<?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-5100625262080312447</id><updated>2012-02-10T20:15:28.818-06:00</updated><category term='ramps'/><category term='Financial Responsibility'/><category term='motorcycles'/><category term='Migraines'/><category term='blessings'/><category term='strength'/><category term='family'/><category term='Myself'/><category term='Jobs'/><category term='rituals'/><category term='abuse'/><category term='comaplaints'/><category term='New Years'/><category term='work'/><category term='Dancing'/><category term='Religion'/><title type='text'>Excerpts From the Mind of a Crazed Overachiever</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>~Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03313730980584097656</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SnapWDBmd8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/RXqBb7kq6qk/S220/DSCF0968.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>39</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100625262080312447.post-2382689379615862167</id><published>2011-05-20T20:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-20T20:17:03.106-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Denver</title><content type='html'>I really hate Denver.&amp;nbsp; Or at least, the Denver Metro.&amp;nbsp; I miss Pomona.&amp;nbsp; Nice, quiet.&amp;nbsp; Ottawa was close if we needed anything.&amp;nbsp; Denver - loud, busy, stinky, too many people, never any quiet.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and so, we're looking at a house.&amp;nbsp; In Elizabeth.&amp;nbsp; Hopefully, something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="" height="344" src="http://p.rdcpix.com/v02/l1eaffd42-m0x.jpg" width="459" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that contains this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="" height="344" src="http://p.rdcpix.com/v02/l1eaffd42-m1x.jpg" width="459" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;on this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="" height="344" src="http://p.rdcpix.com/v03/l1eaffd42-m11x.jpg" width="459" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's just a dream, for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the up side, I have a possible promotion coming at work.&amp;nbsp; One of the guys has been impressed iwth my work I guess and wants to take me and train me to eventually become the contracts manager.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would kill for my own office at this point.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5100625262080312447-2382689379615862167?l=excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/feeds/2382689379615862167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5100625262080312447&amp;postID=2382689379615862167&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/2382689379615862167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/2382689379615862167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/2011/05/denver.html' title='Denver'/><author><name>~Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03313730980584097656</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SnapWDBmd8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/RXqBb7kq6qk/S220/DSCF0968.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100625262080312447.post-6461061114944525405</id><published>2011-03-24T22:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-24T22:53:09.578-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Forgiveness</title><content type='html'>I'm bad at forgiveness. It's something I'm working on but I just can't seem to get that anger and resentment out of my heart.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5100625262080312447-6461061114944525405?l=excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/feeds/6461061114944525405/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5100625262080312447&amp;postID=6461061114944525405&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/6461061114944525405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/6461061114944525405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/2011/03/forgiveness.html' title='Forgiveness'/><author><name>~Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03313730980584097656</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SnapWDBmd8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/RXqBb7kq6qk/S220/DSCF0968.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100625262080312447.post-6669976596801102947</id><published>2011-02-11T11:45:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-11T11:45:41.249-06:00</updated><title type='text'>On....stuff</title><content type='html'>What has there been to say?&amp;nbsp; Some days I hate it here so much, miss my family and friends, my home, my old job so much that I could sit and cry for hours?&amp;nbsp; No one wants to hear that.&amp;nbsp; That some days I love the independance of moving away from everyone we know, the lack of obligations, the excitement of life, that I never want to go back?&amp;nbsp; No one wants to hear that either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I just keep plodding along.&amp;nbsp; A new friend told me that I was too responsible, so I quit my job.&amp;nbsp; There were many reasons, just a few of which: I was working crappy hours, made crappy money, had to babysit their kid (in the middle of pottytraining) while also trying to work, got yelled at constantly, had to deal with double standards and so much more.&amp;nbsp; I lasted a little over six months, gave them a weeks notice and they told me that I could just leave that afternoon.&amp;nbsp; Really?&amp;nbsp; The only thing I miss was the kid.&amp;nbsp; I didn't like having to work and take care of her at the same time, but there's just something endearing about having your bosses kid walk in and immediately climb in your lap and give you a hug because she's gotten to know you so well over the last few months.&amp;nbsp; Really, this kid could even talk about the shoes I wore last week.&amp;nbsp; NOT KIDDING.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, without going in to too much detail for people, we've found out that it will be hard for us to have kids.&amp;nbsp; We've been "letting nature take it's course" for almost 2 years and nothing, so I'm guessing it'll be pretty hard indeed.&amp;nbsp; It kills me to see kids and hear people talk about their kids.&amp;nbsp; And I hate myself for that because I love kids and I love my friends.&amp;nbsp; It's a love/hate thing going on with me right now.&amp;nbsp; I can't really talk about because my husband just feels guilty and then sulks and pouts when I do.&amp;nbsp; Oh well, I'm almost 24.&amp;nbsp; Another 16 years and I won't have to worry about it anymore, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was offered a job today as an office assistant and eventual office manager once i get a feel for the job and company.&amp;nbsp; I'll be making much better money, with benefits.&amp;nbsp; I'll have to go clothes shopping because I don't own very many clothes dressy enough for this job.&amp;nbsp; I've sold out.&amp;nbsp; I swore I'd never work just for money and insurance and thats exactly what I've done.&amp;nbsp; And for what reason???&amp;nbsp; Who am I becoming?&amp;nbsp; Oh, right.&amp;nbsp; An adult.&amp;nbsp; Great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So thats what's going on in my life.&amp;nbsp; Greetings from Snowy Colorado!&amp;nbsp; HA!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5100625262080312447-6669976596801102947?l=excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/feeds/6669976596801102947/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5100625262080312447&amp;postID=6669976596801102947&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/6669976596801102947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/6669976596801102947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/2011/02/onstuff.html' title='On....stuff'/><author><name>~Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03313730980584097656</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SnapWDBmd8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/RXqBb7kq6qk/S220/DSCF0968.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100625262080312447.post-1698515361743386016</id><published>2010-08-22T14:59:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-22T22:18:50.008-05:00</updated><title type='text'>On camping, and moving</title><content type='html'>We went camping this weekend.&amp;nbsp; Oh mother nature, how I love thee.&amp;nbsp; The freaky little black mouse-squirrels that chatter at you, in what I am shure is squirrel for "Eff you you bastards, you're messing up my nut burrying!"&amp;nbsp; The little chipmunks, the marmots.&amp;nbsp; (What the HELL is a marmot anyway?&amp;nbsp; Freaky groundhog things.)&amp;nbsp; Best of all, at night, its just the wind in the trees and the sound of an owl or maybe a few bats.&amp;nbsp; No screaming kids, sirens, traffic, and no neighbors screaming at her baby-daddy about how she can't get her weave fixed because he's too lazy to get a job.&amp;nbsp; (Not that that's a mostl-true stereotype of half of our neighbors in this building.&amp;nbsp; Not at ALL....)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The one thing about it though, any time we get back, I want to flippin kiss the person who invented indoor plumbing.&amp;nbsp; I'm not really&amp;nbsp; much for peeing behind a tree.&amp;nbsp; Although, given the choice, I would rather pe behind the tree than on the top of a mountain where there's no cover, besides the Jeep, for about 20 miles around.&amp;nbsp; Not that this happened.&amp;nbsp; On this mountain.&amp;nbsp; Ah-Hem.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/THHoOsTVBLI/AAAAAAAAADQ/cOYOPCoSwcc/s1600/40517_1361886211088_1349574508_30915454_8154145_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ox="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/THHoOsTVBLI/AAAAAAAAADQ/cOYOPCoSwcc/s320/40517_1361886211088_1349574508_30915454_8154145_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;This was actually taken by a friend of ours.&amp;nbsp; I had some amazing pictures, but none that really caputured the height of the mountain.&amp;nbsp; Notice, this entire shot is well ABOVE the tree line.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The perk of that was that I now know how to pee without taking my pants off or peeing on them.&amp;nbsp; Score one for me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fail to understand why anyone would not want to take full advantage of the miracle of indoor plumbing.&amp;nbsp; I guess I could ask the guy peeing off the balcony of the apartment a cuple of floors above us last month.&amp;nbsp; On the other hand, how about not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have I mentioned that I'm happy as hell to be moving for the 4th time in 2 1/2&amp;nbsp;years?&amp;nbsp; No?&amp;nbsp; I'm about to start doing flippin cartwheels.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; We get to start moving in about two weeks.&amp;nbsp; And hopfully I'll never know the ending to the balad of the neighbor, her weave, her baby-daddy, and the much screamed about job.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5100625262080312447-1698515361743386016?l=excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/feeds/1698515361743386016/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5100625262080312447&amp;postID=1698515361743386016&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/1698515361743386016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/1698515361743386016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/2010/08/on-camping-and-moving.html' title='On camping, and moving'/><author><name>~Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03313730980584097656</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SnapWDBmd8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/RXqBb7kq6qk/S220/DSCF0968.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/THHoOsTVBLI/AAAAAAAAADQ/cOYOPCoSwcc/s72-c/40517_1361886211088_1349574508_30915454_8154145_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100625262080312447.post-7080750580551192044</id><published>2010-06-12T21:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-12T21:25:06.185-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Well, I guess we're all settled in Aurora.&amp;nbsp; "Settled"&amp;nbsp; Jordan loves his job.&amp;nbsp; We're looking for a better place to live, and I need to find a job.&amp;nbsp; I&amp;nbsp; just don't want to.&amp;nbsp; The idea of having to go to and from work here is just exhausting in itself.&amp;nbsp; I can't understand why people want to do it.&amp;nbsp; Why people give themselves such stressful lives on purpose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the upside, the one thing about living here that I really love - I live across the street from an organic grocery store.&amp;nbsp; Now, they're more expensive on meat and dairy than back home, but cheaper on fresh produce.&amp;nbsp; So, surprisingly, it's been a lot easier to eat healthy here.&amp;nbsp; Instead of buying hamburger helper on sale for $0.75, I'm buying romaine and red leaf lettuce for $0.88 each.&amp;nbsp; (I haven't seen a head of iceburg there yet.)&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This evening - a jar of spaghetti sauce, 2 mangoes,&amp;nbsp; a bunch of romaine lettuce, 2 bunches of red leaf lettuce, 3 tomatoes, 5 lbs of chicken tenders, 4 apples, a bunch of radishes, a big container of yogurt, a bottle of apple juice, a small bunch of bananas, 3 red bell peppers, two small blocks of cheese, and 3 avocados for $41.&amp;nbsp; I don't think that's that bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My best deal tonight?&amp;nbsp; I had a coupon for kohl's.&amp;nbsp; Normally, I hate kohls.&amp;nbsp; I think their stuff is WAY expensive and for only average quality.&amp;nbsp; To&amp;nbsp; me, it's a status thing, not really a value thing.&amp;nbsp; But, they're having a father's day sale and I&amp;nbsp; had this coupon.&amp;nbsp; $10 anything in the store, clearance included.&amp;nbsp; So I went to buy J a new shirt, since he has to have more dress casual stuff for work now instead of his ratty work clothes that he used to have to wear.&amp;nbsp; I went straight to the clearance racks.&amp;nbsp; Not much that he would wear.&amp;nbsp; No stripes, no pastels, no prints really.&amp;nbsp; Preferably a light weight polo or button down shirt.&amp;nbsp; I found one that was ok.&amp;nbsp; Not one that he'll be thrilled with, but it'll be ok.&amp;nbsp; Sage green polo.&amp;nbsp; Originally $26.&amp;nbsp; When I picked it up, the sign just said on sale 30-50% off, but didn't give an exact sale price.&amp;nbsp; I just figured even at 30% off, and my $10, it'd still be a decent price.&amp;nbsp; Imagine my surprise at the register when the girl told me I didn't owe anything.&amp;nbsp; The shirt was $9.99 on sale.&amp;nbsp; With my $10 coupon?&amp;nbsp; Oh yeah, one shirt, completely FREE baby!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so that's really all the rambling I have energy for.&amp;nbsp; I haven't gotten used to the fast pace here.&amp;nbsp; It just sucks the energy out of me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5100625262080312447-7080750580551192044?l=excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/feeds/7080750580551192044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5100625262080312447&amp;postID=7080750580551192044&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/7080750580551192044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/7080750580551192044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/2010/06/well-i-guess-were-all-settled-in-aurora.html' title=''/><author><name>~Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03313730980584097656</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SnapWDBmd8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/RXqBb7kq6qk/S220/DSCF0968.