I learned years ago, my thoughts and feeling are recorded. Well, at least a part of them is recorded. Because even as I think and write my most conscious thoughts, there are a multitude of other thoughts racing around behind the scenes, refusing to slow down long enough for me to catch and record them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, have you ever tried to make your mind go completely blank?  Ever consciously tried to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; think?  I have tried so many times and always, just when I think I've done it, I realize that I am &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;thinking&lt;/span&gt; I've done it and I blow the whole thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, anyhow, back to my life... Yes. It's a mess. A carefully crafted tower of cards that appears to be solidly built by anyone on the outside looking in, but one that I am fairly certain is going to cause me to have some serious conversations with God or Buddah or Allah or Darth Vader, or whomever decided up there in The Cosmos that this soul that inhabits my body is capable of enduring the endless thick coating of bullshit that has been slathered on me by my own two hands for most of my sad, miserable, and somehow oddly enjoyable 37 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;really&lt;/span&gt; blame any Higher Power, but it sure would be nice to know was She was thinking when She mapped out a plan for My Life. It must have been Her off day, because from what I can see, She did a pretty good job with the people around me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, She does have a sense of humor, because just look at me. I mean really. What's up with this? In all honesty, good things DO happen to me. Sometimes. I mean, the laws of probability say so, right??? Maybe today's lesson is that I need to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;make&lt;/span&gt; good things happen and not just sit around waiting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so my confession. Lately, I've been catching these fleeting feelings of happiness or peace of mind or security (not sure exactly &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;what&lt;/span&gt; I'm catching) but it's just beyond my reach. Sometimes, it's a smile or a sound or something I see that reminds me of a way I felt a long time ago when life was safe and predictable...peaceful, serene...just really &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;okay&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;alright&lt;/span&gt;.  Before my life became a mess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, yeah.  Fasten your seatbelt.  I'll blog about that next time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13423849-111792811967616086?l=myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/feeds/111792811967616086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13423849&amp;postID=111792811967616086&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/111792811967616086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13423849/posts/default/111792811967616086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myghostloverhasectoplasmiclips.blogspot.com/2005/06/confession.html' title='Confession'/><author><name>Tina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04664124433265638648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_42RboKtopS0/SJUiAeOaP9I/AAAAAAAAACI/WfKx6s_fGIY/S220/Picture+126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
