<?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-20501287</id><updated>2011-11-27T19:17:47.660-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome to Heathenville</title><subtitle type='html'>All the latest happenings in Heathenville.  As the mother of three Heathens, I'll share all the dirt-both literally and figuratively-about life as a mom and Navy wife trapped in the wilds of Washington state.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>189</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-1721626306473731257</id><published>2010-11-28T11:32:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-28T11:44:37.614-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas Pictures-the Good, the Bad and the Ugly</title><content type='html'>Yes, it's that time of year again.  It's the time I dread with all my being.  It's time for our annual family Christmas pictures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You'd think it would be easy, wouldn't you?  Just plop the kids down in front of the tree, tell them to smile and take the damn picture, right?  Wrong! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It never fails.  Never.  My kids are not cooperative in front of a camera.  Someone is always giving someone else bunny ears (Aaron!) and someone else has a cheesy little grin on her face (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Marissah&lt;/span&gt;!).  Someone else refuses to smile at all (Micah!).   this year I was lucky.  I only had  to  take seven pictures before getting a decent shot.  Praise the Lord!  One year I had them posed for over an HOUR and didn't get a single decent picture.  Of course, then Mike stepped in, took two shots and had a great photo.  :P &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last year we had a true family picture for our Christmas cards-Mom, Dad and kids.  We opted to leave the dog out because he hates to sit still.  this year it will just be a picture of the kids, in front of the tree they decorated themselves (they did a great job!), all wearing their Minnesota Vikings gear.  they look adorable, if I do say so myself.  And everyone smiled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm ordering my Christmas cards from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Shutterfly&lt;/span&gt; this year, just like I did last year.  Only difference is, this year I'm getting them free for writing this blog.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;LOL&lt;/span&gt;  Check them out-I know you'll be pleased with the quality-I always am!  &lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:worddocument&gt;   &lt;w:view&gt;Normal&lt;/w:View&gt;   &lt;w:zoom&gt;0&lt;/w:Zoom&gt;   &lt;w:trackmoves/&gt;   &lt;w:trackformatting/&gt;   &lt;w:punctuationkerning/&gt;   &lt;w:validateagainstschemas/&gt;   &lt;w:saveifxmlinvalid&gt;false&lt;/w:SaveIfXMLInvalid&gt;   &lt;w:ignoremixedcontent&gt;false&lt;/w:IgnoreMixedContent&gt;   &lt;w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext&gt;false&lt;/w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText&gt;   &lt;w:donotpromoteqf/&gt;   &lt;w:lidthemeother&gt;EN-US&lt;/w:LidThemeOther&gt;   &lt;w:lidthemeasian&gt;X-NONE&lt;/w:LidThemeAsian&gt;   &lt;w:lidthemecomplexscript&gt;X-NONE&lt;/w:LidThemeComplexScript&gt;   &lt;w:compatibility&gt;    &lt;w:breakwrappedtables/&gt;    &lt;w:snaptogridincell/&gt;    &lt;w:wraptextwithpunct/&gt; 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I never know what's going to come out of that little mouth next (sometimes it's really bad), but I asked him why anyway. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well," he started.  "First I would have to learn how to throw a pie at someone without hurting them.  Then, I'd have to learn how to ride a unicycle!  Then, I'd have to learn how to walk in those big shoes.  I'd have to put make-up on.  And &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;then&lt;/span&gt;, I'd have to buy a red nose, too!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I guess I can breathe a sigh of relief.  He won't be attending clown school when he grows up &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;after all&lt;/span&gt;!  ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-8265382429188370557?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/8265382429188370557/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=8265382429188370557' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/8265382429188370557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/8265382429188370557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2010/03/why-aaron-doesnt-want-to-be-clown.html' title='Why Aaron Doesn&apos;t Want to be a Clown'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-1390742847797168225</id><published>2009-09-01T21:01:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-01T21:05:32.524-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Almost Time!</title><content type='html'>Almost time for what?  SCHOOL!  Woo &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;hoo&lt;/span&gt;!  The little heathens have their supplies and brand-new backpacks and are ready to head to school next Tuesday (Wednesday for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Marissah&lt;/span&gt;).  Today we had Micah's open house/registration.  We got his locker combination (works like a charm) and his schedule and met most of his teachers.  He got his picture taken and looked so handsome. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Marissah's&lt;/span&gt; registration was last week.  She's taking French, Biology, History, Algebra, English and Science of Flight (Jr ROTC).  We are happy campers!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aaron will be in class with Mrs. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Hubenthal&lt;/span&gt; and Ms. Fay this year, but he's not as excited to go back as &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Marissah&lt;/span&gt; and Micah are.  &lt;g&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mommy starts school for Medical Coding on September 21.  Wish me luck-it's been more than a couple years since I was in school!  It's an online program, though, so no classrooms for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-1390742847797168225?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/1390742847797168225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=1390742847797168225' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/1390742847797168225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/1390742847797168225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2009/09/its-almost-time.html' title='It&apos;s Almost Time!'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-4001531494253773573</id><published>2009-08-11T17:15:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-11T17:18:06.241-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Heathenville Navy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/SoHttQsTDGI/AAAAAAAAAD4/kF1aFPuVvbY/s1600-h/heathenvillefleet.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/SoHttQsTDGI/AAAAAAAAAD4/kF1aFPuVvbY/s200/heathenvillefleet.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368833592633003106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here it is, the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Heathenville&lt;/span&gt; Navy's fleet of fighter jets.  Commander of the squadron, Admiral Aaron, has been busy making and decorating his planes all day long.  It's good to know &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Heathenville&lt;/span&gt; has it's own fighting force at the ready.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-4001531494253773573?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/4001531494253773573/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=4001531494253773573' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/4001531494253773573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/4001531494253773573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2009/08/heathenville-navy.html' title='The Heathenville Navy'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/SoHttQsTDGI/AAAAAAAAAD4/kF1aFPuVvbY/s72-c/heathenvillefleet.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-3206624150826987753</id><published>2009-08-11T17:10:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-11T17:14:49.199-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Weekly Reads</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/SoHtR1vomGI/AAAAAAAAADw/q6V_82MEl38/s1600-h/811reads.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/SoHtR1vomGI/AAAAAAAAADw/q6V_82MEl38/s200/811reads.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368833121542772834" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read four excellent books this week.  They were all so good, in fact, that I can't choose a favorite.  If you're looking for a good serial killer novel, you can't go wrong with "The Scarecrow" by Michael &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Connelly&lt;/span&gt;.  If you're looking to sample another culture, try "A Nail Through the Heart" by Timothy &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Hallinan&lt;/span&gt;.  For all forensics, all the time it's Kathy &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Reichs&lt;/span&gt;' "Devil Bones."  