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100625262080312447.post-6960412499949147998</id><published>2010-05-11T21:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-11T21:25:35.560-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh boy...</title><content type='html'>It's been awhile.&amp;nbsp; Ok.&amp;nbsp; So.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.&amp;nbsp; I'm moving to Colorado.&amp;nbsp; Aurora, for now.&amp;nbsp; J found a job there so off we go.&amp;nbsp; Saturday.&amp;nbsp; Yes, it's sudden.&amp;nbsp; heh.&amp;nbsp; Yes, I'm pretty much freaking out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. We're renting our house out.&amp;nbsp; I think this will be good, but I have reservations.&amp;nbsp; Just because I'm cautious, but I'm trusting my house to other people, and that's hard for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. I'm moving into an apartment half the size of my house.&amp;nbsp; Without a washer and dryer or hookups.&amp;nbsp; This makes me miserable.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Jordan and I have been fighting about said apartment and said job and much more that is unsaid.&amp;nbsp; This whole process was not well thought out or well executed.&amp;nbsp; He just kind of seen and did.&amp;nbsp; He didn't really THINK.&amp;nbsp; Neither did I though.&amp;nbsp; There was too much to do in too little time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honestly, that's all I've got for now.&amp;nbsp;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5100625262080312447-6960412499949147998?l=excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/feeds/6960412499949147998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5100625262080312447&amp;postID=6960412499949147998&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/6960412499949147998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/6960412499949147998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/2010/05/oh-boy.html' title='Oh boy...'/><author><name>~Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03313730980584097656</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SnapWDBmd8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/RXqBb7kq6qk/S220/DSCF0968.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100625262080312447.post-951234899509781138</id><published>2010-01-17T19:24:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-17T19:24:21.231-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I made my own fabric softener!</title><content type='html'>I haven't used it...yet.&amp;nbsp; Later tonight on the sheets I think I will.&amp;nbsp; I'm almost out of Downy and I can't stand the idea of paying $12 for laundry soap and fabric softener if I don't have to.&amp;nbsp; I followed &lt;a href="http://www.ehow.com/how_2331685_homemade-fabric-softener.html"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; recipe, adding just a little extra vinigar, as the baking soda didn't all disolve.&amp;nbsp; Let's see how this works.&amp;nbsp; If it works out well, I may have to try making my own laundry soap.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I was looking at &lt;a href="http://www.ehow.com/how_4406000_liquid-laundry-detergent.html"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; recipe for laundry soap, or maybe &lt;a href="http://www.thefamilyhomestead.com/laundrysoap.htm"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; one.&amp;nbsp; What do you think?&amp;nbsp; Have you ever made your own laundry soap or fabric softener?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5100625262080312447-951234899509781138?l=excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/feeds/951234899509781138/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5100625262080312447&amp;postID=951234899509781138&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/951234899509781138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/951234899509781138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-made-my-own-fabric-softener.html' title='I made my own fabric softener!'/><author><name>~Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03313730980584097656</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SnapWDBmd8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/RXqBb7kq6qk/S220/DSCF0968.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100625262080312447.post-830348230468978438</id><published>2010-01-05T20:58:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-05T21:00:53.232-06:00</updated><title type='text'>There Ain't No Rest for the Wicked....</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;Oh, Yes, getting off to a &lt;em&gt;fantastic&lt;/em&gt; start on those life goals.&amp;nbsp; Sitting here three hours and counting.&amp;nbsp; Although, this was at least useful, if not fruitful.&amp;nbsp; Job hunting.&amp;nbsp; Effing expreience required bullcrap.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;I've been thinking about what I would like to see in a perfect job.&amp;nbsp; Radio, although I love it, does not incorporate everything I really like.&amp;nbsp; (Like, ya know, a JOB right now.) So, lets take a look:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;(Before that, my cat just shook her head and it seriously sounded like marbles clacking together.&amp;nbsp; No joke.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;-Fast paced, but not stressfully so.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;-Challenging, but not overwhelmng.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;-Design of some sort.&amp;nbsp; I fall more and more in love with Adobe every day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;-Sign Language.&amp;nbsp; I did that for 3 years in High School and I adored it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;-Dressy Casual. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;-People I feel comfortable talking to and who take give me that "You're a weird crazy lady and I'm going to nod and smile until you go away" look.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;-Good management.&amp;nbsp; I'm not a leader type.&amp;nbsp; I don't like telling other people what to do.&amp;nbsp; Advice, yes.&amp;nbsp; Orders, no.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;-Copious amounts of down time in which to play internet games.&amp;nbsp; No, really, a little down time is good, but I hate being so bored that I resort to facebook as means of keeping my sanity.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;-Local.&amp;nbsp; I don't like driving.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;Know of anything that meets all of my oh-so-&lt;strike&gt;&lt;span style="color: #990000;"&gt;un&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strike&gt;reasonable criteria?&amp;nbsp; I will kiss your feet if you let me know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5100625262080312447-830348230468978438?l=excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/feeds/830348230468978438/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5100625262080312447&amp;postID=830348230468978438&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/830348230468978438'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/830348230468978438'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/2010/01/there-aint-no-rest-for-wicked.html' title='There Ain&apos;t No Rest for the Wicked....'/><author><name>~Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03313730980584097656</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SnapWDBmd8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/RXqBb7kq6qk/S220/DSCF0968.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100625262080312447.post-114773140549492765</id><published>2010-01-04T21:11:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-04T21:11:25.434-06:00</updated><title type='text'>New Year's Life Goals?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;It's 4 degrees outside.&amp;nbsp; It was -1 when I woke up this morning.&amp;nbsp; It's supposed to get down to -13 this week.&amp;nbsp; Seriously?!?!&amp;nbsp; Did I mention there is also about 8 or 10 inches of snow in some areas (I really don't know how much we've had, it's drifted)?&amp;nbsp; How about that J is in PA and I have to drive 21 miles to work every day, by myself, in sub-freezing temperatures?&amp;nbsp; Ya, I know, Wisconsin does it all the time, suck it up, buttercup.&amp;nbsp; I'm not used to this crap.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;I've been reading about a New Year's resolutions.&amp;nbsp; I don't do them.&amp;nbsp; But, it does get me to thinking about all of the areas in which I can improve my life.&amp;nbsp; Just a short list, off the top of my head:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;Get back in to shape.&amp;nbsp; &lt;span style="color: #f6b26b; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;(Seriously, I've gain about 30 lbs in the last five years and OMG I'm only a size 12 and I feel like a tub of lard! I don't care about being skinny, I just don't like being out of shape.)&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp; J and I are taking this on together.&amp;nbsp; Do you suppose alumni get a discount for memberships at the college gym?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;Eat healthier.&amp;nbsp; I've been doing better, but there is so much room for improvement.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;Improve my organization.&amp;nbsp; &lt;span style="color: #660000;"&gt;(Looks around house.&amp;nbsp; Hangs head in shame.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;Take the effin recycling out.&amp;nbsp; I keep it, but never take it anywhere!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;Spend wisely.&amp;nbsp; I would like to be out of debt before I die.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;Clean out the litter box more often.&amp;nbsp; So gross.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;Declutter.&amp;nbsp; This will be a toughy.&amp;nbsp; I hate to throw anything out and J likes knicknacks.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;Find a hairstyle I actually like.&amp;nbsp; &lt;span style="color: #a64d79;"&gt;(This one has been YEARS in the making.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;Be a risk taker, be outgoing, and make friends.&amp;nbsp; &lt;span style="color: #38761d;"&gt;(I so desperately need them.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;Spend less useless time on the internet and more time doing useful things, like researching things I'm interested in.&amp;nbsp; &lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;(Natural family planning, adoption, birth plans, budgeting plans, saving money, etc.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;Work on my forgiveness, and growing as a person.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;On second thought, maybe these are more like life goals.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5100625262080312447-114773140549492765?l=excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/feeds/114773140549492765/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5100625262080312447&amp;postID=114773140549492765&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/114773140549492765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/114773140549492765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/2010/01/new-years-life-goals.html' title='New Year&apos;s Life Goals?'/><author><name>~Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03313730980584097656</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SnapWDBmd8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/RXqBb7kq6qk/S220/DSCF0968.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100625262080312447.post-7167720310516655755</id><published>2009-12-26T01:24:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-26T01:24:44.976-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Merry Christmas to all.....and to all a good fright!  Bite!  Night!</title><content type='html'>Christmas was canceled this year.&amp;nbsp; Twice.&amp;nbsp; First my family, then J's.&amp;nbsp; Too much snow.&amp;nbsp; Bah!&amp;nbsp; No one wanted to drive.&amp;nbsp; So we loaded up and went to see my parents anyway then to see his.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stupid you say?&amp;nbsp; Possibly.&amp;nbsp; That or murder each other becuase he's stuck with a pissed off, PMSing wife cuz she missed Christmas.&amp;nbsp; I think that was really it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5100625262080312447-7167720310516655755?l=excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/feeds/7167720310516655755/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5100625262080312447&amp;postID=7167720310516655755&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/7167720310516655755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/7167720310516655755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/2009/12/merry-christmas-to-alland-to-all-good.html' title='Merry Christmas to all.....and to all a good fright!  Bite!  Night!'/><author><name>~Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03313730980584097656</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SnapWDBmd8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/RXqBb7kq6qk/S220/DSCF0968.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100625262080312447.post-2924341297913523495</id><published>2009-12-11T08:22:00.008-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-11T08:41:11.347-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Everything &amp; Nothing</title><content type='html'>J didn't have the flu. Well, the dr. still insists that he did (he never had a single flu symptom) but I really think he's just trying to cover his own ass. Instead, we were told that he's not processing his food right. He eats and it's just sitting there. So that, combined with a touch of IBS, and he's still not feeling great. The solution? Diet change. Less heavy food like pastas and breads, more veggies. (Gross.) Less prservatives, acids, caffine (pretty tough for the King of the Mountain....DEW) and meat and a lot more veggies. Smaller portions, which is tough. The boy is always hungry and smaller portions is making him cranky. So, less meat, less bread, less pasta....everything that I actually LIKE. Less coffe, pop, Kool-Aid (which I've been nagging about anyway. I can't stand when people are addicted to caffine and say they can't stand the "taste" of water....but I'm not judging and that's another blog completely)and more fruits and veggies. I'm not a fruit and veggie fan. I never have been. I was raised meat and potatoes and eat veggies sparingly to keep you regular. So, if anyone has any clever ways of disguising the things to make them appealing, please share.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Almost every female I know continues to be pregnant or having small babies. Even the ones I know shouldn't procreate and pass on the stupid gene. Yes, it's mean, but we all know I'm right. Anyway, it's really killin me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 year mark for J and I on Wednesday. We were hoping to go back to Vegas. Yeah, right. Instead we're going out to eat tonight. We're taking his mom with us. I have mixed feelings on this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boss is being a butt again. He says if Obama makes him pay for health care then about half of the employees are going to be laid off, permanently, so he can afford the health care. This is maddening for so many reasons. Mainly, to me, if he weren't busy pyaing for three houses and buying his wive $2,000 purses, he could afford to keep his business up to OSHA standards and pay his good employees enough to keep them around. GRRR.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still job hunting, obviously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's butt ass cold. It's been somewhere between 10 and 15 degrees all week. This does not look promising for the dress I was planning on wearing for said aniversary tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When J and I first started living together, THIS was his idea of cooking for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SyJYLqsQj3I/AAAAAAAAADA/mdRGPVkJGh4/s1600-h/042508_20172.