<?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-9153218611301574631</id><updated>2011-07-29T01:03:05.315-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Seasonal Allergies</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>46</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-5563514406434624103</id><published>2008-06-02T16:08:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-06-02T16:08:44.223-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Cami</title><content type='html'>I’ll never forget the first night Cami was with us.  Her case manager brought her to the house, and she was bawling.  She DID NOT want to live in Nampa!  She was angry to be moved to a home so far from her friends, and I found out years later, that when she heard we had a baby in the house she was even more upset.  They brought her piles and piles of stuff into our living room, it was late evening, and she looked so vulnerable.  I felt an instant connection with her.  I went to Wal-Mart to get her some towels of her own and a few other things she would need, and I picked up a card with Piglet on it because she’d mentioned liking pigs.  When I got home and gave her the card she cried some more and told me she loved Piglet.&lt;br /&gt;            She started school two days later at the high school, and she was scared.  In Boise she’d been in Junior High, but our ninth grade is in High School, so this was an even greater change for her.  She told me she wasn’t going to bother making any friends because she already had enough friends at her old school and she didn’t need any more.  I told her I bet she’d make at least seven friends on her first day.  It was funny because she was so determined to be mad and hate living here.  She got home from school and very reluctantly told me that she’d made exactly seven friends. &lt;br /&gt;            The first few weeks she tried real hard not to like anyone in the house.  But one day, she was passing by when I was playing with Will, who was not even a year old yet, and she tickled him.  He laughed his oh so irresistible laugh, and it was all over.  She melted right before my eyes.  From that moment on, they were bonded for life.  To this day, if he gets mad at me all he wants to do is call Cami, and Will is one of the first people she asks about when she calls.  She would play with him for hours, carry him around like he was hers, blows bubbles with him, bathe him, feed him, dress him, she wouldn’t let the other kids touch him.&lt;br /&gt;            She also started to feel a connection with me.  You could tell because she sought me out to talk to about everything and nothing.  She started calling me “mom” by her second week with me.  Her aunt told me she had never called anyone else mom that fast, and there was only one other foster mom she’d used that name for.  I was honored.  I didn’t really know what I’d done to make her feel that way she did, I treated her like I did all my other kids.  She told me, again years later, that I never acted like this was a job, but that all my kids really were my family and that made a difference to her.  She’d felt like all her other homes treated foster care like a job.&lt;br /&gt;            But we weren’t without problems.  She got in trouble at school, skipping classes, and then smoking marijuana.  I left for a week one time to go to a foster care conference in Florida and spent most of that week on the phone with the babysitter discussing the trouble Cami and my oldest daughter were getting into constantly while I was gone.  She caused a lot of trouble at home, fighting with the other kids, alienating them.  She dated boys who were in trouble at school and sometimes even with the law.  She lied constantly about where she was going, what she was doing.  She tried to manipulate everyone she came in contact with.&lt;br /&gt;But I never let up on her.  I gave her consequences for everything she did, and I loved her more and more as the days went by.  I’d always let her know how I felt about the things she was doing, and as I seem to do, tell her how things would turn out if she continued certain behaviors.  I’m not always right about things, in fact, I often predict wrongly, but somehow, with her, I was able to predict outcomes pretty well.  She hated it; telling me that I was always right and she should start listening to me but didn’t want to.&lt;br /&gt;            She fought back every time I enforced boundaries and rules with her.  She kept increasing her behavior testing my limits. She told me she thought my rules were unfair, and that I should change them.  But I never backed down with her, never wanted to give up.  I don’t think she knew how to handle that, she was so used to people having her removed from their homes because of her behavior, and I just kept hanging on.  One time we got another girl in the house about her age and she had a fit, crying and saying mean things.  I couldn’t understand the problem since she’d been so bent on hating it here and not wanting to be part of our family, and when I finally got through her protective shell, she told me she didn’t want this girl to take me away from her.  She couldn’t understand how I could share my love with more than one person.  She also couldn’t understand how I could keep letting kids into my home and heart after some of the things other kids had said and done to me.  She told me if I took this girl in she would know this was only a job to me.  I didn’t let her manipulate me.  I told what I always told her, this was never a job to me, and I CAN love lots of people at the same time.  She said she didn’t believe me.  What came in the next months was sort of shocking.&lt;br /&gt;            She said she wanted me to adopt her; she wanted to be a permanent part of the family.  She’d been with us only about six months.  I wanted to say yes, but told her I wanted her to ask me again after she’d been with us for a year.  I wanted her to be sure she wanted it before we got into the process.  She must have marked her calendar, because at the one-year anniversary of her coming to our home, she asked again.&lt;br /&gt;I was a little surprised; we’d had a lot of ups and downs.  She pushed away every time we started getting closer, and I really thought that like others like her who I’d had relationships with, she’d only been saying what she thought I wanted her to say, or was saying things to test me.  She’d been moved around so many times, and had only one or two real life-long bonds with people from her past.  And I know when she moved out to our home she planned to keep her distance until it was time to move on.  Even after living with me for a year, and feeling like we’d made a connection, I felt like she wasn’t being 100% honest about wanting to be adopted, but I wanted it and I let my emotion rule the day.&lt;br /&gt;I started talking to her case manager and her aunt about it.  Through a lot of discussion, we started moving forward with the adoption.  At first, she was acting very happy about it all.  She really started connecting with my extended family, and making herself a permanent fixture in my heart.  That summer was trying, though.  She got a job and was working as many hours as she could get.  I worried a little because I knew in the past, at other homes, she would involve herself in activities outside the home just to be away from the foster family she was living with.  Her behavior started escalating again, she started getting colder towards the family. &lt;br /&gt;Then we were only a month or two away from finalizing the adoption.  Tragedy struck our home.  Will’s mom got custody back.  I’d raised him from birth, and Cami had been there for a majority of it.  We were both devastated.  He was leaving us, and though I knew we’d still see him because of our relationship with his mom, Cami didn’t believe it.  She left me the same day he did.  She told me she’d never loved me and everything I ever said to her went in one ear and out the other.  It was a bad day to say it, because I was grieving a loss too, and couldn’t play this game with her.  She told me she wanted to move, and I let her.  At that moment, I didn’t have the strength to hold on to her.&lt;br /&gt;            I often regret my weakness in that moment.  I wish I’d have held on to her until she stopped screaming.  But I just couldn’t.  And she moved a few days later.  She moved to a horrible place where the foster mom truly did think of foster care as a job.  Cami became a lone person in a home full of lone people, and I kept telling myself that I didn’t care, she’d pushed too far that time.  But I did care, and it hurt for a very long time.  Ironically, I had Will back in my home within a month.  His mom voluntarily brought him back to me and eventually I adopted him.  Cami’s case manager told me that when she went to see Cami, pictures of our family were all over her wall.  She was still calling me mom.  I missed her, but didn’t want her to hurt me or my other kids anymore.&lt;br /&gt;            After four long months of silence between us, we met again.  Cami’s counselor, my miracle worker, brought us back together.  We met in his office.  He’d told me that with all Cami’s problems, her inability to love and be loved by others, he felt that she had finally let someone in, me, and that she did need me.  I met with her, and had a list of things I needed to make clear if we were going to have a relationship moving forward.  She listened to me, and she agreed with me.  Some of the things I had to tell her hurt, but she finally felt a strong enough connection with someone that she was willing to let that someone call a few of the shots in the relationship.&lt;br /&gt;            Cami never moved back into my house.  But we’ve never missed a single Christmas with each other.  Everything has not been jellybeans and roses since, we’ve had plenty of “talks” and we’ve had to listen to each other.  But she’s never left me again.  She tells me she often hears me talking to her when she’s about to do something she knows I would hate, and sometime it keeps her from doing it. &lt;br /&gt;She’s moved here and there, on her own at 18, with a little help from me and a few others.  She’s finding her way, but she still calls me mom.  She’s moved out of state, but comes to see us whenever she can, and she calls and texts often.  She has since reunited with her birth mother, and said the first thing she told her mother was that she already has a mom, but she was willing to get to know her.  I encouraged the reunification so she could never have any regrets. &lt;br /&gt;When she comes home to visit I laugh because I hear her tell my kids to listen to me, I’m always right.  I’m just glad I still have her and happy she’s glad to have me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-5563514406434624103?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/5563514406434624103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=5563514406434624103&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/5563514406434624103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/5563514406434624103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2008/06/cami.html' title='Cami'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-2548750691728675099</id><published>2007-10-29T09:13:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-10-29T09:31:50.831-06:00</updated><title type='text'>YaYa again!</title><content type='html'>OK, I know I can't really complain.  I had to know when I adopted two girls who were only 15 years younger than me that I would most probably be a young grandmother.  And I am.  I have one grandson (that I know of) and now I have another on the way.  I'm not even 40.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it isn't even really about me.  I have issues.  When Kneesaa was 18, she met this guy on the cruise down town, and within 3 weeks they were engaged.  She still went off to college, but they continued to have this weird sort of dysfunctional relationship.  Not to mention that I'm pretty positive that he's gay.  Which, whatever, but own it, you know?  Quit trying to pretend you're not!  Anyway, 7 months after moving her up north to go to college she was dropping out and moving back down here, to get married, ON HER BIRTHDAY!  He, of course, arranged all the wedding details and insisted on having the courthouse nuptials on that day.  I ripped him a new one because I didn't want her to spend the rest of her life either having to put her birthday second to an anniversary, or, if things didn't work out, having to remember this mistake on her day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But who am I anyway?  So there they are, married, fighting constantly, she's being abused (shhh, she doesn't think I know this), and eventually they have a baby.  This is supposed to make their marriage worse.  It, obviously, doesn't.  All it does is bring a sickly baby into a horrible situation.  And she insists on reminding me often that I am Ya Ya, but I hardly ever get to see my grandson. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, before my grandson is even 8 months old, she's let her gay husband.  She's shacked up with her childhood-best-friend's brother, and letting the abuser run the divorce the same way he ran the wedding.  Poorly.  Not that I was allowed to offer any kind of advice or support through the whole thing.  So it's done, they are divorced right about the time my grandson turns a year old.  We have a party for the baby and he has a great time.  I am happy she's out of that relationship, and am continuing to be supportive of her decisions no matter how much they go against my own idea of healthy living.  I welcome the new guy into the family, and chat it up with his mom and Kneesaa's best friend and her children.  We all had a good time, and my grandson had a good birthday!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two or three weeks later, she tells us she's pregnant.  God help her.  And if she'd stop and take a look, she'd see that we are wiling to be there for her, support her, and love her, but she's so afraid of what she's doing with her life, she won't even call.  Her phone number changes monthly, so I can't get a hold her.  I just want to love her, no matter what choices she's making for herself.  I've accepted that I'm a young Ya Ya...now let me be one!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-2548750691728675099?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/2548750691728675099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=2548750691728675099&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/2548750691728675099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/2548750691728675099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2007/10/yaya-again.html' title='YaYa again!'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-1562879728513690162</id><published>2007-09-10T10:25:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-09-10T10:57:40.967-06:00</updated><title type='text'>OMG!</title><content type='html'>That's G for Gosh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm horrible!!  I have a grandson, and I never do anything for him.  I always excuse myself by saying, I have young children too, I told her I wasn't ready to be a grandma!  But the reality is, I knew when I adopted her that I could potentially have grandchildren soon.  After all, she was 18 when I adopted her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So his birthday is tomorrow, and I haven't even gotten a card for him.  His party isn't until this weekend, so I have time, but I feel bad when I see the countdown to his birthday on my blog and I realize I haven't really given it much thought.  I get so caught up in the day to day at home, and I lose track of this kind of stuff. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've got a two year old, four year old, five year old, six year old, eight year old, and eleven year old at home.  I have a 19 year old in Reno, a 21 year old living in town with my grandson, and a 21 year old in the wind.  Are you thinking, "...bitten off more than you can chew..."?  Maybe, overwhelmed sometimes for sure.  I barely put together my 4 year old's birthday party last week.  My six year old turns 7 next month.  At least I don't have to do anything for my birthday in November, and I have a few months to figure out my two year old's birthday in December.  Then just after Christmas my eight year old and my best friend have a birthday on the same day.  My older 21 year old is in February, but she's in the wind, so I just buy her a card and something small and stow it away in a gift bag that I'll give her if she ever comes home again.  My other 21 year old shares her birthday month, March, with my mom, both my brothers, my mother, my sister in law and my niece.  In April my youngest girl has her 6th birthday the day before my other niece has her 6th birthday, and my dad is at the end of the month, and also one adoption birthday.  In May I have my 11 year old's birthday and my 19 year old's birthday, and two adoption birthdays.  In June I only have one adoption birthday.  In July I have my other sister-in-law and my other best friend.  August I'm free of birthdays...I think.  And I didn't mention my four year old's birthday in September is on the same day as my OTHER best friend.  (I only have three friends and they are all best!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See, I can recite all that, but when it comes down to being the day of someone's birthday, I find that I've forgotten to do anything and I have to scramble.  Someone has cursed me and caused brain damage I'm sure!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for reading!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-1562879728513690162?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/1562879728513690162/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=1562879728513690162&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/1562879728513690162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/1562879728513690162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2007/09/omg.html' title='OMG!'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-5504699441065881541</id><published>2007-08-28T08:43:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-08-28T08:57:33.148-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Frustrated</title><content type='html'>When I was 26 years old I took on the responsibility of being my mom's caregiver.  Now, at first that only meant having her live with me.  I didn't change my lifestyle completely at the time.  I still went out with friends constantly and lived my own life.  But slowly I started living more her life.  I felt bad if I left the house to do something without her.  I felt bad if I was doing something she didn't like, you know, things I had a right to do because I was an adult, but things she didn't like.  I started to feel like I was 16 years old again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here I am 10 years later, and I'm raising children with her in the house, and I still feel like I'm 16 years old.  I feel like every decision I make has to be OK'd by her.  If my kids ask me permission for something, if she's there I look to her to make sure she's OK with it.  I HATE that.  Why can't I be an adult and stop looking for her approval before I do something?  She doesn't necessarily expect me to get her approval, though she does give a good guilt trip if she doesn't like my decisions.  But for crying out loud, when will I take my life into my own hands again?  I don't like my kids thinking they should ask Granny not mom.  And they do.  If she and I are in the same room and one of my kids comes in looking for permission, they say, "Granny, is it alright if..."  I'm standing right there, and they don't even give me a second thought.  