And last, but certainly not least, Lily &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Burana's&lt;/span&gt; "I Love a Man in Uniform" is the memoir of a former stripper who marries an Army officer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-3206624150826987753?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/3206624150826987753/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=3206624150826987753' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/3206624150826987753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/3206624150826987753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2009/08/weekly-reads_11.html' title='Weekly Reads'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/SoHtR1vomGI/AAAAAAAAADw/q6V_82MEl38/s72-c/811reads.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-6143891341157684777</id><published>2009-08-04T13:37:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-04T13:40:30.640-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Weekly Reads</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/SniAEukuRqI/AAAAAAAAADo/KWg2vWnLy20/s1600-h/84reads.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/SniAEukuRqI/AAAAAAAAADo/KWg2vWnLy20/s200/84reads.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366179774721836706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you sick of seeing my weekly reads yet?  If you are, don't bother to check my blog on Tuesdays.  :) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another week of great reads here in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Heathenville&lt;/span&gt;!  My favorite read of the week was Jon &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Krakauer's&lt;/span&gt; "Into Thin Air."  This book, published in 1997, is about &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Krakauer's&lt;/span&gt; experience climbing Mount Everest in 1996, the year 12 people died on the mountain in one day.  It was a fantastic book, highly recommended, even if you don't care at all about mountain climbing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-6143891341157684777?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/6143891341157684777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=6143891341157684777' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/6143891341157684777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/6143891341157684777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2009/08/weekly-reads.html' title='Weekly Reads'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/SniAEukuRqI/AAAAAAAAADo/KWg2vWnLy20/s72-c/84reads.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-5563044699836430979</id><published>2009-07-31T12:28:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-31T12:36:10.549-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hangin' at the River</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/SnMrJYOs8yI/AAAAAAAAADg/2vE706jYWyk/s1600-h/micah.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/SnMrJYOs8yI/AAAAAAAAADg/2vE706jYWyk/s200/micah.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364679021251326754" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/SnMqEgT7yEI/AAAAAAAAADY/ZgvalradvK4/s1600-h/aaronmeems2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/SnMqEgT7yEI/AAAAAAAAADY/ZgvalradvK4/s200/aaronmeems2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364677838009780290" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been so hot here in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Heathenville&lt;/span&gt; that, in the interest of self-preservation, we took the kids to the river last night.  I've never been swimming in a river before (and I still haven't &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;LOL&lt;/span&gt;), but it was nice.    We went with friends and had a little barbecue (turned those burgers with a stick since no one thought to bring a spatula).  The kids had a fantastic time and Aaron only needed to be rescued once.  Within minutes of getting into the water, Aaron had gone out over his head.  Mike had to jump in, fully clothed, and save his little behind.  He coughed up a little water and Mike asked him if he was okay.  "I'm fine.  Put me down," Aaron responded.  Then he was back in the water, thankfully a little more aware of his limitations.  We stayed until dusk and came home to a much cooler house.  It's 10:30 am now and the boys are both still sleeping.  I'll be surprised if they wake up before 1 today since they were so tired last night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-5563044699836430979?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/5563044699836430979/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=5563044699836430979' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/5563044699836430979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/5563044699836430979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2009/07/hangin-at-river.html' title='Hangin&apos; at the River'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/SnMrJYOs8yI/AAAAAAAAADg/2vE706jYWyk/s72-c/micah.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-8716490293921720837</id><published>2009-07-28T19:58:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-28T20:02:14.024-05:00</updated><title type='text'>This Week's Reads</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/Sm-fSkfONtI/AAAAAAAAADQ/X4xZtmAfQck/s1600-h/728reads.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/Sm-fSkfONtI/AAAAAAAAADQ/X4xZtmAfQck/s200/728reads.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363680822602643154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow, I had a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;great&lt;/span&gt; reading week.  Six books and they were all great.  I think my favorite was "Vanilla Ride" by Joe R. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Lansdale&lt;/span&gt;, simply because it's been so long since there was a new Hap and Leonard book.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Yay&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-8716490293921720837?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/8716490293921720837/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=8716490293921720837' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/8716490293921720837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/8716490293921720837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2009/07/this-weeks-reads_28.html' title='This Week&apos;s Reads'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/Sm-fSkfONtI/AAAAAAAAADQ/X4xZtmAfQck/s72-c/728reads.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-1931912909756853395</id><published>2009-07-21T15:32:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-21T15:33:26.235-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Just a Pretty Picture</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/SmYmBMMV6aI/AAAAAAAAADI/OvqljBogEVM/s1600-h/myflowers.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/SmYmBMMV6aI/AAAAAAAAADI/OvqljBogEVM/s200/myflowers.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361014208325872034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My pretty impatiens!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-1931912909756853395?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/1931912909756853395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=1931912909756853395' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/1931912909756853395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/1931912909756853395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2009/07/just-pretty-picture.html' title='Just a Pretty Picture'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/SmYmBMMV6aI/AAAAAAAAADI/OvqljBogEVM/s72-c/myflowers.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-918121658695261424</id><published>2009-07-21T15:28:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-21T15:31:58.086-05:00</updated><title type='text'>This Week's Reads</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/SmYlLX-svmI/AAAAAAAAADA/AKwPVI2d5NI/s1600-h/721reads.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/SmYlLX-svmI/AAAAAAAAADA/AKwPVI2d5NI/s200/721reads.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361013283776937570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another light reading week for me.  Standout this week is "Lust, Loathing and a Little Lip Gloss" by &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kyra&lt;/span&gt; Davis.  In this, the fourth in the Sophie &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Katz&lt;/span&gt; series, Davis borrows a little from the paranormal genre.  Excellent read.  If you haven't tried the series, start with "Sex, Murder and a Double Latte."  Is that a great title or what?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-918121658695261424?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/918121658695261424/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=918121658695261424' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/918121658695261424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/918121658695261424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2009/07/this-weeks-reads_21.html' title='This Week&apos;s Reads'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/SmYlLX-svmI/AAAAAAAAADA/AKwPVI2d5NI/s72-c/721reads.