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ps="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SyJYLqsQj3I/AAAAAAAAADA/mdRGPVkJGh4/s320/042508_20172.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Yes, that is a pink bunny Peep.&amp;nbsp; Yes, it is on fire, on a fork.&amp;nbsp; Yes, he is blowing out the pink bunny peep.&amp;nbsp; Yummy, roasted rabbit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, he fixed dinner.&amp;nbsp; Ok, so he made over my left over salmon and rice.&amp;nbsp; It was still good.&amp;nbsp; I don't have any pics, but I do have a pic of dessert:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SyJZou1DLZI/AAAAAAAAADI/AF6l8Vrh5No/s1600-h/DSCF3950+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ps="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SyJZou1DLZI/AAAAAAAAADI/AF6l8Vrh5No/s320/DSCF3950+-+Copy.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;A big improvement, huh?&amp;nbsp; Hot chocolate or Fireside Coffee, or whatever.&amp;nbsp; Coaco and instant coffee.&amp;nbsp; No, not whipped cream.&amp;nbsp; Skim milk that he shook and turned in to whipped cream.&amp;nbsp; I was very impressed.&amp;nbsp; He's taking to this eating better thing than I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5100625262080312447-2924341297913523495?l=excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/feeds/2924341297913523495/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5100625262080312447&amp;postID=2924341297913523495&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/2924341297913523495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/2924341297913523495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/2009/12/everything.html' title='Everything &amp; Nothing'/><author><name>~Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03313730980584097656</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SnapWDBmd8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/RXqBb7kq6qk/S220/DSCF0968.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SyJYLqsQj3I/AAAAAAAAADA/mdRGPVkJGh4/s72-c/042508_20172.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100625262080312447.post-2731023395011908305</id><published>2009-12-03T16:19:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-03T16:19:57.426-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm such a badass in my own mind....</title><content type='html'>....that I think I should totally be a song writer.  Check this Sensor-1 rendition of Jingle Bells:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dashing through the snow&lt;br /&gt;Trying not to be late&lt;br /&gt;Over the steps we jump&lt;br /&gt;Trying not to slide&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suppress a cough we must&lt;br /&gt;‘Cause we can’t stay home sick&lt;br /&gt;So here we are anyway&lt;br /&gt;Hoping the boss will get sick&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh jingle bells&lt;br /&gt;sensor-1 smells&lt;br /&gt;Ralph took a pill&lt;br /&gt;Maybe now we’ll all get a long&lt;br /&gt;And we won’t want to kill&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5100625262080312447-2731023395011908305?l=excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/feeds/2731023395011908305/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5100625262080312447&amp;postID=2731023395011908305&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/2731023395011908305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/2731023395011908305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/2009/12/im-such-badass-in-my-own-mind.html' title='I&apos;m such a badass in my own mind....'/><author><name>~Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03313730980584097656</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SnapWDBmd8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/RXqBb7kq6qk/S220/DSCF0968.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100625262080312447.post-93972725491282765</id><published>2009-11-25T13:12:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-25T15:12:55.008-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I really hate the not knowing...</title><content type='html'>Is it Swine Flu?  Appendix?  The regular flu?  Who knows!  Certainly not the doctor!  J is sick, his second day home from work.  I took him to the doctor Monday night (at his request, so I knew it was serious) they did the swife flu nose swab and took blood and told him they were almost certain it was swine flu.  Keep quarentined, blah blah blah.  The next day....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Negative.  Not swine flu.  We'll run more tests.  An hour later....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Negative.  Everything looks normal.  We don't know what's wrong.  It's probably the swine flu and just not showing up.  Go to the hospital if anything gets worse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eff you too pal.  We don't live in an area with an ambulance.  I'm at work today.  He's not THAT sick, but still, when you're told to head to the emergency room emmediatly if you stop coughing....I'm gonna worry.  Stupid doctors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Update on the job hunt: nada.  Over 35 applications.  One call back, a part time job at the Pomona library.  I wasn't chosen.  I think it was because I could only go in on Fridays and they wanted someone who could do a couple of hours each day.  I'm starting to get desperate.  Jordan says he has seriously bitten his tongue a few times not to quit.  I've bitten my tongue a few times not to tell my boss that if he would cut his pappered spoiled brat wife off that he would be able to pay his bills.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Best of all, when J has to pick something up for the boss and whatever store won't take the company credit card (which is shut off for non-payment) J uses his and we get a reimbursment check.  The last time the lady in the office gave us one she told us to make sure to CASH it and not deposit it so that if the check bounced it went back on the company and not us.  Great huh?  The check was for $73 dollars.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really makes me think NOW is the time for a new job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What am I thankful for?  A paycheck that doesn't bounce.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~Edit~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just realized that I overdrew my checking account for the first time in my life.  Too many checks before I got my paychecks deposited today.  I swore I would never live paycheck to paycheck.  What am I going to do?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5100625262080312447-93972725491282765?l=excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/feeds/93972725491282765/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5100625262080312447&amp;postID=93972725491282765&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/93972725491282765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/93972725491282765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-really-hate-not-knowing.html' title='I really hate the not knowing...'/><author><name>~Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03313730980584097656</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SnapWDBmd8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/RXqBb7kq6qk/S220/DSCF0968.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100625262080312447.post-702903941047624150</id><published>2009-11-06T14:56:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-06T15:04:11.400-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Advice?</title><content type='html'>Ok, so in the process of reading all of those money saving ideas and remodel ideas and other wish-I-could-do-it ideas on Yahoo and MSN I came across a few things that I would kind of be interested in using if they are legit and safe.  Since I don't know, I figured I would open it up to bloggy land...I trust your opinions a bit more than MSN Financial.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first place is &lt;a href="https://www.wesabe.com"&gt;Wasabe&lt;/a&gt;. Both Wasabe and a similar website, &lt;a href="http://www.mint.com"&gt;Mint&lt;/a&gt;, claim to be able to track your spending and basically be able to help you create your budget and offer money saving tips.  Since I have done REALLY badly at following a budget, I would kind of be interested in using these.  My hesitation lies in the fact that you are supposed to give them your bank/credit card/savings/ etc. numbers so that they can track your spending.  This doesn't really sound safe to me, but then again, I kind of tend to want to bury my money in the front yard in a coffee can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other two, &lt;a href="http://www.upromise.com/welcome"&gt;Upromise&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://www.gradgold.com/index.php"&gt;Grad Gold&lt;/a&gt;, claim to give you money for shopping.  For instance, shopping at Wal-mart is supposed to allow me to get 1% back into an account that will be paid into the student loans.  Yeah....so, this sounds great.  Especially because they will mail you a check and they don't have to be linked directly to your account.  But, free money always makes me suspicious.  Does anyone know anything about the validity of these?  I could probably talk to the financial aid guy from my college to see about Upromise and Grad Gold, and my bank about Wesabe and Mint, but I'm still looking for more opinions than "professional" ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, any takers?  Should I be suspicious or happy for these discoveries?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5100625262080312447-702903941047624150?l=excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/feeds/702903941047624150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5100625262080312447&amp;postID=702903941047624150&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/702903941047624150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/702903941047624150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/2009/11/advice.html' title='Advice?'/><author><name>~Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03313730980584097656</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SnapWDBmd8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/RXqBb7kq6qk/S220/DSCF0968.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100625262080312447.post-705974172629877319</id><published>2009-10-21T15:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-21T15:50:43.296-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Grouchy Grouchy Grouchy</title><content type='html'>So, do you ever read those wonderful money saving hints and tips that they put up  on yahoo news every once in a while?  For me, I always click on them, eager to see how I can save another penny or two, especially when money is tight.  What do I find?  Nothing.  Oh, they have tips.  Ones that are probably good for (I'm trying not to sound snobby here) rich city people who spend their money on $200 pairs of shoes, a latte every morning at Starbucks, and going out ot PF Changs or the Cheesecake Factory for lunch every day.  Hints like, "Take a brown bag lunch", "Drink tap water instead of bottled water", "skip your morning latte and drink regular coffee", "carpool", and other wonderful tips to help funnel your spending money into savings.  Some people are so spoiled and don't even realize it.  Of COURSE they can save money!  Live like I do, you'll be SHOVELING it in to your savings account!  (For clarification, we're a long way from poverty.  Between J and I, we live on about $56,000 per year, gross income.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, what if you don't do any of that in the first place?  Give me some more hints!  Ones that will work for someone who already takes lunch to work every day, not only cut out coffee but every other drink but tap water, doesn't have the luxury of carpooling most of the time, cannot FATHOM spending more than $100 on a pair of shoes on the best pair of shoes she owns and is STILL having trouble making ends meet?  Where are the tricks and tips for us?  I spent $22 on clothes the other day and felt REALLY BAD....even though I got two pairs of jeans and three tops that all looked AMAZING on me...for $22!  But I still can't believe that I spent so much!  Meanwhile, I read about women who go spend $250 on a new bikini and have to "break it to" their husbands, who tell them they deserve it.  WTF?!  I spent $30 on a new bikini and felt horribly indulgant.  (Now, I really need a new winter coat.  I have my eye on &lt;a href="http://www.overstock.com/Clothing-Shoes/JLo-Womens-Black-Long-Military-Wool-Coat/4015426/product.html"&gt;this one&lt;/a&gt;. I can't bare to spend the money, so I'll probably be wearing my mom's old one again this winter. I also love &lt;a href="http://www.overstock.com/Clothing-Shoes/J-Lo-Womens-3-4-length-Hooded-Wool-Coat/3994681/product.html?recommendation_id=c1b5527e-164b-4444-92c5-36788432ad47.1"&gt;this one&lt;/a&gt;.  See a trend?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are a few ways we could cut down.  J is a fan of motors.  Truck, Car, Jeep, Motorcycle....we could conceivably cut down to just one car.  That would save a heck of a lot and I know it.  But two of those are paid for and the bike is almost paid for.  Forget walking or biking anywhere. It's 10 miles to the nearest ANYTHING.  I could put up clotheslines and not run my dryer as much.  But where the heck am I supposed to come up with the money for the poles and lines?  I've already adjusted the thermostat - we sweat in the summer and shiver in the winter and fight the whole time.  We have cut eating out almost down to 1/3 of what we did.  Maybe once or twice a week, usually because we're out and about running errands in the city and it's not conceivable to drive an hour home for lunch and then back to the city again to finish our errands.  We don't get massages, I don't get my hair done by a "professional", no mani/pedi morning, no weekly trip to the theatre.  I have a cat.  I spend a little extra money on food and water for her.  She eats Friskies dry.  We do not eat crab and lobster and steak.  We eat a heck of a lot of hamburger, chicken, rice, veggies, etc.  My mom and I canned and froze until there was no room this summer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So tell me, how am I supposed to save money without completely depriving myself of EVERYTHING - car, an occasional meal out, etc?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHERE ARE THE FREAKIN MONEY SAVING TIPS FOR POOR PEOPLE????&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5100625262080312447-705974172629877319?l=excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/feeds/705974172629877319/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5100625262080312447&amp;postID=705974172629877319&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/705974172629877319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/705974172629877319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/2009/10/grouchy-grouchy-grouchy.html' title='Grouchy Grouchy Grouchy'/><author><name>~Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03313730980584097656</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SnapWDBmd8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/RXqBb7kq6qk/S220/DSCF0968.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100625262080312447.post-2014108660137753564</id><published>2009-10-13T21:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-13T21:55:57.154-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A long time in coming</title><content type='html'>This has been a long time in coming.  To one particular person, though I spare you any additional shame, though you may deserve it, by naming your name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am extremely angry with you.  I've worked for a while to be able to say that, calmly and without letting the hatred excapte from the core of my being.  I've prayed for help to ease the hurt that you've caused and it hasn't come yet.  