This is my fault, I need to take charge here.  I'm so weak and wuss like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now, my dad is here.  He's driving me INSANE!  He was NEVER there for me.  He was not a parent.  He left when I was 4.  He was a jerk the whole time I was growing up.  He doesn't have the first clue about how to parent, let alone how to have a decent relationship with anyone.  He says the rudest things to people, and is so judgemental.  And now he's doing it to my kids and I am hating him for it!  And he's made snide remarks to me and my mom, and I'm sick of it!!  Who does he think he is coming into my life all of a sudden and thinking he has the right to put any of us down?  He's the jerk who got fired and now can't take care of himself and has nobody willing to help him!  I find myself confronting him like I never used to, and he doesn't like it.  Any time I confront him and make him explain why he just made a rude comment about someone in my family, he leaves.  Good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look at friends and cousins and people my age, and I see them being the adults in their families, and being who they should be at this age.  Why can't I make the change in my life to be that?  Decisions about my kids should be mine and only mine, and I shouldn't feel the need to look to my mom for permission.  It's not like she's all knowing and superior, she should be Granny.  God help me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-5504699441065881541?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/5504699441065881541/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=5504699441065881541&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/5504699441065881541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/5504699441065881541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2007/08/frustrated.html' title='Frustrated'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-5419293549844103825</id><published>2007-08-14T08:41:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T08:45:45.784-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Untitled</title><content type='html'>I thought about calling this "Where Did You Go" or "Lost Girls" but can't decide. I had the desire to write a song one day. I was missing Allee a lot and they called and said they were moving Kristy. I'd never written a song before and suddenly really wanted to. It would be cool if someone like Pink sang it because Allee really liked Pink. Anyway, here it is, what do you think? Title suggestions?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;I remember you, when I was a girl I was sitting on your lap, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;You were whispering in my ear, mommy to me, together we’d be. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;I remember feeling your arms around me keeping me warm, keeping me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;I wish I had a picture. I wish you were here now. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;Where did you go when I needed you most? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;Where did you go, I thought I saw your ghost? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;I’m gonna explode, I can’t hang on &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;I’ve lost my way, I need you mom. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;I can remember going to the fair &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;Laughing with you beside me eating cotton candy, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;Hanging on to you as we flew through the air on the swings. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;I remember being at home sitting on the porch &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;pointing out butterflies with you, being with you. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;I wish you hadn’t left me. I wish you could come back.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;Where did you go when I needed you most? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;Where did you go, I thought I saw your ghost? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;I’m gonna explode, I can’t hang on &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;I’ve lost my way, I need you mom. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;I can remember searching the streets for you, wondering why, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;Keeping warm without you at night, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;then waving goodbye to you as they drove me away. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;Sleeping in strange beds, living with strangers, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;year after year while you were where? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;I can remember hoping never to see you again, never to hear your voice again &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;But I didn’t mean it then, and especially not now that I won’t see you ever. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;Where did you go when I needed you most? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;Where did you go, I thought I saw your ghost? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;I’m gonna explode, I can’t hang on &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;I’ve lost my way, I need you mom. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;I’m all grown up now, I’m a woman on the run. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;I can’t find my home, I can’t find my mom. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;My daughter cries and I see your eyes, I hold her tight &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;And point out butterflies. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;I hope I can be what you weren’t for me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;And keep her safe for eternity. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;She’ll always know where I am, where are you? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;Where did you go when I needed you most? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;Where did you go, I thought I saw your ghost? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;I’m gonna explode, I can’t hang on &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;I’ve lost my way, I need you mom.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-5419293549844103825?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/5419293549844103825/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=5419293549844103825&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/5419293549844103825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/5419293549844103825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2007/08/i-thought-about-calling-this-where-did.html' title='Untitled'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-3442921330316987335</id><published>2007-07-31T08:31:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-07-31T08:35:35.490-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Mom's Not Doing Well</title><content type='html'>My mom is just not doing well.  She lost all that weight, and then the fluid started.  She goes in to the hospital 3 times a week to have fluid drained off her torso around her lungs, and they can only guess that it is being caused by her Mixed Connective Tissue Disease, specifically the Lupus.  So they did a CT last week, and found a HUGE blood clot in one of her lungs.  Now they're in emergency mode trying to get that to dissolve.  And yesterday she overheard them saying they also found spots all over her spleen but they didn't tell her what it was or could be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God, please help my mom.  She needs you right now, she's scared.  I hate seeing her like this, and I worry so much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-3442921330316987335?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/3442921330316987335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=3442921330316987335&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/3442921330316987335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/3442921330316987335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2007/07/moms-not-doing-well.html' title='Mom&apos;s Not Doing Well'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-7453422696375341384</id><published>2007-07-10T09:37:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-07-10T09:52:35.271-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Name the cliche: it's like old home week, they're coming out of the woodwork, when it rains it pours...whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I can't get a title on this post.  Technology!) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One time I wrote this brilliant poem using all cliches.  I was so creative and genius when I was younger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you feeling like I may be ADHD today, jumping around like this?  I had something to write about and it made these other dumb things jump in my head, and I decided to do a kind of stream of consciousness thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, yesterday I was minding my own business, and got an IM from someone I worked with like 4 years ago, and really haven't seen or heard from since I left the company.  It was cool, and weird, and good to talk to someone I knew then.  I don't have much contact at all with any of those people, and you'd think I would.  These were the people I met and worked with when I first moved back to Idaho, and continued to associate with and work with for 3 years.  They saw me through a lot of stuff emotional and otherwise.  And now I don't see or talk to any of them.  Anyway, she was good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, last night, at about 10:30 the phone rang.  Now, in our house, if the phone rings late, it's usually bad news.  My mom answered, then made a face and I knew it wasn't tragedy, but she looked irritated.  She handed the phone to me and said, "It's {insert name here}" one of the girls' birth mom.  So I took the phone and very coldly said, "Hello."  This woman has no boundaries and calls at very inappropriate times, even now after she voluntarily terminated her rights to her daughter.  The woman on the other end of the phone said, "Hi!  How are you?"  It wasn't the birth mother, it was  an old friend of mine.  We grew up together and went to high school together until she dropped out our sophomore year.  At one time in our lives we were inseparable, and then we were on different paths just like that.  Now she was on the other end of the phone line.  We didn't have a falling out, or hate each other or anything like that, we just went different ways.  I was sitting there listening to her talk and thinking how different our lives turned out, and yet here we were talking the same as we always did.  Is that how you know someone was meant to be in your life?  Even though decades can go by between times you talk, you can just pick up the phone and talk like it's something you do daily?  She's a good person.  I'm lucky and happy to know her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for reading my title-free post.  Should it bother me that I can't put a title on it?  I think I need chocolate.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-7453422696375341384?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/7453422696375341384/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=7453422696375341384&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/7453422696375341384'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/7453422696375341384'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2007/07/name-cliche-its-like-old-home-week.html' title=''/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-8987498272691267959</id><published>2007-06-19T08:52:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-06-19T09:08:23.275-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Sorry Just Isn't Good Enough Anymore</title><content type='html'>People are becoming impossible to satisfy anymore.  If something goes wrong, it's like they want you to perform magical acts to alter the world until they are happy again.  Sometimes, even when things have happened that are unfair to you, it can't be made entirely right again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had this guy walk into my office this morning thinking he was scheduled for a test.  The reality was, when he called and scheduled, he'd called the office in Boise and so he was on their schedule.  The test he wanted, I don't give on Tuesday mornings, so I couldn't give it to him.  On Tuesday mornings my office is open for walk-in university placement testing, and I cannot give the test he wanted to someone while my door is open for people to walk in, it's a federal testing policy.  I offered to try to get him in when I give the test this afternoon, but that test session is full, so I couldn't guarantee he'd get in. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He wanted me to guarantee it.  I couldn't, I only have so many seats, and the schedule for this afternoon was full.  I can't call someone up and cancel their test because this guy wants to test.  I was trying to explain this to him, in a nice way, but he kept escalating.  He was sure this was our fault because he didn't know he had called Boise when he scheduled.  He kept saying I wasn't doing enough for him.  I didn't know what else to do.  I told him I was doing all I can do, and I apologized for the mix up.  It just wasn't good enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it made me think.  I get that way to sometimes.  Someone does something to me, or isn't forthcoming enough so I get caused problems or inconveniences, and nothing satisfies me after that.  I don't want to hear sorry from people anymore.  Is it because "sorry" is said too often and used to excuse incompetence or offending behavior?  In some ways I think so.  When my kids say sorry I tell them to save it because they use it to excuse their behavior instead of taking accountability and then doing something to change that behavior.  For so long I've thought it was just them, but now I see that we all do it.  People and businesses don't take accountability anymore.  When we screw up we say sorry then move on to do the same thing to the next person the next day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to make a pledge, here and now, that when I screw up, I'll apologize and mean it.  I won't use "sorry" lightly anymore, and I will change my ways when the things I do or say hurt someone or make someone else's life uncomfortable.  If I expect my kids to do it, I should to!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-8987498272691267959?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/8987498272691267959/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=8987498272691267959&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/8987498272691267959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/8987498272691267959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2007/06/sorry-just-isnt-good-enough-anymore.html' title='Sorry Just Isn&apos;t Good Enough Anymore'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-2005439888737859726</id><published>2007-06-12T10:18:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-06-12T10:21:07.147-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Just Sad</title><content type='html'>I was just reading over a post I wrote for &lt;a href="http://arstories.blogspot.com"&gt;Tales&lt;/a&gt; about one of my girls who just got married this month.  You know, after you write and publish you go out and look at it to make sure it looks and reads right.  So I was reading it, and I got teary-eyed.  That's just sad!  Anyone got a Kleenex?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-2005439888737859726?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/2005439888737859726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=2005439888737859726&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/2005439888737859726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/2005439888737859726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2007/06/im-just-sad.html' title='I&apos;m Just Sad'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-4522304151053084683</id><published>2007-06-04T15:06:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-06-04T16:35:01.380-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Pain in the...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ELBOW!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Good grief!  I fell, what, a month ago.  Oh, I haven't posted since just before I fell, have I?  See, I was walking out to the van, getting everyone in and ready to head to soccer.  I had 2-year-old in my arms and was almost there when my foot slipped off the edge of the sidewalk.  All I really remember is trying to keep my boy from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;hitting the&lt;/span&gt; ground (and he hit anyway.)  For about two weeks I endured ankle pain from twisting it, of course.  But apparently I did something far worse to my elbow, because it still hurts.  It's taking me all day to type this post because of the waves of pain radiating from my elbow to my fingertips and from my elbow to my shoulder.  They x-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;rayed&lt;/span&gt; and found nothing.  I've had three different braces now, and this last one is too small I think because within minutes of putting it on my hand starts to puff up and anything I do hurts.  I start physical therapy on Friday.  Wish me luck, if that doesn't work, they'll inject steroids and immobilized my arm in a cast for three weeks.  Wish me luck and thanks for reading!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-4522304151053084683?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/4522304151053084683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=4522304151053084683&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/4522304151053084683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/4522304151053084683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2007/06/pain-in.html' title='Pain in the...'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-5947229289889719279</id><published>2007-04-18T11:01:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-04-18T11:19:00.275-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Guns for All and All for Guns</title><content type='html'>I generally don't post my opinions on current events, mostly because I don't spend a lot of time reading the paper or watching the news.  I admit, I'm selfish about what I form opinions about, I don't vest my time in every little issue that comes along.  Being human, though, tragedy like what Virginia Tech has just experienced does affect me.  I watch and read about the events because I have empathy for all who are directly affected, and because I feel like it does affect my world as it is a sign of how our society has evolved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm watching a news report about the whole horrific event last night, and suddenly they are interviewing students who are angry with Virginia Tech.  They are angry because the campus has a policy prohibiting guns at the school.  They are angry because they feel this policy left law abiding citizens, student, unable to protect themselves against a raving lunatic.  I think their anger is misdirected.  I realize they need to feel like they could have done something if only...but that's simply not true. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even if they were allowed to have guns on campus, would they really be carrying them to their 9:00 French class?  How safe would any of us really feel if we knew we were sitting in class with 30 other 18-21 year olds who may have a gun in their backpack?  And when in the face of danger, unexpected danger, what stressed-out, possibly hung over, sleep-deprived, young adult barely out of the nest individual has the sense to remain calm and "take out" the offender rather than panic, cause more chaos, and possibly shoot an innocent bystander or get themselves killed.  Come on, you can't be serious that you think this is really the result of poor planning on the part of the university rather than what it really is. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And from everything I've read so far, there were tons of warning signs about this kid that everyone who knew him is stating and yet nobody did anything about it.  Other students used to joke about how he would one day start shooting, but nobody tried to stop it before it happened.  The problem isn't that the other students didn't have guns, it's that our society has evolved into this.  We see our friends and neighbors in trouble, and we don't do or say anything until after the tragedy occurs, then we blame everyone else.  We don't get involved with each other, we get involved with our causes.  I'm just as guilty as anyone else.  We don't need more freedom to carry guns, we need more compassion and sense of community at the get-go.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-5947229289889719279?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/5947229289889719279/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=5947229289889719279&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/5947229289889719279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/5947229289889719279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2007/04/guns-for-all-and-all-for-guns.html' title='Guns for All and All for Guns'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-5355755018963546069</id><published>2007-04-16T18:46:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-04-16T19:13:12.163-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My Interview Questions</title><content type='html'>I was surfing one day, reading through all my favorite blogs, and came across this interview game on Pointless Drivel. I thought it might be fun, so here are &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;the&lt;/span&gt; questions he asked of me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Q1. You have a counter on your blog counting down the days until Christmas. How long have you been clinically insane?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;A1. I couldn't really say as I've never ventured in to the nearest clinic to be diagnosed insane. However, I have had a Christmas Countdown Chalkboard hanging by my front door non-stop for 4 years now. But I don't know which gives me more pleasure, the anticipation that comes with watching the days peel away before the wonder of this glorious holiday, or the look of sheer anguish on the faces of those who, as they pass through my door, realize they were just reminded of how many more days they have to get ready for my favorite day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;Q2. You're the second blogger I know from Idaho. Is Idaho made up of just two &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;bloggers&lt;/span&gt; and several million white supremacists?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;A2. (Are there even several million people in Idaho?) If you think of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;bloggers&lt;/span&gt; as democrats, and republicans as white supremacists, then I'd have to say the answer to this question is simply yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;Q3. You like camping and rafting. Have you had any Deliverance experiences you would like to share with us?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;A2. I've never camped and rafted in Georgia/South Carolina, so the answer would be no. If you are suggesting that all the republican/white &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;supremacists&lt;/span&gt; in Idaho are also inbred hillbillies, you should know, we reintroduced the wolf to the mountains of Idaho to help thin that population. Maybe that's why there aren't several million of them here...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666600;"&gt;Q4. You were born under the Sign of the Dog and you work in education, so you would be the one to answer this question: Is it indeed possible to teach old dogs new tricks?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999900;"&gt;A4. I learned to blog didn't I? Of course, I can't teach my mother to store new numbers in her phone...then again, she was born under the sign of the pig, maybe that's her problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003333;"&gt;Q5. You are stuck on an Island with all the Disney characters. Which one do you kill and eat first?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;A5. Donald Duck, I love fresh roasted duck at sunset! And who wants to sit around and listen to that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;quacky&lt;/span&gt; voice for eternity?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, if you want to play, here are the rules:&lt;br /&gt;Leave me a comment saying, “Interview me.”I will respond by asking you five questions. I get to pick the questions.You will update your weblog with the answers to the questions.You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-5355755018963546069?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/5355755018963546069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=5355755018963546069&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/5355755018963546069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/5355755018963546069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2007/04/my-interview-questions.html' title='My Interview Questions'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-1144590118313397565</id><published>2007-04-11T13:57:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-04-11T14:15:13.608-06:00</updated><title type='text'>WebMD</title><content type='html'>Have you ever been to &lt;a href="http://webmd.com/"&gt;WebMD&lt;/a&gt;? I went there to check out a few things going on with my body to decide if I should ignore it or call my doc. Well daad-guum (to quote Mater), it's a hypochondriac's dream. You put in your symptoms, and it gives you a list of up to 20 things that might be wrong with you. Then you can click on those diagnosis and see what they are all about!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now I may be dying from Diabetic Ketoacidosis, or have Diabetes type 1 or 2, or severe sinusitis, or migraine headaches, or asthma, or tension headache, or dehydration, or a sunburn (highly unlikely, I think I can diagnose when i get one of those), or farsightedness. How do I choose?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get checked for diabetes every year because it does run in my family. I guess I could go in and have it checked again early. I have a history of headaches, tension, migraine, and sinus, but I don't feel like those are the problem. I don't have a history of asthma personally or in my family, I guess I could get that checked. I've had lasik surgery, and my vision is generally fine other than occasional blurriness, so it's probably not farsightedness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I should stay away from WebMD. Last summer it had me believing I was in stage 3 lung cancer, and it turned out to be stress and allergies. All I can say is, if you check it our, tread lightly, and then call your doctor for the real answers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-1144590118313397565?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/1144590118313397565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=1144590118313397565&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/1144590118313397565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/1144590118313397565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2007/04/webmd.html' title='WebMD'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-7077314727585906757</id><published>2007-04-10T10:30:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-04-10T10:38:40.971-06:00</updated><title type='text'>American Idol</title><content type='html'>OK, so American Idol is something like a modern Star Search, and we're all supposed to mock it.  People are forming internet communities who's sole purpose is to vote off the best singers in order to make the show a joke.  But at what point did we all become so cynical and expert in everything that we know nothing about that we think it's our job to bring others down?  I realize there a lot of people who try out for this show who probably should have stuck to singing in the privacy of their own showers, but those who make it to the final 10 or 12 are there because they do have talent, or show potential.  These people have dreams, and are putting themselves in a vulnerable position to take yours, mine, and Simon Kowel's (sp?) criticism.  Why do some feel the need to make a mockery of it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fact is, when you turn on the radio, in a day you will hear several former contestants from American Idol singing their tunes.  Obviously, this show has found some talented people, and we are all listening to and enjoying their art.  Why not let the show continue to find good vocal artists for us to enjoy?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-7077314727585906757?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/7077314727585906757/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=7077314727585906757&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/7077314727585906757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/7077314727585906757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2007/04/american-idol.html' title='American Idol'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-3199533074574059577</id><published>2007-04-04T16:24:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-04-04T16:30:52.194-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Truth in Posting</title><content type='html'>How many of you tell the truth about everything you write about in your blog?  I admit I hold things back, but haven't outright lied.  I should be able to say what I want here, but am afraid my friends or family will find this blog and read something I didn't want them to know or hear from me.  It kind of feels constraining sometimes.  Right now I have two blogs, and the other is well known by my friends and family.  Then one day I developed this one, and I kept it a secret.  I don't really know why, I don't have deep dark secrets, or a crazy alter-ego or anything.  I guess I just wanted a place of my own.  But I still don't say everything here in case someone I know finds it. &lt;br /&gt;I think what I really need is a "real life" friend.  Have you ever heard of those?  Yeah, I guess there are other real life people out there who are not part of my family who I could be "friends" with and talk to and do things with.&lt;br /&gt;Who am I kidding?  Like I have time to add another activity to my life.  As if these so-called "real-life" people even exist!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for reading!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-3199533074574059577?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/3199533074574059577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=3199533074574059577&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/3199533074574059577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/3199533074574059577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2007/04/truth-in-posting.html' title='Truth in Posting'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-2567595031532467781</id><published>2007-04-02T12:32:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-04-02T12:37:03.834-06:00</updated><title type='text'>HAPPILY, NOT FRUSTRATED ANYMORE!!</title><content type='html'>Guess what! I'm getting the van. A VERY good friend of my family came through for us, and by this time next week, we will have the new van!! Thanks to all who may have considered helping out. And thanks to all who may have prayed for us! It looks like this only white:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5048901511713940402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_ETHxL86W5FI/RhFNLLekY7I/AAAAAAAAAD4/OsJhdSU3ocg/s320/2003+montana.jpg" border="5" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-2567595031532467781?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/2567595031532467781/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=2567595031532467781&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/2567595031532467781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/2567595031532467781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2007/04/happily-not-frustrated-anymore.html' title='HAPPILY, NOT FRUSTRATED ANYMORE!!'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ETHxL86W5FI/RhFNLLekY7I/AAAAAAAAAD4/OsJhdSU3ocg/s72-c/2003+montana.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-4044647431278991</id><published>2007-03-29T14:06:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-29T14:09:35.594-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Frustration Update #2</title><content type='html'>We have a source who can give us $7000 towards the van, but still need $6000 more. Any ideas how we could come up with that? (My donation button works if you want to contribute!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-4044647431278991?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/4044647431278991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=4044647431278991&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/4044647431278991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/4044647431278991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2007/03/frustration-update-2.html' title='Frustration Update #2'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-7743782600580242303</id><published>2007-03-28T12:46:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-29T08:15:58.979-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Frustration UPDATE...</title><content type='html'>I cannot explain the level of disappointment and depression I am at right now. Things were finally going &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt; for us, I thought they were really looking up. I have a car that's about to fall apart, and a van that only starts some of the time, and I REALLY needed to get this new van. But it won't be happening. They won't reconsider, and now I'm out. Not only that, but I applied for this loan on Lending Tree, which I don't recommend to ANYONE! They put 12 inquiry hits on my credit, and now nobody will touch me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are there any benefactors out there looking for someone to give to? I just need $13,000 to get this van for my family of poor foster children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks again for listening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://justagirlfromla.blogspot.com/"&gt;Girl from LA has asked to be linked to this post.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-7743782600580242303?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/7743782600580242303/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=7743782600580242303&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/7743782600580242303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/7743782600580242303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2007/03/frustration-update.html' title='Frustration UPDATE...'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-3015843844248818045</id><published>2007-03-28T10:58:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-28T11:09:23.897-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Frustration!!</title><content type='html'>For the first time in 10 years, I am trying to get a new vehicle. I've had some credit problems but have fixed them and am on the road to credit stardom, and it was time for a new vehicle. I was (am) driving a '93 Saturn sedan, 5 seater only if the butts are small. I now have a large family with the number of kids always ranging from 5-6. We don't work in my car. My mom has a van, '97 Dodge Grand Caravan that seats 7. But at those times when the number of kids reaches 6, we don't even fit in the van.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been looking around and found that I LOVE the Pontiac Montana 8 passenger. And I found one, an '03. I was pre-approved for a loan, so when I found this, I was so excited!! I went to finalize the loan, and everything was A-OK until this morning. I found I had an email saying the loan was denied. WHAT?!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I called and found out that when they called my work to verify job status, HR told them I was a part-time employee. I'm not, but that's the official status. See, the girl I replaced here had been full-time, then wanted her status changed to part-time, then quit. I came along, and they hired me to work full-time, but can't change the status until it is approved by the state legislature. (I'm a state employee.) So, based on this technicality, I no longer qualify for the loan. I'm hoping I can convince them to talk to my boss to straighten this out! Pray for me, wish me luck, whatever it takes to help me get this loan through. I NEED THIS VAN!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for listening!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-3015843844248818045?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/3015843844248818045/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=3015843844248818045&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/3015843844248818045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/3015843844248818045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2007/03/frustration.html' title='Frustration!!'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-4936681207483434114</id><published>2007-03-27T08:38:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-27T08:46:07.624-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Other People's Problems</title><content type='html'>My radio station does this segment every Tuesday called "Other People's Problems" where someone sends in an email stating their current problem, and the Treasure Valley tries to give them advice on how to solve it.  Sometimes the problems are interesting and people give pretty good advice.  Today I have mixed feelings:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A lady was driving her child to the bus stop and saw another child already there who was smoking.  Smokey was about 13.  The concerned mom decided to go to his mother and let her know what she saw, but when she went to their house, mom was lighting up with Smokey, and obviously didn't have a problem contributing to her son's future health problems.  The concerned mom then emailed the radio station so we could all get involved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some people called in saying she should call the police.  Some said she should call the school.  Then one lady said she should mind her own business - giving the lady a ticket and her son suspension wouldn't stop them, obviously the problem runs much deeper.  I kind of agree.  