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-2998628434629754230</id><published>2009-07-14T15:18:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-14T15:20:36.689-05:00</updated><title type='text'>This Week's Reads</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/SlzoXlJ91nI/AAAAAAAAAC4/MQEasUt-CBU/s1600-h/714reads.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/SlzoXlJ91nI/AAAAAAAAAC4/MQEasUt-CBU/s200/714reads.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358413148472596082" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Light reading week for me, as I only finished three books.  I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;started&lt;/span&gt; about six, but couldn't get into any of the others.  Nothing real stellar this week, just some nice reads.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-2998628434629754230?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/2998628434629754230/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=2998628434629754230' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/2998628434629754230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/2998628434629754230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2009/07/this-weeks-reads_14.html' title='This Week&apos;s Reads'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/SlzoXlJ91nI/AAAAAAAAAC4/MQEasUt-CBU/s72-c/714reads.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-5042910431568416723</id><published>2009-07-11T07:37:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-11T08:00:06.609-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Doctors and Lawyers and Such.......</title><content type='html'>So, yesterday I had my first appointment with the civilian doctor who will be treating me for my abnormal pap smears (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;TMI&lt;/span&gt;?  Don't worry, I'm not getting into details).  I arrived at the clinic right on time and was pleasantly surprised.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Complimentary&lt;/span&gt; valet parking for clinic patients?  Why yes, that sounds just fine.  Free &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;WiFi&lt;/span&gt; in all waiting rooms?  Huh.  Providence 2, Navy Clinic 0.  There wasn't even a single sign threatening death and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;dismemberment&lt;/span&gt; if I didn't turn off my cell phone.  In fact, I leisurely checked my email and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Facebook&lt;/span&gt; on my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;BlackBerry&lt;/span&gt; while waiting for my appointment.  I even &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;texted&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Meircee&lt;/span&gt; from the exam room!  But why was it necessary to text &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Meircee&lt;/span&gt; from the exam room?  Well, it was necessary because I had the need to vent!  The Navy clinic &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;conveniently&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; neglected to forward my chart to the new doctor, making it necessary to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;repeat&lt;/span&gt; the procedure I had already had done.  No, this procedure is not a fun one, or even a benign one.  I was not a happy camper.  Providence 2, Navy Clinic -1&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Dr. Wong made his appearance (at the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;precise&lt;/span&gt; time my appointment was scheduled: Providence 3, Navy Clinic -1), I nearly fell over.   He was a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Doogie&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Howser&lt;/span&gt;, I swear!  My first clue should have been his diploma, hanging on the wall.  You know, the one that was dated 2002?  Heck, my kids are older than this guy's medical degree.  What the hell is up with this?  I am &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; supposed to be older than the doctor.  Am I?  I'm used to being older than the nurses.  The corpsmen (aka nurses) at the Navy clinics have always been younger than me, and that includes when I was a twenty-year-old new mom, but the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;doctors&lt;/span&gt;?  Oh no.  They are supposed to be much, much older than I am.  Apparently this middle-age thing is sneaking into all aspects of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My procedure went just fine (fuzzy covers on the stirrups: Providence 4, Navy Clinic -1) and the doctor and his staff were very nice.  My only complaint was with the whole weighing-in thing.  At the Navy Clinic they just ask me how much I weigh and take my word for it (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;heh&lt;/span&gt;).  Here, they asked me to step on the scale.  At first I thought it was weighing me in kilograms, because surely that number couldn't be right.  It must be blah blah point blah blah.  But alas, it was blah blah BLAH point blah.  Erg.  Providence 3, Navy Clinic -1.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I wait two weeks before my follow-up.  Dr. Wong will tell me then what treatment is necessary and then he'll perform the procedure (no more Navy Clinic for me-at least for this).  I'll get to experience that valet parking a few more times and then hopefully I can be done with doctors (both older and younger than I) for a long, long time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-5042910431568416723?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/5042910431568416723/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=5042910431568416723' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/5042910431568416723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/5042910431568416723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2009/07/doctors-and-lawyers-and-such.html' title='Doctors and Lawyers and Such.......'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-5655569857360743942</id><published>2009-07-07T15:45:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-07T15:48:46.195-05:00</updated><title type='text'>This Week's Reads</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/SlO0Qmyj6fI/AAAAAAAAACw/llBtd3lAj10/s1600-h/july8reads.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/SlO0Qmyj6fI/AAAAAAAAACw/llBtd3lAj10/s200/july8reads.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355822579257174514" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week's reads included a spectacular memoir by Meredith Norton about her experience having &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Inflammatory&lt;/span&gt; Breast Cancer.  Lopsided was funny (think &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Augusten&lt;/span&gt; Burroughs) and touching.  Check it out!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-5655569857360743942?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/5655569857360743942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=5655569857360743942' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/5655569857360743942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/5655569857360743942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2009/07/this-weeks-reads.html' title='This Week&apos;s Reads'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/SlO0Qmyj6fI/AAAAAAAAACw/llBtd3lAj10/s72-c/july8reads.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-949579058459996857</id><published>2009-07-07T15:09:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-07T15:19:28.029-05:00</updated><title type='text'>At Long Last</title><content type='html'>In case you hadn't noticed, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Heathenville&lt;/span&gt; has been on hiatus.  That's fancy-talk for "I've been too lazy to post anything."  I've been shamed, cajoled and now *forced* to update, so update I will.  ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kids are great.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Marissah&lt;/span&gt; is still glued to the computer, watching old Friends episodes and enchanting us all with her renditions of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Linkin&lt;/span&gt; Park songs.  Apparently she doesn't realize that she only sings louder with the headphones on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Micah is taking advantage of the fact that he doesn't have to set an alarm every morning by sleeping until noon every day.  Yes, noon.  This is the kid who once stayed up until 1 am while we were driving back to California and *still was up bright and early at 7 am.  Now he's sleeping until noon.  And he's not even a teenager yet!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aaron continues to make us laugh, even when we want to cry.  There was an incident over the weekend involving a banana and my kitchen ceiling that I am still too traumatized to speak about, but rest assured, Aaron was the instigator.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doc, the fat Lab, is still doing what he does best:  barking at anything that moves, and that includes the wind and flies outside.  He drives me insane, but he sure does play nicely with the kids and they love him to pieces, so I guess we'll keep him.  For now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-949579058459996857?