Maybe I'm hanging on to it too tightly.  I know that it's a weakness of mine, hanging on to things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You tell me you're leaving because you can't bare to let us down any more than you have.  Every time I talk to you, you tell me that you'll pay me back as soon as you get the money, but then I found out that you were so irrisponsible as to get pregnant.  Not only that, but you were TRYING to get pregnant.  Given the fact that you and your husband are in trouble with the law for numerous things, he has no job, you don't have a car and you quit school so there's no chance of a better payhing job, I guess you purposefully decided to ignore your other responsiblities to me, the state, your parents and so on, and fulfill your own self-centered desires.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This wouldn't hurt me so much if it was just money.  Money is money.  I'm not so obsessed with it that I would be ready to destroy our friendship over money.  But you know that I don't want to have my own children until I can afford them....  and you always say that you don't want to raise your children on welfare.  So, what have you done?  You have not only chosen to betray yourself and your beliefs, but also effectually screw with my life and prevent my own descision for however long it takes me to pay off the bills that I would have payed off with the money you owe me.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Money I could forgive.  Your self-centered descision to have a child at what I see as being at my expense....that I'm not sure I can forgive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't stand who you've become.  I am struggling to not judge.  But to me, you are worthless.  As a friend, as a member of society, as a mother for bringing a child into the life you have created for it....worthless.  I know it's not my place to say that, and it's cruel, but I can't help my shortcomings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want so much to tell you these things, but part of me still values the freindship we once had, and knows that it's not my place to judge.  We all have to answer for our actions in the end.  You'll have to answer for what you have done, just as I will have to answer for my feelings and actions toward you.  I cac accept that, because I know my feelings are wrong.  But, can you accept the responsibility for your actions?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5100625262080312447-2014108660137753564?l=excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/feeds/2014108660137753564/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5100625262080312447&amp;postID=2014108660137753564&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/2014108660137753564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/2014108660137753564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/2009/10/long-time-in-coming.html' title='A long time in coming'/><author><name>~Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03313730980584097656</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SnapWDBmd8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/RXqBb7kq6qk/S220/DSCF0968.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100625262080312447.post-5164824827979465973</id><published>2009-09-22T09:34:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-22T09:35:28.019-05:00</updated><title type='text'>so...</title><content type='html'>I really miss having my friends to go shopping with.  My husband has decreed that Saturday, I belong to him.  Ok...I'm cool with that.  He won't tell me what he has in mind, just to have my nicest dress and shoes in a bag and ready to go Saturday morning.  Aside from the fact that that kind of makes it hard to do my hair or makeup in preparation, I'm pretty excited.  Only one problem.  All of my "nice" dresses are from highschool.  6 years and 30lbs ago.  Except one.  I have one LBD that has seen me through all of my "nice dress" occasions...including my wedding, almost a year ago.  (Short, sleevless, low cut.  Not really too suitable for the chilly weather we've been having.) So he said money be damned, basically, if I need a new dress to go and buy one.  Wonderful, right?  How many men tell their wife to feel free to go buy a new dress?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only one problem.  I have no one to go with.  My friends have all left.  I have a few "friends" (i.e. girls/women/ladies that I would like to call friends but they never really want to do anything with me.  We just chat once in a while.) but no one I really feel like I could go, "Hey lets go shopping after work!" to.  I'm not terribly outgoing and I haven't really made any friends at church either, or at work.  (My only friend that's nearby that I would be that comfortable with is a guy.  A litlte awkward since I'm married and...a guy, shopping, who isn't gay?  Yeah right.) So, I'm kind of Cloth Creek without a Stylist.  Does that really work?  Oh well, I guess it's up to me to figure this out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5100625262080312447-5164824827979465973?l=excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/feeds/5164824827979465973/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5100625262080312447&amp;postID=5164824827979465973&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/5164824827979465973'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/5164824827979465973'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/2009/09/so.html' title='so...'/><author><name>~Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03313730980584097656</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SnapWDBmd8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/RXqBb7kq6qk/S220/DSCF0968.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100625262080312447.post-8445905962765368047</id><published>2009-09-17T21:47:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-17T22:02:33.207-05:00</updated><title type='text'>This isn't Tool Time, and we're not Tim &amp; Jill Taylor, but we've deffinately got some Home Improvement goin on!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;So, last spring we bought a bunch of paint and one of those pretty butterfly flags when one of the local stores was having a moving sale, and said we were going to start doing house improvements.&amp;nbsp; Instead, it decorated by living room floor for MONTHS.&amp;nbsp; But, I am now happy to announce that our supplies have been put to their full potential.&amp;nbsp; J and I spent last Sunday doing improvements.&amp;nbsp; Take a look!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SrLy5ECISxI/AAAAAAAAABg/2zAKClqHrlI/s1600-h/DSCF3907.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="cssfloat: left; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" mq="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SrLy5ECISxI/AAAAAAAAABg/2zAKClqHrlI/s320/DSCF3907.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SrLy_bT9pTI/AAAAAAAAABo/NK3Y9jqnwYc/s1600-h/DSCF3906.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" mq="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SrLy_bT9pTI/AAAAAAAAABo/NK3Y9jqnwYc/s320/DSCF3906.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SrLzCphvM3I/AAAAAAAAABw/1Qa8iYWqf48/s1600-h/DSCF3908.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="cssfloat: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" mq="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SrLzCphvM3I/AAAAAAAAABw/1Qa8iYWqf48/s320/DSCF3908.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;So, the door wasn't necessarily a "home improvement" but when your house is silver/grey/offwhite and your door is white and your shutters are faded maroon.....well, I at least wanted to add some color.&amp;nbsp; So, a red door it is!&amp;nbsp; I LOVE it.&amp;nbsp; You can't even tell that the first coat looked hot pink.&amp;nbsp; lol.&amp;nbsp; And the faded maroon shutters?&amp;nbsp; The next step on the list.&amp;nbsp; Hopefully to match the door.&amp;nbsp; The mulch we bought after the paint and stuff of course, but that strip was too small to mow with our riding mower and J had had the neighbor kid mow it with their push mower, but we decided to prevent snakes, etc and just mulch it.&amp;nbsp; I think it looks pretty wesome.&amp;nbsp; Oh, and why would&amp;nbsp;we need a riding mower you may ask, when we live in town?&amp;nbsp; Cuz of my rockin' awesome front yard!&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SrL0ARzjcVI/AAAAAAAAACA/UoJUY4n_SmM/s1600-h/DSCF3909.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="cssfloat: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" mq="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SrL0ARzjcVI/AAAAAAAAACA/UoJUY4n_SmM/s320/DSCF3909.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;//a&gt;&lt;/ a=""&gt;&lt;//&gt;&lt;/ a=""&gt;&lt;//&gt;&lt;/&gt;&lt;//&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SrLz9DT2v6I/AAAAAAAAAB4/o45l3IP-MKw/s1600-h/DSCF3910.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="cssfloat: left; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" mq="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SrLz9DT2v6I/AAAAAAAAAB4/o45l3IP-MKw/s320/DSCF3910.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;And yes, we live in town, with our own miniature creek.&amp;nbsp; I'm deffinately a fan.&amp;nbsp; About as good as you can get, for having to live in town for now.&amp;nbsp; If I could make the housees around us disappear, to a mile or two away, I'd be in heaven!&amp;nbsp; (Not a city girl!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5100625262080312447-8445905962765368047?l=excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/feeds/8445905962765368047/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5100625262080312447&amp;postID=8445905962765368047&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/8445905962765368047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/8445905962765368047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/2009/09/this-isnt-took-time-and-were-not-tim.html' title='This isn&apos;t Tool Time, and we&apos;re not Tim &amp; Jill Taylor, but we&apos;ve deffinately got some Home Improvement goin on!'/><author><name>~Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03313730980584097656</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SnapWDBmd8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/RXqBb7kq6qk/S220/DSCF0968.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SrLy5ECISxI/AAAAAAAAABg/2zAKClqHrlI/s72-c/DSCF3907.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100625262080312447.post-8198770542839522147</id><published>2009-09-17T10:00:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-17T10:30:43.562-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So I'm not a very regular blogger, obviously.  I pondered deleting this as I have my other blogs because I don't think anyone really reads it and I almost never get a single comment.  But then I decided to keep it.  Why?  Because I don't scrapbook.  I'm terrible at remembering the camera and in 10 years I'll look back and love to read these.  So I'll keep going.  If I gain readers and commentors, great.  If not, oh well.  So, look for a series of blogs to catch you up with the last few weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, granted, I kind of have to comment on others' blogs to get readers I know, right?  Well, I keep coming across "Etiquite Blogs" about how to properly post a comment.  Excuse me?  I know my etiquite.  Be polite, don't mis-spell people's names, disagree respectfully and don't spam.  Don't even try to tell me how to format my comments.  That just makes you picky and you don't deserve comments, in my humble opinion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, fair warning, I usually blog long and full with much strong opinion, so it could be a lengthy read.  :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5100625262080312447-8198770542839522147?l=excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/feeds/8198770542839522147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5100625262080312447&amp;postID=8198770542839522147&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/8198770542839522147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/8198770542839522147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/2009/09/so-im-not-very-regular-blogger.html' title=''/><author><name>~Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03313730980584097656</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SnapWDBmd8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/RXqBb7kq6qk/S220/DSCF0968.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100625262080312447.post-9129638808654993284</id><published>2009-08-18T11:41:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-18T12:00:16.385-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Temptation Tuesday</title><content type='html'>So, in blog hopping, I've noticed cute little monikers such as "Not-Me Monday" "Wordless Wednesday" and others.  Well, I'm starting my own.  Ok, so maybe someone has already thought of it, but I don't know who it would be!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, here it goes: Temptation Tuesday.  We all have things that we are trying to accomplish - saving money, living debt free, losing weight, green living, kicking the internet addiction, etc. and with them comes the temptations.  Temptations are always easier to find with some support.  So my idea behind Temptation Tuesday is being able to find that support to fight your temptations.... sounds perfect, right?  We'll see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, for my Temptation Tuesday: &lt;a href="http://www.victoriassecret.com/"&gt;Victoria's Secret&lt;/a&gt;.  To be fair, I'd never paid attention to them before.  I thought they were just a bunch of overpriced panties.  Oh my lord did I learn!  I have two things there that I am seriously lusting for.  This wonderful little &lt;a href="http://www2.victoriassecret.com/collection/?cgname=OSCLOWRPZZZ&amp;amp;cgnbr=OSCLOWRPZZZ&amp;amp;rfnbr=6494"&gt;gem&lt;/a&gt; (my boss's wife has one; I seen her wear it once and loved it but had no idea where she got it) and this &lt;a href="http://www2.victoriassecret.com/collection/?cgname=OSCLODRSCVT&amp;amp;cgnbr=OSCLODRSCVT&amp;amp;rfnbr=6354"&gt;number&lt;/a&gt;, which I can't help buy try to justify with it's practicality.  These, along with countless other more minor desires, mostly this &lt;a href="http://www2.victoriassecret.com/commerce/onlineProductDisplay.vs?namespace=productDisplay&amp;amp;origin=onlineProductDisplay.jsp&amp;amp;event=display&amp;amp;prnbr=EC-181483&amp;amp;cgname=OSKEYCLOZZZ&amp;amp;rfnbr=4817&amp;amp;atp=a"&gt;sexy/demure top&lt;/a&gt; equals out to be my temptation for saving money and not buying things I don't need.  (I'm not evening &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;mentioning&lt;/span&gt; the shoes!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HELP ME!  I can't afford these!  Help me resist oh powerful budgeting ones!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5100625262080312447-9129638808654993284?l=excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/feeds/9129638808654993284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5100625262080312447&amp;postID=9129638808654993284&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/9129638808654993284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/9129638808654993284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/2009/08/temptation-tuesday.html' title='Temptation Tuesday'/><author><name>~Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03313730980584097656</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SnapWDBmd8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/RXqBb7kq6qk/S220/DSCF0968.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100625262080312447.post-1715627514481659877</id><published>2009-08-13T15:55:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-13T16:10:12.160-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Homeschooled...a trip down memory lane.