I don't think it's right for the lady to be supplying her son with cancer, but IF the police even respond to the complaint, all they'll do is give her a ticket and be on their way...they won't be back out to check on her.  But while I agree with this, I think something should be done about a problem like this, I just don't know what.  Do you?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-4936681207483434114?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/4936681207483434114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=4936681207483434114&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/4936681207483434114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/4936681207483434114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2007/03/other-peoples-problems.html' title='Other People&apos;s Problems'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-1920618970826809883</id><published>2007-03-21T10:37:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-21T10:54:16.571-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Did I Write That?</title><content type='html'>Have you ever looked back at things you wrote in the past...like years ago? Maybe you run across something you don't even remember writing? Sometimes I'll find something I wrote in high school, or when I first started college in the late 80's (ugh!) and think, who wrote this, did I? I think I was a brilliant writer when I was younger. Now when I write I feel like it's ordinary and dull. I took an advanced fiction writing course as I was finishing my degree this decade, and hadn't really written in so long...it was not like riding a bike! I felt rusty. My instructor, a published fiction writer, was good to me though. The first thing he asked in a private conference after reading my first attempt at a new story was, "How long has it been since you wrote anything? I can tell you're a writer." It made me feel good. Like I still might have it. But when I try to write now, all the things every fiction writing instructor has said to me personally or in a class rattles around in my brain, and I feel I try too hard now. I think I was much more brilliant when I didn't know anything about writing, and it was just creative flow!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, what brought this on is that I'm updating my adoption home study as I get ready to adopt my 3 year old, and was just given a copy of my original home study from 2002. For those who don't know, when you do a home study, one of the things you have to do is write a biography. It's supposed to be around 2-4 pages. Mine was 10. I don't know where I stored it after I sent in a copy, so have not seen it since I wrote it. I do remember the social worker telling me she could see I was definitely a writer, and I didn't know if that was a good comment or irritated because she had to read the whole thing. Apparently, in the final home study, they take bits of what you wrote, or maybe with most people they use the whole thing and mine was just too long, and insert it in their report. So I still don't have the whole thing that I wrote, but I found this quote:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;I am a mix of Cherokee, Irish, English, French and Norwegian. I'm simply an American. I'm single and I don't kiss on the first date! This sounds like a personal ad. I was a quiet child, never in trouble, got good grades, and have always been shy. I have strong opinions about human rights, but am not over zealous about political correctness. I have always been a writer of short stories and poems, but also some features and technical writing. I taught myself to read when I was four years old and have been an avid reader ever since.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, so it's not going to win a Pulitzer, but it feels fresh, and has a hint of wit.  I miss that about my writing.  Am I the only one who ever feels this way?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-1920618970826809883?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/1920618970826809883/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=1920618970826809883&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/1920618970826809883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/1920618970826809883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2007/03/did-i-write-that.html' title='Did I Write That?'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-1957685218164180671</id><published>2007-03-20T14:37:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-20T14:56:52.937-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Who Knew?</title><content type='html'>This morning I wanted to go to the website for the National Foster Parent Association.  I'm one of those people who doesn't read directions unless I run into a problem, you know?  So when I need to find something online, I usually try typing in likely addresses rather than doing a search.  So I typed www.&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;nfpa&lt;/span&gt; and then had to decide if it would be an org or a com.  I tried org first...seemed logical.  And I got the National Fire Protection Association.  OK, so I tried com, and this time I got the National Fluid Power Association.  Who knew we had a National Fluid Power Association?  Makes me wonder if we have regional fluid power associations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All this made me think about a time when I was working somewhere I don't work now, and we were all sitting around, wasting time, making more money than we were working for, and talking about the Love Boat.  Someone asked a question none of us could answer, so I went online.  I put in www dot &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;theloveboat&lt;/span&gt; dot com and got something that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;could've&lt;/span&gt; gotten me fired if the wrong person saw it on my terminal.  Well, that site is no longer there, and now that address gives you a cruise line, so this post isn't as clever as I wanted it to be.  What can I say?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-1957685218164180671?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/1957685218164180671/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=1957685218164180671&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/1957685218164180671'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/1957685218164180671'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2007/03/who-knew.html' title='Who Knew?'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-6532449822526380735</id><published>2007-03-15T16:26:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-15T16:35:07.282-06:00</updated><title type='text'>5 More Minutes!</title><content type='html'>OK, my whole life I've been living with Daylight Savings, and it has never affected me much.  In fact, I usually scoff at those who complain that they are having trouble getting used to the new time.  Come on, it's an hour.  When we travel we usually travel to a different time zone, just one hour difference either way, and it isn't a problem.  So why should Daylight Savings be a problem?  It shouldn't, IT'S AN HOUR DIFFERENCE, NOT 3, 4, 5 HOURS DIFFERENCE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then what's my problem?  All this week I've had trouble getting out of bed in the morning.  This can largely be attributed to the fact that I'm having trouble going to sleep at night.  It seems that no matter how tired I am at night, which is increasingly more each night, I can't get to sleep before midnight, and when that alarm goes off at 6:00 in the morning, I want to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;huck&lt;/span&gt; it across the room.  I DON'T HAVE A PROBLEM WITH DAYLIGHT SAVINGS!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can only say, and this is becoming a theme to this blog, that I am getting old.  Why am I having to suddenly face the increasing number that is my age all of a sudden.  Did I tell you my mom offered to let me use her tube of Preparation H? &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;EWWWWW&lt;/span&gt;.....how old can I possibly be anyway???? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, I gave up popcorn for Lent, and I think it's getting to me.  Did you give anything up?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-6532449822526380735?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/6532449822526380735/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=6532449822526380735&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/6532449822526380735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/6532449822526380735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2007/03/5-more-minutes.html' title='5 More Minutes!'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-3788029572825299533</id><published>2007-03-14T10:38:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-14T10:48:58.931-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Booorrrring...</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I was boring. Who cares about my spending habit? Let's see if I can do better today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, here's one. A social worker friend of mine, who I used to work with a lot in regards to my teens, now works for the local university, you know the one, Boise State University, winners of the 2007 Fiesta Bowl! Anyway, she asked me to write a perspective to read to one of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;her social&lt;/span&gt; work classes, giving them a foster parent's point of view on what's helpful and what's not when it comes to case managers. It took me a while, but I finally wrote something up, and sent it to her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;thinking&lt;/span&gt; it wasn't the greatest, but hopefully it would do. To be honest, it's been so long since I really wrote anything, I felt a little rusty. But it also felt good to be writing something, anything, again. She emailed me back and was embarrassingly overjoyed. She loved it and asked if she could use it in her foster parent training classes and if she could read it in a staff meeting at the department. Part of me was overwhelmed at her enthusiasm over the whole thing, and part of me was secretly excited that my writing still has it. She kept saying, I'll take you name off it, and I kept thinking, why? Writers like to see their name in print! I've lost my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here's what I wrote. Is it really all that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Over the last six years I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; evolved as a person,&lt;br /&gt;parent, and member of the foster care community. Part of that has been my&lt;br /&gt;experience with becoming a parent, and living with the kids, and part of that&lt;br /&gt;has been my experience with a number of different social workers, and all their&lt;br /&gt;views and values. Working with the department, and with Casey Family&lt;br /&gt;Programs, I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; learned a whole lot about child welfare, and the ever changing&lt;br /&gt;policies of the government in regards to our kids. I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; learned even more&lt;br /&gt;about people, and their many differing ideas about how to interact with and&lt;br /&gt;raise children. And most importantly, I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; learned a lot about myself,&lt;br /&gt;what I believe in, and what’s important to me when it comes to&lt;br /&gt;children.&lt;br /&gt;When I first started doing foster care, I&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;wasn&lt;/span&gt;’t a mother yet, and I just wanted children. When I heard about the&lt;br /&gt;things that had actually happened to the children I was taking care of, I was&lt;br /&gt;appalled that anyone would ever think to send these kids home. Some of the&lt;br /&gt;social workers I worked with frustrated me because they were so adamant that we&lt;br /&gt;should be working to get all these kids home to their families, and I was&lt;br /&gt;thinking some of these parents had no business ever seeing their kids&lt;br /&gt;again. But there were a few social workers who saw something in me, they&lt;br /&gt;seemed to think they could make me see reason, and they believed in&lt;br /&gt;me.&lt;br /&gt;I think in the foster care system, “The&lt;br /&gt;Department” has to not only take care of the kids, but also take care of the&lt;br /&gt;parents. All the parents. I’m not sure I’d have stuck with it if it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;hadn&lt;/span&gt;’t been for those few social workers. And now I do see the premise&lt;br /&gt;behind the theory that we should be working to return kids to their&lt;br /&gt;families. I understand that is where we start even though it might not be&lt;br /&gt;how it ends. But I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;wouldn&lt;/span&gt;’t understand that if someone &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;hadn&lt;/span&gt;’t had patience&lt;br /&gt;with me, let me evolve.&lt;br /&gt;See, kids in foster care&lt;br /&gt;have been through a lot! They have seen, heard, done, and had things done&lt;br /&gt;to them that nobody should have to experience. Their parents have been&lt;br /&gt;through a lot too, including losing their children. Foster parents end up&lt;br /&gt;going through a lot as well, the difference being, we sign up for it.&lt;br /&gt;We’ll either freak out and quit within the first year, or we’ll burn out in five&lt;br /&gt;years, or we’ll be lifers. I believe a lot of that has to do with the&lt;br /&gt;social workers we work with. The best social workers are the ones taking&lt;br /&gt;care of the kids, the biological parents, AND the foster parents. Everyone&lt;br /&gt;of these people has a whole lot of stress going on, and is learning new&lt;br /&gt;behaviors that may or may not be good, and is trying to survive in a difficult&lt;br /&gt;situation.&lt;br /&gt;The social workers who do the best&lt;br /&gt;work are the ones who keep it real, stay honest, don’t sugar coat things, don’t&lt;br /&gt;take sides, and don’t forget that their job is about people, not numbers and&lt;br /&gt;budgets. None of the people involved in a situation want to hear whatever&lt;br /&gt;it is you think we want to hear, we want honesty. Don’t say maybe if the&lt;br /&gt;answer is no. Maybe means yes to a kid, it means yes to a lot of the kids’&lt;br /&gt;parents, and it means false hope to the foster parents who are left to deal with&lt;br /&gt;the fall-out. It’s the social workers who can face adversity, handle&lt;br /&gt;confrontation, and give honest answers who make the biggest difference and earn&lt;br /&gt;respect from all those involved. And it’s these social workers who helped&lt;br /&gt;me evolve, become a dedicated team member in the child welfare system.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-3788029572825299533?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/3788029572825299533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=3788029572825299533&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/3788029572825299533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/3788029572825299533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2007/03/booorrrring.html' title='Booorrrring...'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-7480958099710255022</id><published>2007-03-13T09:06:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-13T09:21:06.904-06:00</updated><title type='text'>WHOOPEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!</title><content type='html'>I am so excited!  I've been very careful for the last 5 years, getting everything paid off, taking care of overdue bills and such.  I went to a credit counseling service and signed up in December of 2001, and by May of 2006 all my debts were paid off.  (I had a lot!)  Now, my credit score isn't great, but it's getting better.  I have myself on a budget, and I stick to it.  I'm careful about my money now, where before I just spent it whether I had it or not.  Part of my success here has been in keeping myself out of stores.  I don't go shopping a whole lot, and when I do, I make sure I have money to shop with.  I've found that if I have specific things I need to buy and have the money to buy them, it satisfies some of my desire to shop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now, I've been able to begin some home improvements.  I was smart about it, I wanted to replace all the carpet in my home with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Pergo&lt;/span&gt;.  All my kids seem to have either allergy or asthma problems, most likely stemming from their bio-moms smoking during pregnancy.  I decided one thing I could is get rid of the carpet and have flooring that's easier to keep clean and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;allergen&lt;/span&gt; free.  But I can't afford to replace all the carpet at once.  So I saved up enough money and had &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Pergo&lt;/span&gt; put in my boys' room and the hallway.  (The boys have asthma and allergies where the girls just have allergies.)  Now I'm saving enough money to put it in the living room and kitchen.  I had the flooring place measure the whole house so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;every time&lt;/span&gt; we're ready to do a room, I can just call them and tell them which room, they can look up the measurements, give me a price, and order the flooring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But flooring isn't all I'm excited about.  I'm most excited because I've been approved for a loan to buy a van.  I'm excited because the car I have is very old, and not practical for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;such a&lt;/span&gt;  large family.  The van I'm getting seats 8, and is perfect.  My little car barely seats 5 and only if they are thin.  We generally have 8 people living in our house at any given moment, so I need this van.  It's such a huge accomplishment to me to get myself out of that hole, and be able to do the things my family needs me to do!  It makes me feel good!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-7480958099710255022?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/7480958099710255022/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=7480958099710255022&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/7480958099710255022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/7480958099710255022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2007/03/whoopeeeeeeeeeeee.html' title='WHOOPEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-7762416357534113045</id><published>2007-03-07T09:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-07T10:41:42.870-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When Did I Get Old?</title><content type='html'>OK, so I'm not ancient or anything, but in any given moment, I still feel the same as I did when I was 22, 23...now I'm watching 40 coming fast, barrelling down on me like a freight train.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why can't I feel it, I ask myself.  Then I look at my medicine cabinet and I see it.  Calcium supplements, extra strength multi-vitamins, St. John's Wart, sleep aids, immunity boosters, glucosamine, Protonix, allergy pills, allergy nose spray, allergy eye drops, bulk bottles of ibuprofen, Tylenol, and Aleve.  I take more vitamins and supplements than I ever thought possible just to keep the "minor" aches and pains away.  