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/949579058459996857/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=949579058459996857' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/949579058459996857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/949579058459996857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2009/07/at-long-last.html' title='At Long Last'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-1668058786894606739</id><published>2008-09-24T18:37:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-24T19:00:57.363-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Caribou Barbie</title><content type='html'>I heard a radio disc jockey call Sarah &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Palin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Caribou&lt;/span&gt; Barbie" today and it opened so  many doors for me.  Can you imagine the marketing possibilities?  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Caribou&lt;/span&gt; Barbie with her husband, The First Dude.  It would be like &lt;a href="http://www.angelfire.com/art/dollmemories/sunshinefamily.html"&gt;the Sunshine Family&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; for the new &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;millennium&lt;/span&gt;.  They could come with a little igloo, a family &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;snowmachine&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; instead of a minivan, and the obligatory his-and-hers M-16s.  Of course, the set would have to come with a picture of Russia in the background, since Caribou Barbie can see Russia from her house!  And don't forget the kids!!!  Track, Bristol, Willow, Piper and Trig will be immortalized too, just like Skipper!  The whole family can cavort by their very own oil well while they hunt moose and polar bears (who says global warming is what's killing the polar bears, anyway?).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-1668058786894606739?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/1668058786894606739/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=1668058786894606739' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/1668058786894606739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/1668058786894606739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2008/09/caribou-barbie.html' title='Caribou Barbie'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-7639119185984396419</id><published>2008-09-01T01:21:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-01T01:24:12.005-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Local News</title><content type='html'>And here I thought I got away from the rednecks when I left Tennessee.  Not so.  Reading this article will prove it.  This happened about a mile from my house......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.pnwlocalnews.com/north_sound/arl/news/27448509.html"&gt;Local News&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-7639119185984396419?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/7639119185984396419/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=7639119185984396419' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/7639119185984396419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/7639119185984396419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2008/09/local-news.html' title='Local News'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-3742462226410415405</id><published>2008-07-25T23:24:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-25T23:36:06.423-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Traumatized at Safeway</title><content type='html'>I was traumatized at Safeway tonight.  I seriously doubt I'll ever fully recover.  I was standing in line at the pharmacy, waiting to pick up Micah's prescription when it happened.  I nearly ran from the store, but those &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;meds&lt;/span&gt; are important!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It all started because the woman in line ahead of me had a most interesting dress on.  It was hot pink with a butterfly pattern all over it.  Yes, it would be a bad dress on anyone, but it was an especially poor choice for someone as large as this woman was.  Butterflies all over a hot pink dress.  That alone would be enough to scare anyone, but then I saw what I thought was a very weird looking butterfly on the back of the dress.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On second glance, I realized it was not a butterfly at all.  It was a hole in the woman's dress.  No wait, that's not &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;a hole&lt;/span&gt;, that's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;several&lt;/span&gt; holes.  Like &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;five holes.  &lt;/span&gt;Yes, there were five holes in the back of this woman's dress.  They were big enough that I could see her hot pink granny panties and her cottage cheese thighs.  I almost puked.  It's bad enough seeing your own cottage cheese thighs, but nobody wants to see them on someone else.  Especially at the grocery store!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I actually pondered telling her about the holes in her dress, thinking maybe she didn't know about them.  I decided that anyone who would wear that dress in the first place wouldn't care about a few well-placed holes and decided to leave it alone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still suffering flashbacks some 5 hours later and I expect they will continue.  I probably have Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder now......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-3742462226410415405?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/3742462226410415405/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=3742462226410415405' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/3742462226410415405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/3742462226410415405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2008/07/traumatized-at-safeway.html' title='Traumatized at Safeway'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-832037267483187703</id><published>2008-07-25T09:17:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-25T10:16:07.988-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A. P. B.</title><content type='html'>The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Heathenville&lt;/span&gt; Chief of Police (a.k.a. Mommy) has issued an all points bulletin for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Froggy&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;B&lt;/span&gt;.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Froggy&lt;/span&gt; was last seen Wednesday night prior to bed time.  He has not been seen since.  A suspect was heard threatening to stuff &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Froggy&lt;/span&gt; in the toilet. The suspect, who is short, blond and six-years-old denies any knowledge of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Froggy's&lt;/span&gt; whereabouts.  A thorough search has been executed, but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Froggy&lt;/span&gt; was not found.   &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Froggy&lt;/span&gt; is 18 inches tall, has green skin and one eye.  He was last seen wearing nothing.  If you see &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Froggy&lt;/span&gt;, please call the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Heathenville&lt;/span&gt; Police Dept.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-832037267483187703?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/832037267483187703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=832037267483187703' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/832037267483187703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/832037267483187703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2008/07/p-b.html' title='A. P. B.'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-4029177190214051895</id><published>2008-07-21T18:34:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-21T18:42:22.043-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Heathenville Moment</title><content type='html'>When you live in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Heathenville&lt;/span&gt;, as I do, you learn to never, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;never&lt;/span&gt; let your guard down.  Heathens, as has been proven time and time again, are capable of anything imaginable.  And even a few things unimaginable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today my boys were playing together very nicely.  This, in itself, is surprising, but you can only imagine the ice water that flowed through my veins when I heard Micah say to Aaron "Let's build a bomb!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, a typical mother, a mother of non-Heathen children, would probably laugh if she heard those words uttered in her presence.  Possibly she would chastise her children for speaking of violence.  But that's a typical mother.  A mother who is secure in her belief that her children would never knowingly blow anything up.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I was terrified.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My very first thought upon hearing those words were "Oh my God, where did they learn how to build bombs?"  I'm not kidding.  My second thought was "Oh my God, what are they going to blow up?"  