</title><content type='html'>So, I was blog hopping and found some &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;homeschool&lt;/span&gt; blogs.  Oh what the memories....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So have I mentioned that I was &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;homeschooled&lt;/span&gt;?  Not in the way that a lot of the kids in my area were; that has-learning-&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;disabilities&lt;/span&gt;-school-gave-up-on-them-and-parents-pulled-them-out-to-roam-free-and-do-what-they-want-with-NO-education-whatsoever-because-they-weren't-dedicated-to-their-children way.  It more of a, the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;principal&lt;/span&gt; at our local elementary school was undergoing investigations for child abuse and my aunt had starter homeschooling HER kids because of it, situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And oh did we take the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;criticism&lt;/span&gt; for it.  I wasn't being properly socialized, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; ya know.  It wasn't that.  I had plenty of socialization if you ask me.  Story hour at the library, my friends when I went to my grandmas, Girl Scouts, etc.  I just disliked most of the kids my age.  They were all so....dumb.  And immature.  I had a few friends that I got along with and that was good enough for me.  But because I didn't have play dates and day care and 30 classmates, I wasn't socialized.  (I was also an only child.)  Oh well.  I think I'm doing &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt; now. (One of the only girls from my home town not to get pregnant at 14 and end up in an abusive relationship with her kids taken away.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We didn't &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;homeschool&lt;/span&gt; for religious reasons.  We started out using the Christian Liberty Academy &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;curriculum&lt;/span&gt;.  Oh how I hated that. Couldn't STAND the way they forced very conservative religious beliefs on students. (I am more conservative, but I don't think it should be forced onto a kid.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we dumped convention and I picked out my own books.  I loved being &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;homsechooled&lt;/span&gt;.  My &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;cousins&lt;/span&gt; (mostly) resent their mom for keeping them at home I think.  They barely finished high school because they wanted to be more "socialized" working and partying with friends...but I loved it.  Don't get me wrong, my mom and I had our moments.  Our screaming, yelling, crying moments of her threatening to send me to public school the next &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Monday&lt;/span&gt; and me begging not to have to go after I finished my tempter tantrum.  But, totally worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never really graduated from high school.  Since we created our own &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;curriculum&lt;/span&gt;, and it &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;wasn't&lt;/span&gt; accredited, no one would give me a diploma.  So, I have a GED.  No big deal.  The only difference it made was getting in to college.  (And now in the career world, it seems as if a Bachelors makes no difference.  You either need a GED or a Masters.  There is no middle ground for an Associates or Bachelors.  Sigh.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I don't think I really ever thanked my mom.  She gave up a lot to make sure I was kept in a &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_14" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;positive&lt;/span&gt; environment, where the principle wouldn't make me eat raw fish, where I learned to read and do long division (not to mention &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_15" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;calc&lt;/span&gt;.  UGH) and loving environment where I didn't get shunned for being too pale or not &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_16" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;having&lt;/span&gt; the right label on my clothes or called fat because I've never had the figure to pull off spandex leggings and mini-skirt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So thank you to my mom, and thank you to all the moms and dads out there that are homeschooling the right way, giving your kids the love, support and education that a public school may not be able to give them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5100625262080312447-1715627514481659877?l=excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/feeds/1715627514481659877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5100625262080312447&amp;postID=1715627514481659877&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/1715627514481659877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/1715627514481659877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/2009/08/homeschooleda-trip-down-memory-lane.html' title='Homeschooled...a trip down memory lane.'/><author><name>~Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03313730980584097656</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SnapWDBmd8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/RXqBb7kq6qk/S220/DSCF0968.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100625262080312447.post-511983171365840206</id><published>2009-08-11T08:39:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-11T08:46:35.263-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Migraines'/><title type='text'>ugh</title><content type='html'>Have I mentioned that I hate migraines?  I get them from time to time.  I could handle them fine, except I get the neasea with them.  So, hello violent vomiting at work all day!  That was yesterday though, and I feel better today, although my head still hurts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;J is in New York right now, for work of course.  This is his second week gone.  STill has another to go.  Supposed to be back aroud the 22nd or 23rd.  I'm not really sure if I can ever forgive my boss for taking almost an entire month away from my hubby and I.  I know other people have it a lot work, especially military wives, but it still sucks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I painted my address post Sunday.  It looks really nice.  The previous owners had it maroon and white, but now it's bright red and white.  I look like I murdered someone with all the paint on my hands that I can't get off, and all the paint in the grass by the driveway, but oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been helping my mom can salsa and green beans.  I went down last weekend to help, and I was going back this weekend to do more.  BUT, of course plans change.  One of my co-workers fell and busted an ankle yesterday.  If she can't come back in the rest of the week (and maybe some next week) then I might get the chance to work more.  I guess we'll see how it goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom and my aunt I guess decided to invade ME this weekend.  Supposedly doing a sleepover Saturday night.  Yeah...I'm not sure how this will turn out.  I guess my aunt and my grandmother are stealing my bed and my mom and i get the options of the couch, the recliner and the floor....have I mentioned I haven't really slept well since J left?  And it's a little awkward to have my grandmother sleeping in our bed.  Weirdness....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5100625262080312447-511983171365840206?l=excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/feeds/511983171365840206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5100625262080312447&amp;postID=511983171365840206&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/511983171365840206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/511983171365840206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/2009/08/ugh.html' title='ugh'/><author><name>~Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03313730980584097656</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SnapWDBmd8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/RXqBb7kq6qk/S220/DSCF0968.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100625262080312447.post-5110468391384193781</id><published>2009-07-19T17:41:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-19T18:05:59.896-05:00</updated><title type='text'>We learn to much in so little time</title><content type='html'>I remember in the last 4 years, worrying so much.  About failing a test, about pulling off an event with my clubs, about my car breaking down, or making sure a transition goes just &lt;em&gt;perfectly&lt;/em&gt; on the radio.  About making sure my laundry is done, feeding the cats, what I eat.....so many different things that seemed so BIG at the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not so much anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going through a crisis of faith.  I have been for the last several years.  I can't say that I believe in God, but I can't say that I don't either.  I have been wrestling and arguing about things for so long and I still have found no resolution.  Jordan guilted me into going to church with him.  I haven't gone in years; I haven't felt comfortable in church in so long.  And I'm still not comfortable.  I would come closest to calling myself Catholic, but just becuase I like the traditions.  The way they honor age old traditions.  I don't like modern music and practices in the church.  I would be ashamed of myself to wear pants to church.  Not something I was ever taught.  Just something I always felt in my heart.  And part of me says I shouldn't be so stuck in the past.  I should embrace change....but I can't.  I like predictiable traditions for their comfort.  It reminds me of simpler times and takes me away from the complications of today's world. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know.  I just don't know anything anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that I sat in church crying this morning because I wish I could have the comfort of the faith that everyone else has.  My husband tells me everything will be fine, but I simply cannot beleive it.  He stood up to be saved today and to be baptised next week.  And I honestly am very happy for him.  I have seen some of the thing's he's gone through the past few years.  I din't even know him when he went through the worst years of his life so far and I cannot imagine what it was like.  I'm so happy he's found peace and strength in his life.  I envy him that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I had the faith of those around me, especially now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got laid off.  It's no where nearly as bad as it could be.  I still have 20 hours per week, and I know they will come up in 2 -3 months.  But I have a habit of blowing problems out of proportion and I am so scared for what will come.  We have so many obligations - student loans, a mortgage, car payment and so on.  I'm trying very hard not to hold a grudge against my boss, but it's hard.  He's not mking wise descisions with his money.  He's says he's so worried about the families that work for him, but he's keeping his wife in a Porche (she doesn't work), remodeling their lake house and buying a third house that they have left sit to rot.  It's hard to think of him as sincere about his worrying about our family....when he said he was cutting my hours, I think he was truly concerned that we would be ok.  I just don't think he even realizes that he's sacrificing his business and those that work there for his extravagant life style.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would love to quit.  Stay at home, be a wife and mommy.  Jordan says he doesn't want kids and I think part of him doesn't.  But I watch him with the little kids and he's so good with them.  I know he would like to have one too.  He used to be so proud of being the "bad boy" and being weird and different.  Now he has a wife and a house, wants a dog and a kid....when he goes to see his old friends, they just don't quite click anymore.  Which I'm sorry for in a way, becuase I know he misses his friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But we're still young.  We have the time to pay our bills, start a family and have all that we want.  It's just hard to be patient and believe that that is possible.  One day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5100625262080312447-5110468391384193781?l=excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/feeds/5110468391384193781/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5100625262080312447&amp;postID=5110468391384193781&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/5110468391384193781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/5110468391384193781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/2009/07/we-learn-to-much-in-so-little-time.html' title='We learn to much in so little time'/><author><name>~Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03313730980584097656</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SnapWDBmd8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/RXqBb7kq6qk/S220/DSCF0968.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100625262080312447.post-4384946279838679370</id><published>2009-06-23T09:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-23T10:09:54.807-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Religion'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='strength'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='abuse'/><title type='text'>Religion</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;First, my typical disclaimer.....these are my opinions and my opinions only.  I do not mean to offend, but that may happen.  I'm sorry.  I try to be an equal opportunity offender.  These are meant to be facts in the way I see the world and I realize they may not be the way you see the world.  I would ask for the same as I give - respect for differing opinions.  I do not mean to intentionally "pick on" or leave anyone else out.  Usually, the instances I use are examples only.  Thank you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;So, I'm not a terribly religious person.  If you now me, the chances are you already know that.  I'm not a big believer in God or any other deity, although I do believe in something bigger and more powerful than I am.  But despite my lack of belief, I have respect.  I don't speak down against any deity or "god" or God.  I may speak down against the things you do for your deity, but not your deity.  I may not believe it, or agree with it, but I will try my best to respect it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;For instance, I may speak down against suicide bombers but I won't speak down against Allah.  It's not necessarily his fault.  Sure, the bombers say Allah commands them to cleans the world of infidels or something like that, but are we really sure they aren't misunderstanding?  We misunderstand each other all the time....what makes us think we can't misunderstand our chosen god?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Especially because Christians do so pretty wacked out stuff for their "God" too.  Spanish inquision anyone?  (I mostly identify with the Catholic faith, btw, if I were having to choose.)  I speak out against doing anything that physically harms another person.  I would say mentally, but then someone would use that "I just can't help it, my mind is so tortured by the fact that you believe differently than I do....I must make you believe the same as I do!"  Really....I'm touched that you care.  Now back off.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Anyway....How many times do we say "For the love of God, pick up your junk!" or something equally as pointless?  God does't care about if your toys or papers are picked up.  You may be walking a fine line about the "Obey thy father and mother" or "Honor they spouse" thing, but thats about it.  