Not really minor because they have the ability to keep me from sleeping at night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've had a complete hysterectomy, so needless to say, my child bearing years are behind me.  I can't stand listening to the music coming out of my child's room, and the radio station I listen to most often plays "classic" hits from the 80's and 90's.  When did those two decades become the era of classics?  Good grief, I remember the threat of the Soviet Union, and my grown children don't even know what the Soviet Union is.  My brother was telling me about a time when his wife's nieces were over and saw his album collection.  They asked him to play one for him, and when they took it out of the cover, they asked which side goes up?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know, everyone goes through this.  Just, when the reality hits that it's happening to you, it takes a toll.  It's like teenagers thinking they are invincible.  I think that feeling lingers until now...I finally don't feel invincible anymore.  Maybe I'm lucky, maybe other people hit this sooner than I did.  Or maybe each generation hits this realization later and later. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just remember when my mom was this age, I thought she was so old and wise.  Why don't I feel old and wise now?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-7762416357534113045?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/7762416357534113045/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=7762416357534113045&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/7762416357534113045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/7762416357534113045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2007/03/when-did-i-get-old.html' title='When Did I Get Old?'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-4451021977049696372</id><published>2007-02-15T08:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-15T08:52:50.622-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Birthday Allee!</title><content type='html'>Today is Allee's birthday.  She's my oldest daughter, and is 21 today.  I haven't seen her in 2 1/2 years.  The last time she was at my house, she robbed it.  Besides the stuff she took that she could get money for, she also took some very sentimental things.  She took all my pictures of her off the walls.  It was like she was trying to erase herself from my life.  But I still carry her love notes in my purse, and her memory in my heart.  I miss Allee so much it hurts.  I would give anything to have her back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Allee, if you happen upon this, please know that I love you.  You have a place always in my heart and soul.  I hope you are well, and happy, and that some day you'll come home.&lt;br /&gt;Love always,&lt;br /&gt;mom&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-4451021977049696372?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/4451021977049696372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=4451021977049696372&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/4451021977049696372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/4451021977049696372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2007/02/happy-birthday-allee.html' title='Happy Birthday Allee!'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-5823514990584645343</id><published>2007-02-06T10:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-15T09:01:08.287-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Scared in my Own Home</title><content type='html'>&lt;table style="COLOR: black;color:black;" border cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2" align="center" border="3"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="middle" bg style="color:#cbe5fe;"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 14pt; COLOR: black"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Your Political Profile:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#cce2fe"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Overall&lt;/strong&gt;: 25% Conservative, 75% Liberal&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#cddffe"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Social Issues&lt;/strong&gt;: 25% Conservative, 75% Liberal&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#cfdcff"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Personal Responsibility&lt;/strong&gt;: 25% Conservative, 75% Liberal&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#d0d8ff"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Fiscal Issues&lt;/strong&gt;: 25% Conservative, 75% Liberal&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#d1d5ff"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ethics&lt;/strong&gt;: 0% Conservative, 100% Liberal&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#d2d2ff"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Defense and Crime&lt;/strong&gt;: 50% Conservative, 50% Liberal&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/howliberalorconservativeareyouquiz/"&gt;How Liberal Or Conservative Are You?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I went to bed thinking, well, tomorrow's the day. She's leaving. Then I thought, this would be the time for her to do something if she was going to do something. I got scared. I started imagining her coming in my room with a knife in the middle of the night. Good grief, isn't that a bit paranoid?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See, today my last teen foster daughter turns 18, and therefore is no longer in care. And let's just say we don't have a good relationship with her. In fact, she's had the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;majority&lt;/span&gt; of her things moved out of our house for three weeks now, just waiting for this day. She couldn't wait to walk out and never come back. And for the first time in 6 years, I felt the same way about a child leaving my home. I've been counting it down. But as the night wore on last night, all I could think was, "She's going to steal us blind on her way out the door, she might hurt someone, we need to change the locks tomorrow." What a terrible way to feel. Where did it all go so wrong? Why did I give up on this one when I've never given up on any of the others?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to come up with a bunch of excuses as to why I let this one go. All anyone ever does these days is give excuses. I do feel like I tried with her. I gave her the benefit of the doubt when everyone told me all her negatives before she even moved in with us. She was 16. Through the first year there were a lot of ups and downs. I had to deal &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;with&lt;/span&gt; her stealing from the other girls, lying to teachers about her living situation, brain washing my young daughter, hurting the babies...the list goes on. But we made it through the first year. Sometime in the second year I'd had enough. I knew by last July that I was not going to allow her to continue to live with us while she finished high school. (She still has 2 more years after this year.) I get angry with myself that I couldn't hang on with her. Who's going to take care of her now?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-5823514990584645343?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/5823514990584645343/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=5823514990584645343&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/5823514990584645343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/5823514990584645343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2007/02/scared-in-my-own-home.html' title='Scared in my Own Home'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-2383277966801591674</id><published>2007-01-31T10:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-01-31T15:37:03.656-07:00</updated><title type='text'>She Had a Biopsy</title><content type='html'>A while back I wrote about my mom, and being scared that she may have cancer or something else bad. She finally went to the doctor just last week, and yesterday they did a biopsy. Thank you for those who emailed concern, I appreciate your support.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctors are not really concerned that it's cancer, but they did the biopsy just to be 100% certain. They are actually more concerned that it's a side effect of her medication...of one of her medications. She has Mixed Connective Tissue Disease included in that for her are Lupus and Schleraderma. She takes a boat load of meds every morning and evening. Sometimes one of the meds causes organs or skin to become leathery, and this is what they are thinking has happened. If it's the med, they will try her on something else. Meanwhile, they took her off her pain med, which isn't good, and upped her dosage of Prednisone, which really sucks! But her breathing is better now, and most days she is feeling better. But she still has days full of pain and general misery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate that I can't do anything for her. But I am relieved that we don't have the cancer scare we thought we might have. Cancer or not, though, her illnesses are hard to deal with emotionally. It's not likely that she'll live to a ripe old age as have her mother (still alive at 90,) and her grandmother (died at 98.) Not that she wants to live to be 100, but she and we'd all be happy to have her around into her 80's which is another 20 years or more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want her to be here when Will (3) and Annie (8) and Andrew (2) grow up and have significant events happening in their lives. I want her to see her grandchildren become adults. When my oldest brother and I decided to wait to start our families, we never anticipated our parents' health failing before they reached old age. We were arrogant to think they'd be around forever. My dad is also dealing with serious health issues including diabetes, failing eyesight (part of the diabetes), and he's already lost two toes from the disease. He had to face sudden and early retirement. He can't live on his own anymore either. My brothers and I are all near 40 or already there, and we still act as though we are young adults. When I stop and think about my age, it shocks me, EVERY time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's good that I feel so young, but when I will I embrace reality? If I'd had children when I was younger would I feel more grown now? If my mother had not had to move in me while I was still in my mid-twenties, would I feel more grown now? Why do I take for granted that my loved ones will never grow old and pass away? What kind of Peter Pan am I? This is way off from where I started, so I'll go now. Thanks for reading!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This just in (guess I need a makeover):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2" width="350" align="center" border="5"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="middle"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;You've Changed 36% in 10 Years&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#eeeeee"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img height="100" src="http://images.blogthings.com/howmuchhaveyouchangedin10yearsquiz/change-2.jpg" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, the past! You may not remember it well - because you're still living in it.&lt;br /&gt;While you've changed some, you may want to update your wardrobe, music collection and circle of friends.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/howmuchhaveyouchangedin10yearsquiz/"&gt;How Much Have You Changed in 10 Years?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Should I be embarrassed? At least I'm consistant! (And predictable.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-2383277966801591674?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/2383277966801591674/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=2383277966801591674&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/2383277966801591674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/2383277966801591674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2007/01/she-had-biopsy.html' title='She Had a Biopsy'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-8131468288741775829</id><published>2007-01-30T10:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-01-30T10:41:40.798-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Loss and Grief</title><content type='html'>I moonlight on some Thursdays.  My boss knows about it, so I'm OK there.  I spend those Thursdays with people who think they want to be foster parents, teaching them about what their job will entail and what to expect.  It's really a good introductory course to foster care.  It's very general and covers a lot of ground...well, skims a lot of ground.  Of course, you actually learn the most about foster care while doing foster care, as with most anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there's one session in the course during which we talk about loss and grief.  We talk about all the different kinds of loss people endure during the course of their lives - expected losses, unexpected losses - that sort of thing.  We also discuss grief and reactions to loss.  This, of course, leads into the kinds of loss and grief they will be seeing and experiencing as a foster or adoptive parent. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I am not the only foster parent who helps teach this course.  There are about 5 of us, and we switch it around each round as to who teaches which session.  But I've somehow had the grief and loss session for the last two rounds.  (And will have it again in the coming round.)  The day after teaching that session the first of those two rounds, I lost my last pair of jeans to an untimely tear in the knee.  I shared this loss with my class, it was a nice comic relief.  So two weeks ago I taught that same session.  The next day, my family and I were leaving the house, and my dog got out the front door and jetted into the street just as a truck came around the corner.  Three of my children, one of their friends, my mom and I watched and screamed as we watched Louie Lobo get hit in front of our house.  Luckily, he was relatively unharmed.  He scraped his front left wrist but is otherwise OK.  But I don't think the rest of us are.  My three year old talks about it constantly, and the two older girls are much more careful when they open the front door now.  I had a lot of trouble functioning the rest of the day, but am doing better now.  I do notice that Louie is much more wary of the front door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I attribute it to the class.  Now I'm afraid to teach that session again.  I have superstitious tendencies (like the 49ers have had nothing but horrible seasons since I lost my lucky Niners t-shirt the day after Steve Young played his last game on that fateful day in Arizona with me sitting in the stands.  If only I could find that t-shirt!)  If I teach that session again, what will I lose this time?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-8131468288741775829?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/8131468288741775829/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=8131468288741775829&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/8131468288741775829'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/8131468288741775829'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2007/01/loss-and-grief.html' title='Loss and Grief'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-1629280941143923139</id><published>2007-01-25T15:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-01-25T17:04:21.126-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Addicted!</title><content type='html'>OK, so there's all these things out there.  If you come from a family with a history of alcoholics, you have the disposition to become one yourself.  If you come from a family with drug addicts, you have a good chance of becoming addicted if you try them.  Last night my mom informed me that if you are a Pisces, you have a good chance of becoming addicted to, well, anything.  I'm not sure that was a statement from rigorous scientific study, or something she made up to make whatever point she was making at the time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I do think some people are prone to addictions for whatever reason.  When I was younger and in full party mode, one day I stopped and took a long hard look at myself.  My father and oldest brother were both already alcoholics, and I started to think I might be headed that way.  I was drinking at least 3 nights a week, and was drinking so much each time I was blacking out nearly every time I drank.  So I changed my life.  I moved to another college, made new friends, and focused more on school and job than partying.  I didn't stop drinking all together, but if you asked me when the last time I took a drink was, I couldn't tell you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also quit smoking a little over a year ago.  That has been very hard for me, and very few days go by that I don't want a cigarette.  But I have reasons that make me keep from buying a pack, and those reasons are winning over my lack of will power.  So I'm smoke free.  That's not to say I don't love walking past someone just as they exhale so I can get a little whiff.  (It's a sick addiction, really!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what does that leave me?  I never used drugs more than recreationally, and haven't even done that in over 10 years.  What are my new vices?  Don't we all need vices?  It's arrogant to strive for perfection, and unrealistic!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't laugh, I do have a new addiction.... SUDOKU!  I can't believe myself sometimes.  Yesterday I sat at work and did literally nothing but play Sudoku.  I've become quite good at it.  And I actually CRAVE it when I'm not playing.  What's wrong with me?  Who becomes addicted to a number game?  I'm a freak.  I think my mom had it wrong, Scorpios are the ones with addictive personalities!!  Gotta go, my Sudoku book is getting cold.  Have a great weekend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-1629280941143923139?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/1629280941143923139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=1629280941143923139&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/1629280941143923139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/1629280941143923139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2007/01/im-addicted.html' title='I&apos;m Addicted!'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-4413260493951614212</id><published>2007-01-24T10:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-01-24T10:56:29.876-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What's in a Name?