My third thought?  "Can I get to them before they detonate?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The good news is my kids did not blow anything up.  They did build a "bomb," but it was fashioned out of a small baby blanket, balled up and when it was dropped it "exploded."  Whew.  I'm now going to block Google and all other search engines from our computers, though, just in case they decide they want to learn how to build a real bomb. I don't put  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;anything&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; past my kids.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-4029177190214051895?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/4029177190214051895/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=4029177190214051895' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/4029177190214051895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/4029177190214051895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2008/07/heathenville-moment.html' title='A Heathenville Moment'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-537480398673466286</id><published>2008-07-18T08:26:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-18T08:34:45.697-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Summer in the Suburbs</title><content type='html'>Summer has finally arrived in western Washington.  The sun is shining, the flowers are growing and we haven't seen a drop of rain in nearly a month!  I know, I know.  Everyone who has never lived in Washington thinks it rains all year long (I did too).  In reality, it rains from October to May and then it's dry, dry, dry. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My yard is beautiful, thanks to the owners of the house who lived here until we moved in.  I planted a couple pots full of annuals this spring, but most of them are dead.  Thanks to Heidi and Scott I have hydrangeas, daisies, hollyhocks, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;echinacea&lt;/span&gt;, lavender and clematis.  It's gorgeous in my backyard, and even better because I know I don't have to mow it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My kids are officially bored with summer vacation.  They big summer dreams of vacations at Disneyland, shopping, carnivals, parades and more.  In reality we went to a parade and they were bored silly.  We went to the fireworks on July 4&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; and they were enchanted, but they were over much too soon.  No vacation this summer--gas prices are way too high and I have no desire to drive to Disneyland (or, God forbid, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;DisneyWORLD&lt;/span&gt;) with my three heathens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're all counting down the days until we see Mike again.  This deployment has seemed especially long, even though I thought it wouldn't be "too bad."  See, this is the first deployment in which I am not pregnant or taking care of an infant or toddler.  Should be a breeze, right?  Turns out, older kids miss Daddy more than babies do, and just because there are no diapers to change doesn't mean Mom gets any kind of break.  Sigh.  On the bright side, I'm meeting Mike in Hawaii at the end of this deployment for a much-needed vacation.  That should make up for a lot.......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-537480398673466286?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/537480398673466286/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=537480398673466286' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/537480398673466286'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/537480398673466286'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2008/07/summer-in-suburbs.html' title='Summer in the Suburbs'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-9044129659754272506</id><published>2008-05-23T09:47:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-23T09:55:06.704-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Wonder Diet!</title><content type='html'>Micah saw his new nurse practitioner yesterday and we had some good news.  Micah has gained two pounds since his appointment last month!  This is pretty big news, because Micah has been hovering right around sixty pounds for the past three years or so.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;LOL&lt;/span&gt;  Turns out the best thing for him is Mommy's Deployment Desperation Diet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mommy's Deployment Desperation Diet has three main components:  fast, easy, tasty.  Now, the tasty is up to interpretation for each child, but for Micah it translates into:  pizza rolls, chicken nuggets, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ramen&lt;/span&gt; noodles and cereal.  I do cook real meals and I cook them at least four times per week.  The trouble is, at least one kid will find complaint with what I make.  Aaron and Micah love lemon pepper chicken, but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Marissah&lt;/span&gt; hates it.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Marissah&lt;/span&gt; loves fettuccine &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Alfredo&lt;/span&gt;, but the boys hate it.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Marissah&lt;/span&gt; and Micah love mini-meatloaves but Aaron hates them.  There are only a few things that are "real meals" that they will all three eat:  pizza, burgers, macaroni and cheese and spaghetti.  Yes, I know, calling those things "real meals" is a bit of a stretch, but I take whatever I can get!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my dreams I cook up delicious gourmet-like meals (using things like Hamburger Helper and canned tuna) and my kids beg for more.  In my reality, I make Hamburger Helper and listen to everyone complain.  Is it any wonder I have given up and started making chicken nuggets twice a week? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Whatever works" has become my philosophy.  If that means &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;ramen&lt;/span&gt; for breakfast, lunch and dinner, so be it.  He's gained TWO WHOLE POUNDS!!!!!  Woo &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;hoo&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-9044129659754272506?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/9044129659754272506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=9044129659754272506' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/9044129659754272506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/9044129659754272506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2008/05/wonder-diet.html' title='The Wonder Diet!'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-1160253593124302504</id><published>2008-05-13T21:04:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-13T22:00:52.198-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Field Trip with the Demon Spawn</title><content type='html'>Today was Aaron's class trip to the &lt;a href="https://www.seattleaquarium.org/NetCommunity/Page.aspx?pid=183&amp;amp;srcid=-2"&gt;Seattle Aquarium&lt;/a&gt;.    We had a wonderful time, in spite of the little heathen who was assigned to me to chaperon.  No, I'm not talking about Aaron, who has been known to have his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;heathenly&lt;/span&gt; moments.  No, this child I will call Mikey.  As in "Mikey doesn't like it."  Because this kid didn't like it.  Not &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;any&lt;/span&gt; of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've never met Mikey before, but I was pretty pleased that the teacher had enough chaperons that we only each had two kids to watch out for.  With five- and six-year-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;olds&lt;/span&gt; any more than two is just awful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once at the aquarium, I got the boys' name tags on and advised them that they had to stay near me; I wanted them to be able to see me and me to see them.  Apparently this went in one ear and out the other, as you can imagine.  First we saw a really cool wave aquarium.  There were starfish, barnacles, fish, crabs, etc. and the waves were really cool.  Mikey thought it was stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next stop was the tide pool exhibit.  Here you could touch the animals and see them from pretty close up.  Aaron and I touched starfish, poked sea cucumbers and had our fingers sucked by anemones.  Mikey wasn't putting his hand in that water because something might bite it.  However, he had seen a picture of an eel and he &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;really&lt;/span&gt; wanted to see that.  Out of nowhere, a curator steps up and informs Mikey that there are no eels in the tide pool exhibit.  Mikey tells her he sees an eel.  "See, it's right there!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No," she says.  "That's not an eel.  This guy has fins and eel's don't have fins.  Do you see that?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Believe me, Mikey saw that.  He was very disappointed that he didn't see his eel.  He had had enough of the tide pools.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We moved on to the jelly fish exhibit, which was very cool.  