Better yet, lets go from the insinificant to the multitude.  How many wars ar fought for religion?  The majority of wars have been based on it in some way.  You can't tell me that any god or God wants us to kill each other in His/their name.  Because every religion claims their god is the most powerful.....if he was so powerful and wanted all of the disbelievers dead, he would kill them himself, especially after so many years of such complete dismal failure on everyone's part.  Or, he would just kill you for being such a failure.  Either way, he's doing work himself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Which finally leads me to my main point I guess.  If we do all of these nasty things in our God's name....and he doesn't really aprove of them after all....then aren't we essentially taking his name in vain?  And not just in the "God damn it" view, but in the we're-blaming-him-for-our-evil-actions-and-he's-gonna-be-PISSED view.  How can we get pissy over saying "God damn it"....it's basically a plea for God to punish that thing....when we're doing much worse under the premise that he wants us to?  I guess because in saying "God damn it", its like asking him to do his own dirty work and not hiding behidn the humans.... God wouldn't have the "free will" card to hide behind.  "I didn't ask them to do it....free will!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;So basically I guess what I'm saying is we all need to self-examine.  Do we really do things to honor our God?  To be faithful and live the life that he would want?  Or do we do things because we can't stand the idea of being wrong?  Because we're scared to face the consequences of our own chosen actions?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I guess that's why I'm not too much into religion.  For too many people, it seems to have become a hiding place....an excuse.  Not a faith.  The way I see it...I believe what I believe.  You can believe what you believe.  As long its not harming anyone...if I'm wrong and I go to hell, that's my business.  If you're wrong and you go to hell, that's your business.  No one can keep their noses out of someone else's business and that is a portion of what is wrong with this world today.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Now in retrospect, someone could say "but if we leave each other alone to believe whatever they want, then what's to stop the suicide bombers, etc from bombing everyone in the world??"  Well, that's where the "You believe what you want, I believe what I want" comes in.  If they were to have that view (the same view as me, irony right?) then they wouldn't be bombing everyone becuase they would just look at us "infidels" and go, "Oh well, they go to hell, who cares?  Not my problem" and walk away.  We all need to learn better when to walk away and when to fight.  Choose your battles.  A difference in religion should not be one of them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;(This message brought to you by the desire to yell at certain women that I know who's husbands have verbally abused them into changing everything about themselves and become submissive little whisps of their former selves because they are too insecure and prejudice to accept that woman for who she was.  So instead of accepting her for who she was and working out your problems and accepting your differences you've completely broken and brainwashed her and your children....way to go!  Bet you're real proud of yourself now.  Oh wait, you can't do that because you hate everyone who's not exactly like you and alienate anyone who might stand up to you!  Way to be a good, decent, upstanding man.  Not to mention being a strong mother for your children!  Way to just let that abuse happen instead of getting away from it and protecting you and your children from it.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5100625262080312447-4384946279838679370?l=excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/feeds/4384946279838679370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5100625262080312447&amp;postID=4384946279838679370&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/4384946279838679370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/4384946279838679370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/2009/06/religion.html' title='Religion'/><author><name>~Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03313730980584097656</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SnapWDBmd8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/RXqBb7kq6qk/S220/DSCF0968.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100625262080312447.post-6174790491908068004</id><published>2009-06-18T09:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-18T09:32:23.394-05:00</updated><title type='text'>WOW!  Man-Eater.....</title><content type='html'>So, I know it's been a while since I blogged.  Haven't really felt the need to.  Today I have two rants to go on about, but we'll stick with one since I AM at work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today I dressed up, wore some makeup that kind of thing.  Ntohing too elaborate, just a little bit.  My hubby said I looked really pretty and I started joking around a little with him and I was like, "Sure, but it would be better if my boobs were a couple of sizes bigger and my top button was undone so there was just a hint of cleavage huh?  (The blouse I'm wearing is a little on the baggy side.  It's for comfort and to look nice, not to hug curves.)  Anyway, he started laughing and was like, true, but I'm not complaining.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I got to work and was talking to one of my co-workers and related the conversation.  And she just gets this hateful look on her face and is all "Oh my god what a jackass!  I can't believe that, thats just mean and rude."  I'm looking at her like....WTF???  I'm like, "It doesn't bother me, I think it's funny."  She's replies in this snotty voice, "Well I guess you're just better than I am then."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Excuse me??  Now, all of us women know that men can suck.  You leave your wet towlel lay on the bed after a shower, you leave dishes laying around the house, hand us your dirty laundry and say "Yeah, I'm not sure what's on that.  I'd be careful."  Men suck sometimes.  I'm not being totally down on men, women pretty much suck sometimes too.  Case in point - my coworker.  She's is always down on men.  Like, BIG time.  I'm honestly not sure how her husband stands her.  IT's always fine for her to talk bad about him, make fun of him, etc. but never the other way around.  Even to the point of shooting him in the leg with a BB gun.  I honeslty feel sorry for her children.  She said that they were talking about ways of pulling practicle jokes one night.  I said man I'd be afraid of going to bed if I were you.  She goes, oh no, they know better than to do that to me.  Stever [her husband] woke up with three red toenails and shaving cream in his face though.  What does that say about you?  You run the house with an iron vagina, thats for sure.  I really feel sorry for her son.  He's getting old enough to realize that his mom hates his dad and anyone else with a penis.  Poor kid will probably be gay or have SERIOUS mom issues that leads him to be a serial killer or something. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But yet she acts like Jordan is this horrible person because he's honest.  When I'm on my period and moody and all, he'll just flat "You're on the rag aren't you?  Ok, I'll go away then."  I pretty much love it because I don't have to hint around or scream at him to go away.  But then my coworker acts like I'm this poor brainwashed abused wife because I "put up" with that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, what do you guys think?  Is my husband an asshole and I'm just too love stupid to realize it and I'm setting the feminist movement back about a century, or is she some man hating female praying mantis?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5100625262080312447-6174790491908068004?l=excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/feeds/6174790491908068004/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5100625262080312447&amp;postID=6174790491908068004&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/6174790491908068004'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/6174790491908068004'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/2009/06/wow-man-eater.html' title='WOW!  Man-Eater.....'/><author><name>~Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03313730980584097656</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SnapWDBmd8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/RXqBb7kq6qk/S220/DSCF0968.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100625262080312447.post-3794010012753149227</id><published>2009-04-27T22:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-27T22:39:21.155-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Financial Responsibility'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jobs'/><title type='text'>So...</title><content type='html'>....I'm officially job hunting.  Anywhere or anything without a 45 minute radius of Ottawa/Pomona.  (Within reason.  I draw the line at Wal-Mart or fast food.)  I just can't stand not being treated like a human being or given common respect anymore. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That and I'm honestly a little scared that one of these days, we just won't get paid because the boss is too busy indulging his lavish lifestyle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I am very much job hunting.  I would like to make at least $9 an hour.  I would like to make a little more if I have to drive very far, but I'll do what I have to.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5100625262080312447-3794010012753149227?l=excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/feeds/3794010012753149227/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5100625262080312447&amp;postID=3794010012753149227&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/3794010012753149227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/3794010012753149227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/2009/04/so.html' title='So...'/><author><name>~Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03313730980584097656</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SnapWDBmd8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/RXqBb7kq6qk/S220/DSCF0968.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100625262080312447.post-5828010968393049687</id><published>2009-03-26T21:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-26T21:40:05.360-05:00</updated><title type='text'>La De Da</title><content type='html'>So, tonight I am proud of myself.  A while back, Embarq pissed us off, and we called and told them to shove everything up their butt, except the internet, because we still need it for work.  Well, having picked up on the fact that we weren't too happy.....they sent us a free code for restaurant.com.  Oh yeah.  So, we went to eat tonight.  I'd only been once, and since they're at the country club now, I figured their prices had doubled.  Wrong!  I didn't think we'de have much trouble using that up, but we did.....in order to use that $25, we had to order $35 worth of food.  By the time we got tax on it and everything, it was $39 somthing...oh well, ya know?  For that, jordan had their smoked salmon dinner and I had their loaded baked potato and mac and cheese.  In addition, there is, sitting in the fridge right now, a bunt end dinner, a mequite chicken salad and an extra side of baked beans.  In addition, it was OU night at the potters wheel, and we each got $5 to spend there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pretty Sweet savings huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that was really long to get to this....I'm driving back, in the dark, in the rain...rolling into town...with my music blaring (from my one front passenger speaker that actually works in my ghetto-mobile), and what am I blaring?  Patsy Cline.  Oh yeah, Sweet Dreams.  How many 21 yr olds can say that one?  Pimpin' Patsy in my ghetto car.  lol  So, I was wondering, whats the best, "uncool" song you love?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now the thoughtful portion of our show....I was loading the dishwasher, when I had a mini-revelation.  I take our blessings for granted.  I hate doing dishes.  I mean, HATE.  I would rather clean the toilet than do dishes.  But I am blessed, because I have a working dishwasher.  And I was sitting there, loading my dishwasher, thinking how I hated having to handle the icky dishes to put them there, and I was horrified at myself.  not even a month ago, I was still washing those nasty things by hand every other night.  I hope I never become so spoiled that I forget what a blessing it is to have a dishwasher.  I don't ever want to be that spoiled and comfortable that I just get used to my life and take it for granted.  I think we all have problems with that though.  We get frustrated at inconvenience, but don't realize what a blessing that inconvenience is, or how thankful we should be for it.  It reminds me of a decorative plate my mom used to have hanging above her stove:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Thank God for dirty dishes.  They have a tale to tell.  For while others are going hungry, we are eating very well!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5100625262080312447-5828010968393049687?l=excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/feeds/5828010968393049687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5100625262080312447&amp;postID=5828010968393049687&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/5828010968393049687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/5828010968393049687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/2009/03/la-de-da.html' title='La De Da'/><author><name>~Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03313730980584097656</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SnapWDBmd8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/RXqBb7kq6qk/S220/DSCF0968.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100625262080312447.post-7252700951767777656</id><published>2009-03-19T21:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T21:22:36.212-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Duty</title><content type='html'>How much in our lives do we do because of the sense of duty?  I do dishes, make dinner and watch action movies most days out of a sense of duty.  Granted, on a certain level, I enjoy all of that occasionally. (Action movies more often, I like them.  Just...a chick flick once in a while is too much to ask without a temper tantrum?)  But what do we do, just because of duty?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I go to work to a job I dislike intensely because I have a duty to pay my bills.  (And I like having internet &amp;amp; electricity.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I see my husband's friends out of duty, to respect him, and because a couple of them are really nice.  The rest is purely because I love my husband.  Or I would openly loathe a couple of the guys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I attend funerals out of duty.  I hate them...they are rarely to actuallly honor and remember the dead.  It's a show to the public that you cared about that person so that you are thought well of.  Its rarely for the family.  I've been though it enough to know that family would rather forget about a funeral.  They do it out of duty to the "public."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I swallow my pride out of duty.  How many times am I going to be told, "I just don't think you realize how much I do for you," before I come unglued about how I GAVE UP MY JOB and took a JOB I HATE because he wanted me to?  Hmmmm?  But no, I swallow my pride and don't start THAT fight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can you tell it's been one of those nights?  *shoots and evil glare at the office*  If I could put a bullet through the speakers and through Nickelback right now, I totally would.  (Side of a Bullet is playing....WAY too loudly...just to provide some background on that one.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong, life is pretty dang good all in all....but there has been way too much testosterone lately.  The only part of my job I enjoy is that I work with a couple of very nice ladies.  Unfortuneately, I don't have much in common with either of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, I officially graduate in May....with a degreen in Communications....emphasis in Radio Broadcasting and Public Relations.  Did you know that included web development???  Neither did I.  In any case, you should check out the &lt;a href="http://www.sensor-1.com/"&gt;center of my work existance &lt;/a&gt;lately.  Not that anyone appreciates that either.  So far, I get "I hate this" "Why do we have to do this, I don't want to have to learn anything know" and "this needs to be changed."  So, let me know what you think.  Constructive criticisms please.  Don't just automatically hate it because you disapprove of my employment for that company or because you have an innate fear of change.  Also keep in mind that it's a template...I'm limited in my creativity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, I feel better now.  At any rate, I desperately need a girl's night.  I'm drowning in testosterone.  I usually get along better with guys actually.....but sometimes I just need my girls.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5100625262080312447-7252700951767777656?l=excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/feeds/7252700951767777656/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5100625262080312447&amp;postID=7252700951767777656&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/7252700951767777656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/7252700951767777656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/2009/03/duty.html' title='Duty'/><author><name>~Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03313730980584097656</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SnapWDBmd8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/RXqBb7kq6qk/S220/DSCF0968.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100625262080312447.post-3028965297672747531</id><published>2009-03-03T13:19:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-03T13:19:29.898-06:00</updated><title type='text'>hm</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;It's been forever since I've read this magazine, but let's see if the free stuff is worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript" src="http://widgets.clearspring.com/o/478bba0c785cddb2/49ad82bfc527f1e6/478fbf67ede15139/963f4de4/widget.js"&gt;&lt;/script&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5100625262080312447-3028965297672747531?l=excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/feeds/3028965297672747531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5100625262080312447&amp;postID=3028965297672747531&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/3028965297672747531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/3028965297672747531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/2009/03/hm.html' title='hm'/><author><name>~Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03313730980584097656</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SnapWDBmd8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/RXqBb7kq6qk/S220/DSCF0968.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100625262080312447.post-1608741899306286568</id><published>2009-02-02T06:55:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-02T06:56:44.565-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Crazy</title><content type='html'>My hubby is leaving today for Iowa.  Will be gone until Friday sometime.  Hmmm...ideas.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5100625262080312447-1608741899306286568?l=excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/feeds/1608741899306286568/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5100625262080312447&amp;postID=1608741899306286568&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/1608741899306286568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/1608741899306286568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/2009/02/crazy.html' title='Crazy'/><author><name>~Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03313730980584097656</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SnapWDBmd8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/RXqBb7kq6qk/S220/DSCF0968.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100625262080312447.post-8954153013899460375</id><published>2009-01-30T11:58:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-30T12:03:57.734-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Mistake</title><content type='html'>I hate working here.  I should have listened to my better judgement and not just started working here because I needed the money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate working with my boss.&lt;br /&gt;I hate working with my husband.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only thing that I like is the paycheck and that's not even worth it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5100625262080312447-8954153013899460375?l=excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/feeds/8954153013899460375/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5100625262080312447&amp;postID=8954153013899460375&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/8954153013899460375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/8954153013899460375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/2009/01/mistake.html' title='Mistake'/><author><name>~Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03313730980584097656</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SnapWDBmd8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/RXqBb7kq6qk/S220/DSCF0968.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100625262080312447.post-5474371026335481018</id><published>2009-01-28T14:36:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-28T14:37:38.900-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Bah-Humbug!</title><content type='html'>Today sucks.  I have no idea why, it just does.  Even chocolate hasn't helped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I keep almost crying at work for no good reason.  I just hate today.  Sigh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5100625262080312447-5474371026335481018?l=excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/feeds/5474371026335481018/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5100625262080312447&amp;postID=5474371026335481018&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/5474371026335481018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/5474371026335481018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/2009/01/bah-humbug.html' title='Bah-Humbug!'/><author><name>~Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03313730980584097656</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SnapWDBmd8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/RXqBb7kq6qk/S220/DSCF0968.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100625262080312447.post-497568514357195463</id><published>2009-01-24T10:49:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-24T11:27:24.780-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rituals'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dancing'/><title type='text'>Rest Room Rumba</title><content type='html'>So while walking around the farm show in St. Joseph Missouri, I thought a blog about a certain timeless, classic dance was in order.  It tends to be a ladies' only dance, one that the male sex of the species could never appreciate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It begins at a line dance.  You move to your position in line, smile politely and nod to the person in front of you to let them know that you recognize your position in this dance, and you begin the first step of the dance - shift from foot to foot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the ladies in the line move forward, you bide your time, continuing to shift from foot to foot, demonstrating your anticipation to participate in this honored ritual.  As you can, you step forward.  Your steps form a pattern - shift shift shift shift forward.  shift shift shift shift forward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soon you've worked  your way forward and you reach the beginning of the line.  Now it is time to begin the variation to your dance.  Your patience has it's rewards - it is now your time to step forward and enter one of the holy rooms.  You approach cautiously, still maintaining your pattern, but in a quickened fashion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stop and peer cautiously around the edge of the door and peer into the holy room.  Check for any foulness or otherwise unholy material that might foul your experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once you have deemed the room worthy of holding your experiences, enter the room and shut the door behind you, so that it might be a private ritual. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I won't go into the exact process of the ritual.  It's a personal experience that must be performed as you feel the urge to do so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When finished with your ritual, clear it of any unholy materials that may have appeared and exit the room.  Move past the line of ladies so that the next lady in line may do her own version of the Rest Room Rumba and have her own personal ritual.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5100625262080312447-497568514357195463?l=excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/feeds/497568514357195463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5100625262080312447&amp;postID=497568514357195463&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/497568514357195463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/497568514357195463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/2009/01/rest-room-rumba.html' title='Rest Room Rumba'/><author><name>~Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03313730980584097656</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SnapWDBmd8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/RXqBb7kq6qk/S220/DSCF0968.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100625262080312447.post-2653255656263242883</id><published>2009-01-23T18:57:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-23T21:31:21.997-06:00</updated><title type='text'>More...</title><content type='html'>On a seperate note.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got another award!  Thanks to &lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/08478671585851158739"&gt;Dalton's Mommy&lt;/a&gt; for the Honest Scrap Award! Here's how it works...The wonderful people are to:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A) first list 10 honest things about yourself - and make it interesting, even if you have to dig deep!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;B) Pass the award on to 7 bloggers that you feel embody the spiritof the Honest Scrap. (This I can't do, since the only person I have here is the one who nominated me. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay...&lt;br /&gt;I can't stand to have the movies or video games messed up...they have to be alphabetized.&lt;br /&gt;I hate doing dishes.  I would rather clean the toilet than do dishes.&lt;br /&gt;My fingernails curl.  I don't keep them very long, but they curve down over my fingers.&lt;br /&gt;I've always wanted to be a figure skater.  Sequened skirts and all.  I'm just too lazy.&lt;br /&gt;I'm terrified of grasshoppers.  The only insenct that I really am scared of.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not that fond of steak.  I like it and all....but I'd usually rather have chicken.&lt;br /&gt;I sleep better without my husband in the bed.  He tosses and turns a lot and keeps me awake.  (I love him anyway.)&lt;br /&gt;I don't like extras in my brownies.  No nuts, no caramel or chocolate chips or anything.  Plain, simple, half raw brownie.&lt;br /&gt;I used to love spicy stuff and now, even mild is osmetimes a little warmer than i want, which sucks with a husband who adds curry to his salad.&lt;br /&gt;I really like chick flicks, but fantasy action is my fave...for instance, I'm really bummed that I don't get to see the new Underworld movie tonight. :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright, I think that covers it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5100625262080312447-2653255656263242883?l=excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/feeds/2653255656263242883/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5100625262080312447&amp;postID=2653255656263242883&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/2653255656263242883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/2653255656263242883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/2009/01/more.html' title='More...'/><author><name>~Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03313730980584097656</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SnapWDBmd8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/RXqBb7kq6qk/S220/DSCF0968.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100625262080312447.post-2419559201671138255</id><published>2009-01-23T18:28:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-23T18:59:36.335-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Wal-Mart = Death of Savings</title><content type='html'>So....I'm all alllooooooone and there's no one here to love me....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am spending the evening alone. J is at a farm show is St. Jo Missouri. My friends were all busy. So I'm blogging. Whoopeeeeee......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I stopped by walmart on my way home. My shopping list:&lt;br /&gt;cerial&lt;br /&gt;milk&lt;br /&gt;sliced cheese&lt;br /&gt;flash drive&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What did I come home with?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 boxes of cerial&lt;br /&gt;1 box of granola bars&lt;br /&gt;a block of sliced cheese&lt;br /&gt;a gallon of milk&lt;br /&gt;a $5 flash drive&lt;br /&gt;fat free powdered creamer&lt;br /&gt;a bra&lt;br /&gt;cat food&lt;br /&gt;sweet and sour chicken (it was my compromise to eating out)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I needed everything on there...exccept maybe the sweet and sour chicken. What did this total? $58.89&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate walmart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was looking at a $30 coat (formerly $50) too but I decided I was spending enough.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5100625262080312447-2419559201671138255?l=excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/feeds/2419559201671138255/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5100625262080312447&amp;postID=2419559201671138255&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/2419559201671138255'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/2419559201671138255'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/2009/01/wal.html' title='Wal-Mart = Death of Savings'/><author><name>~Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03313730980584097656</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SnapWDBmd8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/RXqBb7kq6qk/S220/DSCF0968.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100625262080312447.post-27060264948208298</id><published>2009-01-18T06:11:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-18T06:20:43.861-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blessings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='comaplaints'/><title type='text'>Counting my Blessings</title><content type='html'>Ok, so I grudgingly admit it.  I miss school.  