</title><content type='html'>I'm &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;weird&lt;/span&gt; about names. I've hashed and rehashed names I wanted to use for my children when I had them. Of course, since I haven't been able to have children of my own, that didn't work out so well. The kids I have or am adopting either came with names, or chose new names for themselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also know my next dog's name years before I get them. My current dog, Louie &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;Lobo&lt;/span&gt;, is the greatest, and luckily, Louie suits him. I chose the name 8 years ago while living in New Mexico and going to the University of New Mexico where the mascot is Louie &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;Lobo&lt;/span&gt;. My Louie is only 2 years old. When he was -6 years old I had a dog bone stocking made for him with his name embroidered across the top. At the time, I had my sweet &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;rotty&lt;/span&gt;, Joe Vandal, named for the University of Idaho Vandals. (I went to school there once too.) Knowing that I've graduated from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;BSU&lt;/span&gt; you're asking, am I going to name my next dog Bronco? No. My next dog will be Sourdough Sam after the mascot of the San Francisco 49&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;ers&lt;/span&gt;. Before I got into naming them after sports team mascots, my dogs were Gypsy and Serenade. Both names came from Steve Miller songs. My best friend and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;roommate&lt;/span&gt; at the time had a cat that we named &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;Shroom&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;Yoka&lt;/span&gt;. OK, we justified the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;Shroom&lt;/span&gt; part in that he was truly mushroom colored. I'm not sure where &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;Yoka&lt;/span&gt; came from, but you can probably guess our state of mind at the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to the kids. When I was younger, I wanted to give all my kids names that would be different, unique. But these days, that's what everyone does. I've got nieces and nephews with names like &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;Tierra&lt;/span&gt;, Shea, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;Sochie&lt;/span&gt;, Wyatt, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;Blaise&lt;/span&gt;. I decided I wanted my kids to have ordinary names...besides, ordinary wasn't ordinary anymore. I can't really tell you what some of my foster kids names have been, but they've definitely been unique!! Some even hard to say and spell. So I decided I wanted to use family names. But I ran into a few snags there too...I had names like &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;Retis&lt;/span&gt;, Neva, Verde, Pauline, and Winnie to choose from. But I did find some that I liked...my great-grandparents were McKinley (before it was popular) and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;Cordia&lt;/span&gt;. I liked those. And I had a Samuel, William, Denise, Andrew, Matthew, and Ann to choose from as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then, I couldn't have kids. When I got &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;Allee&lt;/span&gt;, she had already chosen the name she wanted. Her birth name was very Catholic. She'd chosen Mackenzie &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;Alleesun&lt;/span&gt; for her new name. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;Kneesaa&lt;/span&gt; wanted to keep her name because it was her siblings who named her, not her mother. She simply added my middle name to her name. (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;Kneesaa&lt;/span&gt; came from Star Wars, Princess &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;Kneesaa&lt;/span&gt; of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;Ewoks&lt;/span&gt;!) My 3 year old will keep part of his name, we already call him by his middle name. So his middle will become his first, and I'm giving him McKinley for a new middle name. My 8 year old worked with me on her name. She didn't want to keep her birth name, so she's taking &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;Cordia&lt;/span&gt; for a first name, and my best friend's name, Angelique, for a middle name, and we call her Annie. It's only my 2 year old who I have completely renamed myself. And it didn't turn out as I expected. I tried several of my favorites on him for about a month, and finally decided he was an Andrew. But the middle name was even harder. Who do I name him after? I chose the middle name of the man who was my father figure growing up, the person who if I were to be able to choose a father, it would have been him. I wanted to honor him, and his middle name goes well with Andrew, I think. Andrew Atkins.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know why names are such an obsession with me. They always have been. All my stuffed animals had carefully chosen names. I always renamed my Cabbage Patch dolls. (I had 16 of them.) I guess everyone has to have their thing, and this is mine.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-4413260493951614212?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/4413260493951614212/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=4413260493951614212&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/4413260493951614212'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/4413260493951614212'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2007/01/whats-in-name.html' title='What&apos;s in a Name?'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-7581591496479798263</id><published>2007-01-17T11:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-01-17T14:40:10.784-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hear No Evil</title><content type='html'>OK, so when I was younger, I always thought older people, or people who were parents were so uptight. I couldn't really understand their anal attitudes towards movie content and language. I grew up in a movie theatre, so to speak. My family ran the only theatre in a very small town. So I watched every movie that came our way. I believe I was about 10 the first time I saw "&lt;a href="http://www.rockyhorror.com/main.php"&gt;The Rocky Horror Picture Show&lt;/a&gt;". Big deal, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember "&lt;a href="http://timstvshowcase.com/gongshow.html"&gt;The Gong Show&lt;/a&gt;"? If so, do you remember "&lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0080808/"&gt;The Gong Show Movie&lt;/a&gt;"? I do. I was probably 8 or 9. My mom was married to Stormin' Norman: Bald Freak of the Sawtooths at the time. Anyway, my brothers and I were sitting up &lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_ETHxL86W5FI/Ra5r5WkTa8I/AAAAAAAAACs/5bAHgBZMvFo/s1600-h/chuck+barris.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5021069267619244994" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_ETHxL86W5FI/Ra5r5WkTa8I/AAAAAAAAACs/5bAHgBZMvFo/s200/chuck+barris.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;in the balcony (which was closed to the general public) watching this display of class when Norman came stormin' up the stairs and nearly dragged us out of the place. We were in an uproar. "Why can't we watch it? It's not like we haven't seen r heard any of this before!" We were all of 8, 10, and 13 at the time. As I became an adult my opinion about this really hadn't changed.  I figured, kids hear things at school, even on TV, so what's the big deal about them seeing and hearing it on movies?  I seemed to turn out OK, I don't think it will hurt them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, now, I have my own kids.  And, well, things have changed a little.  At first it wasn't so bad.  Annie was only 2 when I got her and didn't really seem to pick up and reuse much of what was being said around her.  So I didn't really think much about taking her to whatever movie we wanted to see.  Then I took her with us to see "&lt;a href="http://www.phoneboothmovie.com/index2.html"&gt;Phone Booth&lt;/a&gt;."  Have you seen it?  Not much to the dialogue...just the same few words over and over.  That's when I suddenly found myself becoming more sensitive to the language on our entertainment.  Then, as Annie got a bit older, and now I have two younger boys, I became even more sensitive.  Prime time TV doesn't come on in my home now until after 8:00 when the kids are in bed.  (Thank goodness for &lt;a href="http://www.tivo.com/2.0.boxes.step.1.asp"&gt;TIVO&lt;/a&gt;.)  I mean, I don't want to sound like a prude or anything, and I don't think I am.  I still like my cop shows, murder mysteries and such.  Blood and gore doesn't bother me.  But I'm finding it's not so good for the kiddos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My kids are all drug and alcohol effected, and have their own issues.  Annie, even though she was taken from her birth mom at 18 months, still at age 8 has nightmares about the violence she endured.  Maybe if my kids didn't already have their own special issues going on, I wouldn't be quite so sensitive.  But I've heard what certain expletives sound like coming from a 3-year-old's mouth (taught to him by his birth family), and it really isn't fun or funny. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where's all this going?  My kids and I like to have Family Movie Night on Friday nights.  I have an account with &lt;a href="http://www.netflix.com/"&gt;NetFlix&lt;/a&gt; so I never have to remember to go rent a movie, they just come in the mail each week like magic!  Last week I rented "&lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0187512/"&gt;She Gets What She Wants&lt;/a&gt;" thinking it would just be a fun teenie-bopper movie that the girls would love.  What it really was was an exercise in the many ways to say the B word.  I nearly turned it off, but we got through it.  My other mistake was letting them watch that volley ball movie, "&lt;a href="http://www.mtv.com/movies/movie/290882/moviemain.jhtml"&gt;All You've Got&lt;/a&gt;" on New Year's Eve.  Then, when Annie wanted to use her birthday money to buy it I had to sit down and explain what a mistake I'd made letting them watch it in the first place and that it would be several years before they were ready to see it again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't misread me here.  I'm not saying any of these movies are bad (I'm not saying they're good...I'm not saying either way.  But I will say I don't recommend "&lt;a href="http://www.phoneboothmovie.com/index2.html"&gt;Phone Booth&lt;/a&gt;" unless you just want to look at &lt;a href="http://members.shaw.ca/Jen_Smith/colin/"&gt;Colin Farrell&lt;/a&gt;...though he's got better movies you could look at him in.  OH, tangent.)  I'm just saying that something in my brain has changed, and now I find myself being more sensitive to what's said and shown in movies and on TV when my kids are watching.  Even the kid movies...we took the kids to see two movies on Monday, "&lt;a href="http://www.flushedaway.com/flash/index.html"&gt;Flushed Away&lt;/a&gt;" (which I do highly recommend for kids of all ages!) and "&lt;a href="http://www.sonypictures.com/movies/openseason/dvdmicrosite/"&gt;Open Season&lt;/a&gt;" (which was also very good) and by whatever coincidence, in both movies every deal was sealed by spitting on the hand and shaking.  Seems innocent enough.  Except that now I have to do this several times a day with my 3 year old.  Although this is NOT as bad as spitting out the sea water from "&lt;a href="http://www.triv.net/html/Quiz5/quiz8672.shtml"&gt;Madagascar&lt;/a&gt;"!  And definitely not as bad as &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0164912/"&gt;Stuart Little &lt;/a&gt;teaching him to say "WHAT THE..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, well, this has gone on long enough.  If you're still with me, thanks for stopping by!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-7581591496479798263?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/7581591496479798263/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=7581591496479798263&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/7581591496479798263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/7581591496479798263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2007/01/hear-no-evil.html' title='Hear No Evil'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_ETHxL86W5FI/Ra5r5WkTa8I/AAAAAAAAACs/5bAHgBZMvFo/s72-c/chuck+barris.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-6884453892398538003</id><published>2007-01-10T14:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-01-10T14:45:35.346-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tell Me Your Secret</title><content type='html'>I was lying in my bed last night thinking about all of you.  And I was wondering, where do you get the time for everything?  When I started blogging, I was writing 4 times a week.  And I was surfing on three different traffic generators just to get traffic.  I was working full time, and raising 6 kids.  And suddenly I was sacrificing everything else.  Those were the ONLY things I was doing.  Then I began missing things...like I love to read and used to whip through a coupld thick novels a week.  I also spent time with the kids and their hobbies.  We had family movie night and games and popcorn.  But it takes so much time to surf these traffic generators...who has time for anything else anymore?  So I'm making some changes.  I am not writing on my blogs as much.  I'm also not surfing as much.  And my blogs have felt the decline in traffic, but they will survive.  I need to read, and I need to spend time with my kids again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How is it that so many of you are able to do everything else AND blog?  What's the secret (besides buying credits)?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-6884453892398538003?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/6884453892398538003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=6884453892398538003&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/6884453892398538003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/6884453892398538003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2007/01/tell-me-your-secret.html' title='Tell Me Your Secret'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-8784429007804091106</id><published>2007-01-08T17:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-01-08T18:10:26.167-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I know it's been a week...</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;feel&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;should&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;be&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;shouting&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;this&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;across&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;the&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;universe&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;as&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;BSU&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;is&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;where &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;I &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;went &lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;to&lt;/span&gt; school&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;: &lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Boise &lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;State&lt;/span&gt; Broncos &lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;beat&lt;/span&gt; the &lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Oklahoma&lt;/span&gt; Sooners &lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;43&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;42&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;!&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-8784429007804091106?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/8784429007804091106/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=8784429007804091106&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/8784429007804091106'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/8784429007804091106'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2007/01/boise-state-broncos-beat-oklahoma.html' title='I know it&apos;s been a week...'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-2505570913367653737</id><published>2007-01-08T12:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-01-08T16:29:07.178-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Build or Remodel....the Dilema of the Day</title><content type='html'>One of the things I have to do for my family is find a way to get us in a bigger home. Right now, I'm thinking of just adding on to our current home, but am not sure the neighborhood association would allow us to do all we want to do. See, I need 3 more bedrooms, and two more bathrooms. Wow, writing it down sure makes it seem like a lot more than when I am just talking about it! Especially when I tell you we already have 4 bedrooms!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But just listen. Right now, my mom lives in the master and has her own bathroom, but my 3 year old sleeps in there with her. I live in one of the rooms with my youngest baby, he's two. I have a ten and a half year old girl, an eight year old girl and a four and a half year old girl sharing the large bonus room using two sets of bunk beds. And, a few years ago, we built a walk-in closet for that room that uses up some of our garage space. Then I have a near eighteen year old living alone in the last bedroom, with a set of bunk beds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The things that bother me and I want changed are as follows:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I hate sharing one bathroom with all the kids (six of them)!!! I need my own bathroom, it's the only reason I grew up, so I could get my own!!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My eight year old is my child, and I want her to have her own room, not continually have changing roommates like she does.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My ten and a half year old is a foster child, but will be with me until she ages out at eighteen, and so I would also like her to have her own space since this is her permanent home.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I need my own space and want my two year old out of my room. My mom also needs her own space and needs my three year old out of her room. The two boys could feasibly share a room!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The seventeen-near-eighteen year old has to go.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;So the plan for remodel would include building two bedrooms with a Jack-and-Jill bathroom and an open TV/sitting area above the garage side of the house, increasing the size of my room to make it a master suite adding a bathroom and office area, adding another bedroom on my side of the house, turning the small bedroom into a play room, and then enclosing the back patio to make a dining room so we can increase the size of our kitchen to a workable size.  Is that a lot for an addition/remodel?  I'd apply to Extreme Makeover, but I'm not sure I can make our story sad and tragic enough to be accepted!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And to build a house with everything we need...seems it would be awfully expensive!!  I don't know which way would be best financially.  What do you think?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-2505570913367653737?