It was a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Plexiglas&lt;/span&gt; arch that the jelly fish swim through.  The boys had their pictures taken in the jellyfish model.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/SCpL5wtx2WI/AAAAAAAAAB0/ZCRd-w6qvXI/s1600-h/DSC04252.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/SCpL5wtx2WI/AAAAAAAAAB0/ZCRd-w6qvXI/s200/DSC04252.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200052175454198114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From there we moved on to see the Giant Pacific Octopus.  There were two of them, one who was named Dolores.  The boys were briefly amused by Dolores when she decided to move from one aquarium to another, connected by a tube.  Seems Dolores just isn't in shape anymore and she got stuck.  Much laughter ensued.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our next stop was the diving gear area.  The kids were allowed to try on dive gear and have their pictures taken.  Aaron was quite content to try on the top, hood and flippers.  Mikey wanted the whole nine yards.  This was quite a feat since 1) Mikey was fully dressed and 2) the dive suit was about six times too big for him.  After much pushing, pulling, tugging and struggling, the suit was on.  Then he needed the hood.  And the flippers.  And the  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;buoyancy vest.&lt;/span&gt;  Yes, we spent a good 30 minutes trying on dive gear.  And then it was time for lunch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lunch presented its own problems, as Mikey didn't bring one.  Fortunately, one of the other kids in the class had ordered a lunch from the cafeteria and brought one from home, so Mikey got a lunch.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Un&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;fortunately, Mikey's sandwich smelled bad.  And he doesn't like applesauce.  And he only eats carrots with Ranch, which we didn't have.  He ended up eating a package of goldfish crackers and most of Aaron's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Cheet&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;os&lt;/span&gt;.  At one point he did try a bite of the offending sandwich (turkey and cheese on white, no mayo, no mustard, no &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;nothing&lt;/span&gt;) and he promptly spit it out.  On the floor. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sea birds exhibit didn't go over well with Mikey either.  Aaron and I thought the puffins were adorable, but Mikey thought they were boring.  Ditto for the otters, seals and salmon.  By this time I was ready to throttle little Mikey, but we'd only been at the aquarium for an hour and I figured it was much too early for throttling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because the people who built the aquarium are sick vultures, scheming for every dime, we exited the otter/seal exhibit directly into the aquarium gift shop.  Mikey asked me four times why I didn't bring any money along to buy him a toy.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Four times.&lt;/span&gt;  I told him that the next time he goes on a field trip he better tell his mom to send money for toys, because I won't be bringing any then either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Underwater Dome  was very cool.  We saw many different kinds of fish and even, much to my delight, a wolf eel!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mikey, look!"  I said.  "It's a wolf eel!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's not an eel,"  Mikey said.  "It has fins.  See!  Eels don't have fins."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A lady on the bench beside us interrupted us.  "Other eels don't have fins, but wolf eels do."  Bless her heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But Mikey was having none of it.  "That other lady told us eels don't have fins.  And &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that fish&lt;/span&gt;, he said, pointing, "has fins.  I want to see a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;real&lt;/span&gt; eel."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not deterred, the lovely lady told Mikey:  "Well, when you get home you'll have to look on the Internet for a real eel."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mikey replied "I don't live with her.  I live somewhere else."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My new best friend caught on quickly.  Looking directly at me she said, "Well lucky you!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes," I replied.  "Very lucky me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rest of our visit was fairly uneventful, except when Mikey lost his "ticket."  He had picked up a brochure somewhere along the line and couldn't find it.  He mistakenly thought I would take him through the entire aquarium again, looking for it.  Not gonna happen, kid.  He was pretty miffed, but by then it was almost time to go home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all, Aaron and I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;did&lt;/span&gt; have a good time.  But I'm taking my kids back this summer when we can really enjoy it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And one thing is certain.......Mikey has been crossed of the list of potential play dates.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-1160253593124302504?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/1160253593124302504/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=1160253593124302504' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/1160253593124302504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/1160253593124302504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2008/05/field-trip-with-demon-spawn.html' title='Field Trip with the Demon Spawn'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/SCpL5wtx2WI/AAAAAAAAAB0/ZCRd-w6qvXI/s72-c/DSC04252.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-5781618133246581582</id><published>2008-04-19T11:28:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-19T11:33:53.529-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Spring Has Sprung</title><content type='html'>Apparently spring is a different animal here in the Pacific Northwest than in other places I've lived.  Last Saturday it was a gorgeous 80 degrees with tons of sunshine.  Today it's snowing off and on.  Welcome to Washington.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since we've moved here I've heard the phrase "Just wait until summer.  Summers here are fantastic" more times than I can count.  And I'm beginning to think everyone has been lying to me.  Or maybe they really do mean &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;summer&lt;/span&gt; is wonderful, as opposed to spring.  Maybe summer doesn't actually start here until the end of June (God, please don't let this be true).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weather here is really starting to get ridiculous.  My tulips are trying to bloom and they're now covered with snow.  The cherry trees are sporting their fragrant pink blossoms....and they're covered with snow.  Even without the snow, I can count the number of sunny days we've had since we've been here on one hand.  That's no lie.  Contrary to popular belief, it &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;does not&lt;/span&gt; always rain here, but it is almost never sunny.  At least not until June, I guess.......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-5781618133246581582?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/5781618133246581582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=5781618133246581582' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/5781618133246581582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/5781618133246581582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2008/04/spring-has-sprung.html' title='Spring Has Sprung'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-3630331710594861641</id><published>2008-03-08T22:52:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-08T23:14:03.825-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Still Live in Heathenville</title><content type='html'>Today was proof that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Heathenville&lt;/span&gt; really is a state of mind.  Aaron and has been sick all week with a nasty cold.  Yesterday Mike came home from work with a temperature of 101.4 and was feeling really lousy.  Today I had to take &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Marissah&lt;/span&gt; to get her fabric for home living class (they're sewing pillowcases) and needed to return some books to the library.  Being a nice wife (and Mommy) I took both &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Marissah&lt;/span&gt; and Micah along so Mike would have it pretty quiet here in the house while I was gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We hit the library and decided we'd take "the back way" to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Wal&lt;/span&gt;-Mart.  This is no big deal because Stacie (my navigation system, so named because she's quite bossy, just like another Stacie I know) leads me wherever I want to go.  We were almost to Wally World, stuck at a monster red light with tons of cars ahead of us when Micah pukes.  Oh. My. God.  Tell me he didn't do that.  