In my over-dramatizing brain, I remember the days of yore and wonderful days full of friends and fun, very little work, terrible food, and I didn't fall asleep at 830 at night, annoying my husband.  It seems so long ago that I barely did any homework and played frisbee in the rain at 2am, spent my weekends at home with my dog and counted down the days to a no-school-day with avid anticipation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I don't really ever see any of my friends, I work all the time, the food is semi-good because when I want to cook it tastes fantastic but when I don't want to but have to it tastes as bad as the caf did, I fall asleep at 830 which annoys my husband, I don't get to go home much and when I do I don't get to see my dog at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my dissatisfied mind says.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In reality, I know that living in the dorms sucked.  I still didn't have many friends....you just kind of force it sometimes because you live so close together.  I like work better than school because I'm doing much of the same work but 1. I'm getting paid to do it instead of paying others for me to do it and 2. There is a point to the work and it is useful.  I know my cooking is still better and healthier than that damned slop that they called healthy.  I didn't sleep because I never felt safe and now when I go to sleep I get to cuddle up to a very warm body that I love very much instead of a cold wall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still don't get to go home much, but that's okay because as much as I love and miss my mother, I like myself better when she doesn't dictate my entire life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for playing frisbee in the rain?  Well, I never did that when it was cold anyway.  We'll see what happens this summer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really am a lucky girl.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5100625262080312447-27060264948208298?l=excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/feeds/27060264948208298/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5100625262080312447&amp;postID=27060264948208298&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/27060264948208298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/27060264948208298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/2009/01/counting-my-blessings.html' title='Counting my Blessings'/><author><name>~Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03313730980584097656</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SnapWDBmd8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/RXqBb7kq6qk/S220/DSCF0968.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100625262080312447.post-8526792054319614964</id><published>2009-01-14T19:06:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-14T19:17:26.341-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='motorcycles'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ramps'/><title type='text'>the shadow of a rebel</title><content type='html'>Ok, so I said pictures of the new toy.  Well, I can't take pictures until we get it out of the truck.  Can't get it out of the truck until we get ramps of some sort.....which are at least $100.  *sigh*  Life is expensive, and I'm like Scrooge, hoarding my money.  On everything except clothing of course.  Dang it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uwe9999/3127078636/"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; is basically our bike, only ours came with saddle bags.  Ours has the sissy bar, thank GOD!  We also have a little Rebel, without sissy bar, and that thing hurts my butt like you wouldn't believe.  No pics of the Rebel either, but &lt;a href="http://i47.photobucket.com/albums/f187/jmisenas/DSC01460.jpg"&gt;thi&lt;/a&gt;s is basically it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I would have said trade in the Rebel.  We got an amazing deal on the Shadow, even I admit that, but hey, take off extra money right?  Apparently not.  In J's perfect world, I'm getting my motorcycle licence in april, so the Rebel will be mine to ride.....as if I'm really going to be riding without him....and if I am, my butt will be planted on the Shadow. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, none of that can happen until we get it out of the truck.....baby steps, right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5100625262080312447-8526792054319614964?l=excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/feeds/8526792054319614964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5100625262080312447&amp;postID=8526792054319614964&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/8526792054319614964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/8526792054319614964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/2009/01/shadow-of-rebel.html' title='the shadow of a rebel'/><author><name>~Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03313730980584097656</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SnapWDBmd8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/RXqBb7kq6qk/S220/DSCF0968.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100625262080312447.post-5974490646930783433</id><published>2009-01-13T20:07:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-13T20:27:03.691-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Whew</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;So, it's been a couple of weeks since I posted. I'm down to working every other Sunday for KOFO, which makes me kind of sad, but I've been too busy to think about it much. I spent last weekend cleaning - as in, I cleaned out the dining room, redid the litter box, did laundry, did dishes, re-organized a couple of my cabinets and picked up the living room and vaccuumed. Not much when you figure that I still need to mop, clean both bathrooms, take out the recycling, finish staining the deck and a few other things I'm sure I'm forgetting.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290968562667580450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 195px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SW1L3_-PbCI/AAAAAAAAAAo/1tZmluKXLYI/s320/lemonadeaward.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, I've only made one blog, and I'm already been nominated for an award!  Its the lemonaide award, passed on from &lt;a href="http://beingamommyandwifeiswhyimalive.blogspot.com/"&gt;Tiffany&lt;/a&gt;.  It's for people who have a positive outlook on life no matter what the circumstance.  I'm not sure this is always accurate, but I try my best.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The rules of this award for recipients:1. Put the logo on your blog or post.2. Nominate at least 10 blogs which show great Attitude and/or Gratitude.3. Be sure to link to your nominees within your post.4. Let them know that they have received this award by commenting on their blog.5. Share the love and link to this post and to the person from whom you received your award.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Unfortunately, I don't of anyone else I can nominate, so I don't quite fit the rules.  Oh well, it's not like I ever do.  :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, J and I got a new toy.  More J got a new toy, but I'm staying positive and I'm determined to enjoy it too.  More, hopefully with pictures, tomorrow.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, the new job is going good, but it feels weird not to be going back to school tomorrow with everyone else.  I don't really miss it, but it feels really like I'm forgetting something.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Until next time......frizz ease from John Freida is a miracle product.  Try it, then let me know what you think. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5100625262080312447-5974490646930783433?l=excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/feeds/5974490646930783433/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5100625262080312447&amp;postID=5974490646930783433&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/5974490646930783433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/5974490646930783433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/2009/01/whew.html' title='Whew'/><author><name>~Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03313730980584097656</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SnapWDBmd8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/RXqBb7kq6qk/S220/DSCF0968.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SW1L3_-PbCI/AAAAAAAAAAo/1tZmluKXLYI/s72-c/lemonadeaward.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5100625262080312447.post-9016096332265364497</id><published>2009-01-02T07:31:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-02T08:14:23.436-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Myself'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='New Years'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jobs'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Hello!  So, after about a 3 year &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;absense&lt;/span&gt; from blogging, a friend/coworker kind of inspired me to start again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;So, first a little about me.  I am K.  A very recent college graduate, and even more recent newly wed.  J and I have been married about two and a half weeks, even though we've been together for a year and a half now.  We don't have any kids yet, thank goodness, unless you count two fat, spoiled cats.  It's not that I don't want kids.  I really do.  But we're &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;definitely&lt;/span&gt; not ready for them yet.  We'll get to more of that later.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;I mentioned that I was a recent college graduate.  That is of about three weeks.  I went to college to be in broadcast communications, mostly radio.  I never had any desire to be in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;TV&lt;/span&gt;.  My freshman year, I started volunteering at the local radio station to kind of help learn the ropes, give me an edge, and hopefully lead to a job.  Well, it did.  Eventually, I worked part time, one or two days a week, filling in at other times if needed.  I started working more and more often, and eventually, here a few months ago, it led to the job I had been working for for three years.  Couldn't be happier right?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Well, with our wonderful government and &lt;em&gt;perfect&lt;/em&gt; economy, this job wasn't as many hours as it used to be and would not pay my bills, even with J's job, which pays him pretty decently for this area and time.  So I started looking for other jobs, half &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;heartedly&lt;/span&gt;, because honestly I've been working for this for three years, I want to stay here!  J has been pushing me to work for his company for quite a while.  Helping him with sales, or whatever needs to be done, pretty much.  Well, they made this big deal and need a new employee to help deal with this new company.  So they offer me a job as their Marketing Manager.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;What can I say?  On one hand, I have a job that I'm not &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;guaranteed&lt;/span&gt; 40 hours per week.  If I make it, I'll be working basically 7 days a week, at random hours from 430 or 5am to sometimes 10 or 11 at night.  Not solidly of course, but any hours in between.  On the other hand, I have a job offer of a regular 9-5, 40 hours per week &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;guaranteed&lt;/span&gt;, unless I request time off or it's a holiday.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;I took the job.  And I regret it.  I swore form the time I was 14 and started working that I would never work someplace just for money.  I would do what I liked, not what I had to unless it meant starving.  So now I'm stuck right?  I have to just make the best of what I've gotten myself into.  I hated working at the radio station too when I first started, so I'm trying to give myself an adjustment period to get used to it.  Just like I've had to do with every other job I've had.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;So this is a long post, right?  Yeah, that happens a lot.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;So Happy New Year!  Sorta.  I've never made resolutions before, but I heard that you shouldn't make your resolutions till Jan. 2, or you'll never keep them, so I have a few now here.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Keep my house cleaner.  J didn't have the best time growing up and can't stand a dirty house.  I don't mind clutter, but I can't stand much dirt either.  So now that I'm not working and in school full time, I should be able to keep that more.  Most &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;notably&lt;/span&gt;, this includes doing dishes.  It is the one thing J and I both hate the most and therefore, they don't get done.  So, in keeping my house cleaner, I will also do my dishes before they start growing and having babies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Keep in shape.  I'm not fat, but I'm flabby and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; back to losing my breath as fast as ever, so I really need to whip my ample ass into shape again.  I want to lead an active life, not waste my time in front of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;TV&lt;/span&gt; and computer.  *uncomfortable squirm*  well, not all my time anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Cook more, and make it healthy.  When I moved off campus, I swore I would cook more.  I did, but when I started working more and didn't get home till about 7p, I didn't really want to cook much.  But I should have more than enough time now, and this in theory should help with resolution number 2.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Save money.  Even with two incomes that pay fairly decently, we have a lot of bills, what with a house payment and several school loans to pay.  Plus, J likes things that go &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;vroom&lt;/span&gt;, so there are truck repairs, car upgrades, and a new motorcycle on the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;wish list&lt;/span&gt;.  I clip coupons like a fanatic anyway, but I'm not very good at planning my shopping or my meals, and that's something I can improve upon quite a bit.  Note to self: buying less clothing for myself would also help with this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Fifth and finally, not to be such a hermit.  I've never been very outgoing or easy to make friends, but since all of my close friends have left and live several hours away, I really need to be more....friendly....I guess.  J is gone a lot sometimes for work and when he's gone, I have two cats to keep me company and that's really it.  I need to change that PDQ.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;So this is my first blog.  We'll get to more about me, my new job, my kids...I mean cats, J and whatever else is bothering me.  For now, goodbye blogging world, hello world of I-Want-To-Keep-My-Resolutions.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5100625262080312447-9016096332265364497?l=excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/feeds/9016096332265364497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5100625262080312447&amp;postID=9016096332265364497&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/9016096332265364497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5100625262080312447/posts/default/9016096332265364497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://excerptsfromthemindofacrazedov.blogspot.com/2009/01/hello-so-after-about-3-year-absense.html' title=''/><author><name>~Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03313730980584097656</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wvVjPiWe-JM/SnapWDBmd8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/RXqBb7kq6qk/S220/DSCF0968.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