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/2505570913367653737/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=2505570913367653737&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/2505570913367653737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/2505570913367653737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2007/01/build-or-remodelthe-dilema-of-day.html' title='Build or Remodel....the Dilema of the Day'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-6364778141691833508</id><published>2007-01-03T11:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-01-03T14:21:26.313-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Need a New Picture</title><content type='html'>So I have another blog called &lt;a href="http://arstories.blogspot.com/"&gt;Tales from the Angel Retreat&lt;/a&gt; and I take distant pics of my kids for the header. But I don't know what to do for January. It's dreary and inversiony here, the kids are back at school, any ideas? I'm asking for help. Let me know if you can think of something fun and creative for a January header. Thanks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what else? Um, I'm back at work. I made a New Year's resolution, did you? I resolved to write a book...the one I have an idea for, and have written like two paragraphs of. I never finish stories, how am I going to finish a whole book? I need to do this. I finally finished college (a year and a half ago) and it felt great to accomplish something...now I need to do this. I guess I'm just not really a very goal oriented person. Does that mean I'm pretty well content with my life, or just lazy? Probably the latter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I talked before about my mom, and how scared she is about whatever is wrong with her right now. Well, she still hasn't gone to the doctor, and I can't seem to get her to go. I think she's even more scared than I'd originally thought. But at this point, she can hardly breathe...fluid builds up around her lungs and restricts her ability to breathe...and she needs to get it taken care of. I don't know why she hasn't put this at the top of her priority list. If she still hasn't called them today, I'm going to kidnap her and take her to the quick care just to get the ball rolling at least. With all her problems, you'd think she'd be the last person to let something like this go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll sign off now. Thanks for reading!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table style="BORDER-RIGHT: gray 5px solid; BORDER-TOP: gray 5px solid; FONT: 12px arial, verdana, sans-serif; BORDER-LEFT: gray 5px solid; WIDTH: 320px; BORDER-BOTTOM: gray 5px solid; BACKGROUND-COLOR: white"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="PADDING-RIGHT: 5px; PADDING-LEFT: 5px; BACKGROUND: white; PADDING-BOTTOM: 5px; COLOR: black; PADDING-TOP: 5px" colspan="2"&gt;&lt;b style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN-BOTTOM: 8px; FONT: bold 20px 'Times New Roman', serif"&gt;What Kind of Reader Are You?&lt;/b&gt; &lt;div style="FONT-SIZE: 16px; MARGIN-BOTTOM: 4px"&gt;Your Result: &lt;b&gt;Literate Good Citizen&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="BORDER-RIGHT: black 1px solid; BORDER-TOP: black 1px solid; BACKGROUND: white; BORDER-LEFT: black 1px solid; WIDTH: 200px; BORDER-BOTTOM: black 1px solid"&gt;&lt;div style="FONT-SIZE: 8px; BACKGROUND: red; WIDTH: 63%; LINE-HEIGHT: 8px"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: white; MARGIN: 10px; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; COLOR: black; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none"&gt;You read to inform or entertain yourself, but you're not nerdy about it. You've read most major classics (in school) and you have a favorite genre or two.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="PADDING-RIGHT: 3px; PADDING-LEFT: 3px; BACKGROUND: white; PADDING-BOTTOM: 3px; COLOR: black; PADDING-TOP: 3px"&gt;Dedicated Reader&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="PADDING-RIGHT: 3px; PADDING-LEFT: 3px; BACKGROUND: white; PADDING-BOTTOM: 3px; PADDING-TOP: 3px"&gt;&lt;div style="BORDER-RIGHT: black 1px solid; BORDER-TOP: black 1px solid; MARGIN-TOP: 4px; BACKGROUND: white; BORDER-LEFT: black 1px solid; WIDTH: 100px; BORDER-BOTTOM: black 1px solid"&gt;&lt;div style="FONT-SIZE: 8px; BACKGROUND: red; WIDTH: 62%; LINE-HEIGHT: 8px"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="PADDING-RIGHT: 3px; PADDING-LEFT: 3px; BACKGROUND: white; PADDING-BOTTOM: 3px; COLOR: black; PADDING-TOP: 3px"&gt;Book Snob&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="PADDING-RIGHT: 3px; PADDING-LEFT: 3px; BACKGROUND: white; PADDING-BOTTOM: 3px; PADDING-TOP: 3px"&gt;&lt;div style="BORDER-RIGHT: black 1px solid; BORDER-TOP: black 1px solid; MARGIN-TOP: 4px; BACKGROUND: white; BORDER-LEFT: black 1px solid; WIDTH: 100px; BORDER-BOTTOM: black 1px solid"&gt;&lt;div style="FONT-SIZE: 8px; BACKGROUND: red; WIDTH: 59%; LINE-HEIGHT: 8px"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="PADDING-RIGHT: 3px; PADDING-LEFT: 3px; BACKGROUND: white; PADDING-BOTTOM: 3px; COLOR: black; PADDING-TOP: 3px"&gt;Obsessive-Compulsive Bookworm&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="PADDING-RIGHT: 3px; PADDING-LEFT: 3px; BACKGROUND: white; PADDING-BOTTOM: 3px; PADDING-TOP: 3px"&gt;&lt;div style="BORDER-RIGHT: black 1px solid; BORDER-TOP: black 1px solid; MARGIN-TOP: 4px; BACKGROUND: white; BORDER-LEFT: black 1px solid; WIDTH: 100px; BORDER-BOTTOM: black 1px solid"&gt;&lt;div style="FONT-SIZE: 8px; BACKGROUND: red; WIDTH: 51%; LINE-HEIGHT: 8px"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="PADDING-RIGHT: 3px; PADDING-LEFT: 3px; BACKGROUND: white; PADDING-BOTTOM: 3px; COLOR: black; PADDING-TOP: 3px"&gt;Fad Reader&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="PADDING-RIGHT: 3px; PADDING-LEFT: 3px; BACKGROUND: white; PADDING-BOTTOM: 3px; PADDING-TOP: 3px"&gt;&lt;div style="BORDER-RIGHT: black 1px solid; BORDER-TOP: black 1px solid; MARGIN-TOP: 4px; BACKGROUND: white; BORDER-LEFT: black 1px solid; WIDTH: 100px; BORDER-BOTTOM: black 1px solid"&gt;&lt;div style="FONT-SIZE: 8px; BACKGROUND: red; WIDTH: 25%; LINE-HEIGHT: 8px"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="PADDING-RIGHT: 3px; PADDING-LEFT: 3px; BACKGROUND: white; PADDING-BOTTOM: 3px; COLOR: black; PADDING-TOP: 3px"&gt;Non-Reader&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="PADDING-RIGHT: 3px; PADDING-LEFT: 3px; BACKGROUND: white; PADDING-BOTTOM: 3px; PADDING-TOP: 3px"&gt;&lt;div style="BORDER-RIGHT: black 1px solid; BORDER-TOP: black 1px solid; MARGIN-TOP: 4px; BACKGROUND: white; BORDER-LEFT: black 1px solid; WIDTH: 100px; BORDER-BOTTOM: black 1px solid"&gt;&lt;div style="FONT-SIZE: 8px; BACKGROUND: red; WIDTH: 0%; LINE-HEIGHT: 8px"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="PADDING-RIGHT: 8px; PADDING-LEFT: 8px; PADDING-BOTTOM: 8px; PADDING-TOP: 8px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" colspan="2"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.gotoquiz.com/what_kind_of_reader_are_you"&gt;&lt;b&gt;What Kind of Reader Are You?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.gotoquiz.com/"&gt;Create Your Own Quiz&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-6364778141691833508?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/6364778141691833508/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=6364778141691833508&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/6364778141691833508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/6364778141691833508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2007/01/i-need-new-picture.html' title='I Need a New Picture'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-3330915287732483862</id><published>2006-12-19T11:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-12-19T11:52:31.561-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What Scares You?</title><content type='html'>Have you ever been so scared about the possibility of something that you just didn't talk about it hoping it would go away?  I didn't know I was this kind of person, but apparently I am.  Twice this year there have been things that scared me so bad, I just kept them to myself waiting for them to dissipate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See, I smoked for a very long time, and I quit two years ago.  (I must be honest, I miss it...terribly sometimes!)  But I did it for my kids, and it's the first time quitting has worked.  Probably because they mean more to me than I ever thought one person could mean to another.  So here I sit, a somewhat new non-smoker.  Then I started having trouble breathing.  I noticed that just walking across the building at work to the mail room or another office was putting me completely out of breathe.  Carrying my 3 year old to bed put me out for ten minutes.  I got a little worried.  I started researching the different symptoms I was noticing.  And I diagnosed myself with lung cancer.  Yup, I figured it out, and I started worrying about my kids and what would happen to them when I died.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I couldn't talk about it with anyone.  I was too scared of it, and I didn't want it to be real.  I'm a relatively healthy person, and I wasn't prepared to have something serious wrong with me.  But it finally got too bad that my family was starting to worry about my shortness of breath.  So I went to the doctor.  I didn't mention the cancer, and I down played the symptoms to him, hoping he wouldn't go there.  And actually, the first thing he ruled out was cancer.  Of course, then he started to worry about my heart...not much of a consolation!!  So he ran tests and did x-rays and such.  It cost me a fortune to find out I have a touch of asthma.  Afterword, I felt stupid for being so scared and not talking about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then here I am again, so scared about something, I don't want to talk about it.  Unfortunately, my mom mentioned it the other night, so my fears are out there again, making things more real.  See, my mom can't work because of a lot of health problems she has.  But of all the things wrong with her, they aren't fatal.  So she's been living with me for about 9 years now.  The last month or so, I've started to notice she's losing weight.  She's not a big person, and can't really afford to lose weight.  You know what my first thought was...cancer, again.  She's also been kinda sick a lot this fall.  You know, a cough, a cold, nausea...  Then the other night she said something about her weight.  She also told me she gets shooting pains in her left breast, and now there's a hard spot.  I know I'm right this time, and I want to be so wrong.  And she's worse than me...she probably won't go to the doctor until they take her away in an ambulance! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why can't I face these things?  I spend my life helping kids face their fears and become healthy, stable people, but I can't acknowledge my own fears.  I can't stand up and fight my own scares head on.  What kind of role model am I for these kids after all?  Please God, make it not be cancer this time too!!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-3330915287732483862?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/3330915287732483862/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=3330915287732483862&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/3330915287732483862'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/3330915287732483862'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2006/12/what-scares-you.html' title='What Scares You?'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-4480827446206093273</id><published>2006-12-14T09:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-12-14T14:15:15.090-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Something I've Observed About Myself...</title><content type='html'>As the years go by, I'm less and less motivated to wrap Christmas gifts. Don't get me wrong, I love all the pretty packages, and watching the kiddos unwrap and see the surprise on their faces. And in our family, we have Christmas color themes. This year every thing is decorated in silver and gold, and all the gifts are wrapped in silver and gold. It's absolutely beautiful!! The colors for this year wer&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ETHxL86W5FI/RYGHP2Z0v1I/AAAAAAAAACc/CkVeiUjJdGc/s1600-h/J0341455.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5008432966984318802" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ETHxL86W5FI/RYGHP2Z0v1I/AAAAAAAAACc/CkVeiUjJdGc/s200/J0341455.JPG" border="1" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;e picked last year so we could buy all our gift wrap on sale after Christ&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_ETHxL86W5FI/RYGHImZ0v0I/AAAAAAAAACU/uahI1BnYW9Q/s1600-h/J0382925.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5008432842430267202" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_ETHxL86W5FI/RYGHImZ0v0I/AAAAAAAAACU/uahI1BnYW9Q/s200/J0382925.JPG" border="1" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;mas. We found a TON of silver paper and gold paper at Wally World, and now, as the gifts are being wrapped and put under the tree, it's magical. And my mom, Granny, gets the real ribbon and makes beautiful bows on all the presents. People scoff at our tradition until they see the affect. You'd be amazed. We've had color combos like pink and purple (that was gross), black and gold for the Idaho Vandals, maroon and gold for the 49ers, silver and blue for the Cowboys, black and white (one of the most beautiful), green and white for my senior year in high school, brown and blue (you'd be amazed how pretty that was), white paper with red and white checked gingham ribbon, blue and yellow, red and blue for another senior year for one of my girls, baby blue and white...you name it, we've had it. (Next year is pink and orange...I'm not sure how that's going to turn out, but I have found tree decorations already, and it might not be too bad.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, back to my issue. I don't want to wrap anything. I'm not a crafty person, and by my own admission, I'm domestically challenged. The only thing I do well around the house is yard work. I grow beautiful roses and lilacs. But scissors, tape, markers, bows...I'm not good at it. It just seems so tedious. I didn't used to be this bad, but this year I don't want any part of it. Not that it's getting me out of doing it. I've just never been quite this lethargic when it come to wrapping. Is it old age? It's not a decline in the joy of the season, cuz I love it as much as ever!! I need an elf to come sprinkle magic dust on me to make me want to do this so I can get it done. With the number of people in my house, and the number coming for Christmas this year, I've got a lot to wrap. I've got 7 kids right now, and I have 7 extra people coming for Christmas, so there will be 16 people. That's a lot of gifts under our tree that need to be wrapped. I guess I should get off this computer and start wrapping huh?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, that's my observation for today. Remember to give of your heart...donate to my site to give a wonderful Christmas to foster kids!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6447/4152/1600/donation%20plea%203.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6447/4152/320/donation%20plea%203.png" border="3" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe the test I just took explains a little about me. Try it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2" width="350" align="center" border="5"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="middle"  style="color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;You Are 15% Left Brained, 85% Right Brained&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#eeeeee"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img height="100" src="http://images.blogthings.com/areyourightorleftbrainedquiz/brain.jpg" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The left side of your brain controls verbal ability, attention to detail, and reasoning.&lt;br /&gt;Left brained people are good at communication and persuading others.&lt;br /&gt;If you're left brained, you are likely good at math and logic.&lt;br /&gt;Your left brain prefers dogs, reading, and quiet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The right side of your brain is all about creativity and flexibility.&lt;br /&gt;Daring and intuitive, right brained people see the world in their unique way.&lt;br /&gt;If you're right brained, you likely have a talent for creative writing and art.&lt;br /&gt;Your right brain prefers day dreaming, philosophy, and sports.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/areyourightorleftbrainedquiz/"&gt;Are You Right or Left Brained?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-4480827446206093273?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/4480827446206093273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=4480827446206093273&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/4480827446206093273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/4480827446206093273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2006/12/something-ive-observed-about-myself.html' title='Something I&apos;ve Observed About Myself...'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_ETHxL86W5FI/RYGHP2Z0v1I/AAAAAAAAACc/CkVeiUjJdGc/s72-c/J0341455.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-9206186619478927650</id><published>2006-12-13T10:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-12-13T11:06:35.180-07:00</updated><title type='text'>School Christmas Programs</title><content type='html'>Last night my 10-year-old had her Christmas program for school. Now, this is how I remember doing it...the school's music teacher would spend a month teaching each class the song's they were going to sing. About a week before the program, she would start having all the students from one grade practice together in the gym. A day or two before, the whole school would have practices together in the gym. The program would consist of every student in the school standing on those bleacher things at one end of the gym and the parents sitting in chairs lined up in rows throughout the rest of the gym. And it was fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's how they do it here. Only the 3rd thru 5th graders are involved in the Christmas program. (K thru 2nd have a Spring program.) The kids practice for a month, then the day of the program, they go to the place where it will be held (a building at the local university) and practice all day with all the other 3rd thru 5th graders in the city. That night, they have one HUGE 2 1/2 long program with every 3rd, 4th and 5th grader in the city and all their families. This is crazy, long, and horrible for all of us who have more than one child. Why do I want to sit and watch kids from 10 other schools who I don't know for 2 1/2 hours? Let's be honest, the best part of these programs is seeing your own kid, not the quality of entertainment. Besides, I'd rather watch my 2nd grader, &amp; my 5th grader, and all the other kids I know from OUR school give a 1 hour program twice a year than watch all these stranger's kids for 2 1/2 hours twice a year. (I'll have to go to the Spring concert set up the same way but with all the city's K thru 2nd graders.) Besides, I know my 2nd grader would have thoroughly enjoyed being part of the Christmas program as well, she loves holiday music!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me tell you how much my 2, 3, 4, and 5 year olds enjoyed this whole thing. They didn't. They spent most of the time in the lobby with many many other frustrated parents with little ones. This city is not huge, but it is much too large for this type of venture. It's time to rethink school programs. Oh, and to even further my confidence in the school district's event planning abilities, my 17-year-old had her choir concert last night same time, different place. Ridiculous! (Although, I guess they don't expect families to have children in just about every grade, do they. :-) I can't help it, I'm a foster parent, I don't have control over the age range of my kids.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, that's my observation for today. Remember to give of your heart...donate to my site to give a wonderful Christmas to foster kids!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6447/4152/1600/donation%20plea%203.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6447/4152/320/donation%20plea%203.png" border="3" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-9206186619478927650?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/9206186619478927650/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=9206186619478927650&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/9206186619478927650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/9206186619478927650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2006/12/school-christmas-programs.html' title='School Christmas Programs'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-9196071790825854950</id><published>2006-12-11T16:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-12-12T14:11:18.117-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Back</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Well, surgery wasn't so bad, it's what comes after that sucks! I was virtually ignored in the hospital by the nurses, tank goodness I wasn't more critical!! And then I got home and got very sick.&lt;br /&gt;I had a staph infection in one of the laproscopy sites.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;EWWWWWW!!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See, I kept running a high fever, so I went into my doctor's office, and they took blood and stuff, took the staples out of the incision sites, and sent me home. A few hours later, the whole front of my shirt was soaked in puss and blood. And talk about stink! That was the staph infection. Doc said drainage was good, we wanted to get it all out...but he didn't have to smell it! And he gave me antibiotics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here I am a week later, and the infection is about gone. Most of the aches are gone too, though there are still some. But what gets me is that I still get so tired so fast. It seems like if you feel better, you should be better. But getting back to work Monday, I was only 3 hours in and was ready to go back to bed. I'm sure by the time we close down for Christmas, I'll be back to normal! :-) (That's on the 22nd and goes through the 2nd of January!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#660000;"&gt;Story Idea!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;I have an idea drumming around in my head, and I'd like to go with it. I don't really want to tell you what it is, but I had to say it in hopes that it would get me moving on actually writing again. It's been so long since I had any creative flashes...we're talking years...I thought it was over for me. So nag me about it so I'll start getting it down on paper...well computer scree&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_ETHxL86W5FI/RX8ap3Oz2ZI/AAAAAAAAAAM/XGYTVqNzbbo/s1600-h/christmas+reindeer.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5007750617162307986" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_ETHxL86W5FI/RX8ap3Oz2ZI/AAAAAAAAAAM/XGYTVqNzbbo/s200/christmas+reindeer.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;n...and maybe something will come of it for a change.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And hey, to all of you out there: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#990000;"&gt;HAPPY &lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;HOLIDAYS&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you are looking for a way to be charitable this holiday season, donate to my site and all donated funds will go to buy Christmas presents for kids on the Giving Tree. These are all the foster kids in my region in Idaho. We hope to give them all a wonderful holiday!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-9196071790825854950?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/9196071790825854950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=9196071790825854950&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/9196071790825854950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/9196071790825854950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2006/12/im-back.html' title='I&apos;m Back'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ETHxL86W5FI/RX8ap3Oz2ZI/AAAAAAAAAAM/XGYTVqNzbbo/s72-c/christmas+reindeer.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-3856966894070987023</id><published>2006-11-29T08:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-29T09:18:46.868-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This, That, and the Other</title><content type='html'>Tomorrow's the day! I've known for a long time now that I will never have my own biological children, but when I went to my pre-op appointment on Monday and was signing all the consents, and the nurse said, now this was says that you know you'll never be able to have children again, it kind of hit a cord. I haven't been outwardly sad about this for years, but I wanted to cry when she said that. I mean, even if I don't have the surgery, I can't have kids; that's been established. But it made me sad all over again to hear someone else say it like this surgery is what will make it impossible to happen. Anyway, boohoo...remember, this surgery is a &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#993399;"&gt;GOOD&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; thing. No more god-awful cramps, no more vomiting, headaches, no more mess...that's the reason we're doing this!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moving on...it's &lt;span style="font-family:chiller;font-size:180%;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;COLD&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; outside! My windows were so frosted I couldn't even scrape them this morning. What a waste of gas to have to have the defroster help me scrape the windows! And we don't even have any snow yet. I mean, all the ski mountains are opening up, but down here it's just dry, bleak, and cold...frozen. I miss living in snow country.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was a kid in the Ketchum-Sun Valley area in Idaho, we had &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc6600;"&gt;TONS&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; of snow. We have this picture of my brother and me inside a tunnel we'd dug from our front porch to the road. The snow was so deep, we could safely slide off our roof into the yard. My brothers would shovel the snow off the roof (to keep it from caving in) so we'd have huge piles of snow in front of the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One winter, we couldn't see out the front windows into the street, and I remember looking up at the top of the pile, and our dog, Pepsi (so named so my mom would let us keep him!) was standing up there throwing a frisbee high into the air with his mouth and catching it just to throw it up again. He looked as if he felt he were the king of the mountain. And I guess at the time, he was. What great memories snow has for me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, before I go, I need to plug the Giving Tree. Go to my other blog, &lt;a href="http://arstories.blogspot.com"&gt;"Tales from the Angel Retreat"&lt;/a&gt; and use the donation button to give to the Giving Tree, a project to buy gifts for foster children. I'll try to get a donation button on this blog today so you can give here too. All donations to both sites from now until Christmas will go to the tree. Thank you for giving!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Merry&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt; Christmas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Happy Hanukkah&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;Happy Kwanzaa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;, and&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#990000;"&gt;Season's Greetings&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#33ff33;"&gt;to all!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-3856966894070987023?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/3856966894070987023/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=3856966894070987023&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/3856966894070987023'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/3856966894070987023'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2006/11/tomorrows-day-ive-known-for-long-time.html' title='This, That, and the Other'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-8776914600159143356</id><published>2006-11-28T08:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-28T08:55:17.121-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Holidays are in Full Swing Now!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6447/4152/1600/donation%20plea%203.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6447/4152/320/donation%20plea%203.png" border="3" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, we survived Thanksgiving, only to have everyone in the house get sick for the weekend. It started with the baby. (He's almost 2.) He seems to be a carrier, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;cuz&lt;/span&gt; I never got sick as much as I have since he's been with us. He came to me when he was 8 months old. Last winter, I had a flu shot as usual, and I got some kind of stomach virus about 4 times. This year, I've had my flu shot again, and last weekend we all got some kind of stomach virus. Luckily, it was a 24-hour thing, but unfortunately, only one person got it at a time. So first it was him, then my 7 year old, then the 5 year old, then the 3 year old, then me and my mom. We washed more sheets last weekend than we normally wash in a week. (Some had to be washed more than once.) So our usual Christmas decorating fun was kind of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;hodge&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;podge&lt;/span&gt;. I pulled everything out of the garage Friday. I got the lights all up outside. Saturday evening we set up the tree and the kids decorated it in this year's colors, gold and silver. Most of the boxes were put back in the garage Sunday. My mom's part, the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;nick&lt;/span&gt;-knacks, were about half done yesterday, and a few more boxes put back in the garage. Great fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On another topic. I know I just started this blog, but I have to go away for a week. I'm having surgery in two days and will incapacitated for a week. I know you'll miss me. But it's finally time to face the truth, I'll never be able to have children of my own, and there's no use continuing on with the pain I go through each month, so it's all coming out. Thank God for my foster and adopted kiddos! They make facing this a little easier. Wish me luck! See ya later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, before I forget, go to my other blog &lt;a href="http://arstories.blogspot.com/"&gt;"Tale from the Angel Retreat"&lt;/a&gt; and donate to the kids. Give it about 40 seconds to load (I can't figure out why it's so slow) and use the "Make a Donation" button. We're collecting gifts for foster kids in our area of Idaho, and your support could go a long way!! Thank you so much!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-8776914600159143356?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/8776914600159143356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=8776914600159143356&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/8776914600159143356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/8776914600159143356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2006/11/holidays-are-in-full-swing-now.html' title='The Holidays are in Full Swing Now!'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-3010504547603131082</id><published>2006-11-22T09:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-22T10:13:14.082-07:00</updated><title type='text'>OK Scrooges, Time to Shape Up the Attitude!</title><content type='html'>Something I've never really understood is bad attitudes about the Holidays. I realize there are certain factors that may make the Holidays hard, for &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;SOME&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, but not for all. For instance, one of my best friends, who was my roommate for 5 years, always &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;HATED&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Christmas. She'd get all mopey and depressed. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#000099;"&gt;BUT SHE HAD NO REASON TO DO SO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. Nothing traumatic had happened in her life, nobody died during this time of year, or really ever. (She's one of those lucky people who hasn't had family members die tragically, or out of order.) Her family all celebrated Christmas with their own special traditions, and seemed to love the season. So why did she hate it? She couldn't tell you. She just acted depressed because it's become the trend. People think they are being SO cool by being scrooges, by acting depressed, just because it's Christmas. Get a life!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is so uncool about loving traditions? About celebrating something? In my family, Christmas is all about the family, love, togetherness. We celebrate having one-another and loving and being loved. We have specific traditions we follow each year because we love them. I love taking my kids caroling in December, and they love it, and our neighbors love it. How wonderful it is to take them around the city to look at all the lights and decorations, to see their faces light up and the smiles on their faces. Our home is filled with joy that lingers most of the year because this is the time we come together and solidify that we are a family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If loving this season makes me a geek, so be it. I'll take the label, I don't care. If you're going to get all pissed off because the stores are starting to sell stuff for the holiday before Thanksgiving, then obviously you have no real worries in your life, because, does it really hurt you or affect the rest of your life if you walk into a store and see holly and berries, wreaths, and hear jingle bells? Would you melt if you just let yourself enjoy life a little instead of constantly looking for things to complain about? Besides, with all the complaints about the holidays I've seen online, I've also noticed that a whole lot of you have already switched your blog templates to holiday themes...and it's not even Thanksgiving yet!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#990000;"&gt;Be happy, Santa Claus is coming to town!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-3010504547603131082?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/3010504547603131082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=3010504547603131082&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/3010504547603131082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/3010504547603131082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2006/11/ok-scrooges-time-to-shape-up-attitude.html' title='OK Scrooges, Time to Shape Up the Attitude!'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-7052461949587500946</id><published>2006-11-21T10:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-21T10:26:18.362-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting it all Set Up!</title><content type='html'>Have you joined Technorati yet?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.technorati.com/claim/whuttfc23v" rel="me"&gt;Technorati Profile&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-7052461949587500946?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/7052461949587500946/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=7052461949587500946&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/7052461949587500946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/7052461949587500946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2006/11/getting-it-all-set-up.html' title='Getting it all Set Up!'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153218611301574631.post-1489475900613838780</id><published>2006-11-21T08:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-21T08:57:31.364-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My First Post</title><content type='html'>Well, I decided to try putting up another site.  The other one, Tales from the Angel Retreat (visit me at &lt;a href="http://arstories.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://arstories.blogspot.com&lt;/a&gt;) is mostly just about my life as a foster parent.  I think I wanted to try another one where I felt like I could just talk about other things that come to mind.  We'll see how this goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this being my first post and all, I thought I'd introduce myself a little more than I did on Tales.  My name is Kelly.  I live in Idaho, USA.  My degree is in education, I work for a university, and I don't teach.  However, I do have a bit of expertise in writing, so might spend some time on here once in a while talking about writing.  I keep thinking about getting my master's, but tell me, am I the only person out there who is about middle-aged, has a degree, and still doesn't really know what I want to do when I grow up? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ten years ago my mom had a bad accident, and can no longer work.  I was living in New Mexico at the time, and loving it.  But she couldn't live alone anymore, and I offered that she come live with me.  We actually live together well.  After a few years, she really wanted to come home to Idaho, and I conceded.  I miss New Mexico &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;A LOT&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, but I love my mom and family more than the state, so I'm OK being here.  What is weird about living with her, though, is that I feel like a child most of the time.  I can't seem to get past this.  I look at friends of mine who have families and are living like 30 somethings, adults, and I feel like I haven't grown up.  This is something I need to fix in my life.  And it's all about me, nobody is making me feel this way, I just can't seem to make myself a full-fledged adult when I'm at home with my mom - and I have several children!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this is me.  Next time I'm going to talk about all you scrooges out there, cuz I think you need an attitude adjustment!  It's no longer trendy to hate the holiday season!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#993300;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Happy Thanksgiving!!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9153218611301574631-1489475900613838780?l=seasonalallergies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/feeds/1489475900613838780/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9153218611301574631&amp;postID=1489475900613838780&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/1489475900613838780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9153218611301574631/posts/default/1489475900613838780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonalallergies.blogspot.com/2006/11/my-first-post.html' title='My First Post'/><author><name>PandasJr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02588178679703989720</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5956/3742/1600/Angels%20Welcome.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