But, alas, he did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did some quick calculating and reconnoitering.  If I turned right at this light the Goodwill store was a block away.  Right next to it is a Dollar Store.  We pulled in the parking lot and I issued orders:  "Micah stay right where you are.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Marissah&lt;/span&gt;, take this money and go buy your brother a bottle of water or a bottle of Gatorade from the Dollar Store.  I'm going into the Goodwill to buy a towel."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was checking out at the Goodwill with my lovely fuchsia towel (it was the biggest and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;fluffiest&lt;/span&gt; I could find.  I figured it'd be very absorbent and I wasn't wrong.), the lady asked me if I needed a bag.  I don't know if I looked harried or what, but I assured her that I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;did&lt;/span&gt; need a bag and off I went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got back to the van (where Micah was locked in, of course), &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Marissah&lt;/span&gt; was back with his water.  I set to work cleaning up the puke (which had lovely chunks of hot dog in it-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;TMI&lt;/span&gt;?) and I started gagging.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Marissah&lt;/span&gt; kept telling me I was fine.  I agreed with her.  Until, suddenly, I wasn't and I was puking all over the parking lot.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Marissah&lt;/span&gt; started screaming, I kept puking and Micah just kept watching.  Between heaves I tried to assure &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Marissah&lt;/span&gt; that I was fine.  In the midst of this, I heard her tell Micah:  "See, this is why I don't like you, Micah!"  If I hadn't been so busy up-chucking I would have laughed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally I was done puking up my Campbell's Zesty &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Azteca&lt;/span&gt; Meatball soup (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;TMI&lt;/span&gt; again?) and finished cleaning up Micah's mess.  I used the bottle of water to first rinse my mouth and then I poured some directly on the floor of the van so I could blot more puke up.  Oh, what fun.  I then bagged the towel in the Goodwill bag and tied it shut because there was no trashcan to be seen and I didn't want to risk being found next to a big pile of puke in the parking lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We did go to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Wal&lt;/span&gt;-Mart.  Micah said he "felt much better" after his puking and I really didn't want to drive him all the way home and come all the way back again.  Turns out &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Marissah&lt;/span&gt; was crying because she figured this meant &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; was sick and wouldn't be taking her to get her fabric.  Silly girl, Mommy wasn't sick, she just can't see a pile of vomit without adding her own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we arrived at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Wal&lt;/span&gt;-Mart I found that I had yet another battle to fight.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Marissah&lt;/span&gt; had decided she couldn't go inside because her mascara (wearing make-up is new to her....like she's been doing it for about two weeks now) had run all over her face while she was crying.  Okay, this is ridiculous.  I assure her she doesn't look that bad, but she says she needs to wash her face.  The first time in this child's entire life that she wants to wash her face and I can't scrounge up so much as a used napkin in the van.  I do however have a lovely, absorbent fuchsia towel, but she wont' go for that.  I even offered her one of the untouched-by-vomit corners, but it wasn't happening.  In the end, she walked into &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;Wal&lt;/span&gt;-Mart with her coat pulled up to cover her face, a la the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;perp&lt;/span&gt; walk you see on the nightly news.  Oh yes, it really was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that bad&lt;/span&gt;.  She's thirteen, remember.  When we got into the store we went directly to the restroom where one swoop of a wet paper towel on each cheek was all that was required to restore her beauty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got what we needed.  The Goodwill bag and the fuchsia towel were dumped into the trashcan in the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;Wal&lt;/span&gt;-Mart parking lot.  We arrived home with no more puke.  Ah, if there's anything to be said for living with a houseful of heathens, it's that there's never a dull moment.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-3630331710594861641?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/3630331710594861641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=3630331710594861641' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/3630331710594861641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/3630331710594861641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2008/03/i-still-live-in-heathenville.html' title='I Still Live in Heathenville'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-8814707412388790037</id><published>2008-03-03T21:42:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-08T22:52:00.434-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Stacie visits Seattle</title><content type='html'>Yes, that's right!  Auntie &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Cee&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Cee&lt;/span&gt; came to Seattle for a visit and we had a fabulous time!  The kids were thrilled to see her, to say the least.  She did not, however, make them the Buckeyes Micah so desperately wanted.  She did make Autumn Chowder (delicious, cheesy soup) and egg bake (her own special recipe).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Friday Stacie, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Marissah&lt;/span&gt; and I went to the Seattle Premium Outlets mall.  Wow, what a great place!  Too bad I can't afford Kenneth Cole even at outlet prices.  Lots of great stores there, including Coach, Banana Republic, Michael &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Kors&lt;/span&gt; and Liz Claiborne.  We bought some goodies at Harry and David's (yum!) and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Marissah&lt;/span&gt; had a wonderful time at Claire's (big surprise).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Saturday Stacie and I went to &lt;a href="http://www.pikeplacemarket.org/frameset.asp?flash=false"&gt;Pike Place Market&lt;/a&gt;. We had a great time, in spite of getting accosted by many weirdos.  Apparently my sister attracts them like honey attracts flies.  One of them was even surprised to learn she was "English" and opposed to Hispanic.  Because you know, with her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;blonde&lt;/span&gt; hair and fair skin she looks SO Latin.  He started speaking Spanish to her and was surprised when she didn't reply in kind.  He bummed a cigarette off of her and then tried to give it back five minutes later.  Um, no thanks, dude!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Off on a little tangent here......Neither Stacie nor I have ever felt so completely conspicuous as smokers as we did in Seattle.  I don't think *anyone* smokes in this state.  Whilst having a smoke outside of Pike Place Market we were even coughed at.  Talk about passive-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;aggressive&lt;/span&gt;.  It was weird to feel so out of place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We ate so much at Pike Place Market that I thought I was going to explode.  We sampled everything from goat cheese to dark chocolate fettuccine (it wasn't that bad, but it wasn't great either) to rose petal jelly (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; was disgusting).  For lunch we had a seafood feast.  Stacie had clam chowder, oyster shooters, seviche and steamed clams.  I had clam chowder, steamed mussels and Dungeness crab cakes.  I also had some of Stacie's seviche and it's now my new favorite food.  Oh, it was so delicious.  I need to find a good recipe and make it for myself this summer.  We ended up buying some delicious cheese:  a garlic and dill chevre and a rosemary and garlic feta.  I am so decadent that I put the chevre on my ham sandwiches and feel not one ounce of guilt.  It is &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And back to our visit with Stacie, on Sunday she and I took the kids on the ferry to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Whidbey&lt;/span&gt; Island.  The ferry ride was fun.  It wasn't too long, only about 20 minutes.  We went to a beach and found shells, rocks, and even brought home a hitchhiker in the form of a teeny, tiny crab.  When I say "teeny, tiny" I really mean it-it was smaller than the very tip of Stacie's index finger.  Stacie named him Hitch and we fed him some hamburger after a quick Google to see what crabs eat.  And then he promptly died.  Oh well.  We had a lovely funeral in the bathroom and Aaron loved being flusher. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Monday I took Stacie to her hotel so she could get on with the real reason for this trip:  WORK!  Unfortunately, I dropped her off at the wrong hotel.  Fortunately, the right hotel was just a few feet away.  I mean, really, who puts a Holiday Inn next to a Holiday Inn Express and just expects people to know the difference??????  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Sheesh&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We really had a great time-at least I hope she had as much fun as I did.  I hope she'll come visit again.  Maybe next time we'll remember to look for Mt Rainier.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-8814707412388790037?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/8814707412388790037/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=8814707412388790037' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/8814707412388790037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/8814707412388790037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2008/03/stacie-visits-seattle.html' title='Stacie visits Seattle'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-8515387883417013173</id><published>2007-12-16T08:51:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-16T09:03:59.169-06:00</updated><title type='text'>At Long Last</title><content type='html'>Ah, my last blog post from the Backwoods.  Just to prove that I haven't been exaggerating all these years about my rural lifestyle, last night I saw three deer in the clearing behind our house.  Three of 'em!  I was wishing my sister was here with her gun so we could have ourselves some venison for dinner.  Oh wait.  I'm not a redneck.  I couldn't eat a deer that my sister shot with a 9mm.  And besides, I don't have a deer license (not that that stops many people around here).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're packing up and getting ready to leave this town, and hopefully we'll never have to come back.  I had my first taste of Memphis barbecue the other night.  It's taken me this long because, frankly, I was pretty sure I wouldn't like it.  When you watch people eat barbecue nachos you kind of lose your appetite for any of the ingredients.  Especially the barbecue part.  (I'm not making this up.  People around here stuff themselves silly on tortilla chips topped with pork or chicken swimming in Memphis-style barbecue sauce and topped with that melted fake cheese and pickled jalapeno slices.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Urk&lt;/span&gt;.)  So, I tried Memphis-style barbecue, renowned the world over as being the best barbecue ever.  It was okay, a bit too sweet for my taste.  Note that this was pulled pork and not ribs.  The ribs here ROCK!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gracie went to live with her new family yesterday.  Rick and Mel are going to take excellent care of her, she'll have room to stretch out and be lazy, and, best of all, no big-ass, stupid lab is going to try to get her to play anymore.  I am so thankful to Rick and Mel.  I was sure I was going to have to put Gracie down before we left because I just don't think she could handle the drives (first one 14 hours, second one close to 30).  They called last night and said she's made herself comfortable on the office floor and isn't intimidated in the least by their two Chihuahuas (I could have told them &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, this is my last post from Tennessee, but rest assured that I'm not leaving &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Heathenville&lt;/span&gt;.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Heathenville&lt;/span&gt;, after all, is a state of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;mind&lt;/span&gt;, not a state in the union.  ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-8515387883417013173?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/8515387883417013173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=8515387883417013173' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/8515387883417013173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/8515387883417013173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/12/at-long-last.html' title='At Long Last'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-8665610520254364761</id><published>2007-11-15T08:04:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-15T08:13:19.809-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Long Time, No Blog</title><content type='html'>Things are busy here-busier than usual since we're getting ready for our big move.  We'll be leaving here in mid-December and spending the holidays in Minnesota with our beloved families.  Then it's off to Everett, Washington and the surrounding area.  We still have no place to live there and that's making me rather nervous, but something will turn up, I'm sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kids are doing great.  Micah made honor roll and got a Good Citizenship award last quarter.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Marissah&lt;/span&gt; is in Project Gold and Pep Club and really enjoying herself.  Aaron is....well, he's Aaron.  He loves Kindergarten, but the past week he's been getting into a little trouble.  Nothing major, just the usual little boy stuff: playing in the bathroom, talking at rest time, spitting (SPITTING?!).  He's a little ball of fire, that's for sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please keep our Gracie Girl in your prayers.  She's been diagnosed with pulmonary edema (excess fluid in her lungs) and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;cardiomyopathy&lt;/span&gt; (enlarged heart due to the excess fluid).  She can't see very well and she can't hear at all.  My gut is telling me that the time is getting near, but the vet says she's fine.  :/  She's on medication now, but I'm not seeing any improvement in her breathing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weather has really turned here.  It's only 50 degrees this morning and our high today will only be 55.  I suppose this will help me acclimate to the sub-zero tundra of Minnesota.  Ha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is a picture of my little fire ball.  Don't ask how this came about, as I didn't take it (Daddy did).  In any case, it's funnier than hell and it's totally Aaron!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/RzxTy43dCuI/AAAAAAAAABs/UMj44le00Ik/s1600-h/DSC02424.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/RzxTy43dCuI/AAAAAAAAABs/UMj44le00Ik/s200/DSC02424.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5133069809019063010" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-8665610520254364761?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/8665610520254364761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=8665610520254364761' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/8665610520254364761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/8665610520254364761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/11/long-time-no-blog.html' title='Long Time, No Blog'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/RzxTy43dCuI/AAAAAAAAABs/UMj44le00Ik/s72-c/DSC02424.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-8546327005114425776</id><published>2007-09-11T08:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-11T08:08:25.995-05:00</updated><title type='text'>9/11</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/RuaTRDwFKyI/AAAAAAAAABk/e6dqhyd7Ug0/s1600-h/american-flag.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/RuaTRDwFKyI/AAAAAAAAABk/e6dqhyd7Ug0/s200/american-flag.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108932748572437282" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We will never forget.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-8546327005114425776?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/8546327005114425776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=8546327005114425776' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/8546327005114425776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/8546327005114425776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/09/911.html' title='9/11'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/RuaTRDwFKyI/AAAAAAAAABk/e6dqhyd7Ug0/s72-c/american-flag.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-8765534917115877894</id><published>2007-09-10T13:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-10T14:27:23.993-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Driving in Memphis</title><content type='html'>I had to take Micah to the doctor today (just a regular check-up) and was reminded of all the reasons I hate driving in Memphis.  People around here just don't know how to drive.  If there's ever been a case of road rage in Memphis, I'd be willing to bet at least one person involved was a non-native.  Seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never got much freeway-driving experience until I moved to San Diego.  For one, I lived an hour away from the nearest big city.  For another, my mom was (and still is) terrified of freeway driving.  Essentially, I learned in the "sink or swim" manner.  I'm proud to say I swam and, to this day, have never been in an accident while I was driving. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Driving in Memphis, especially on the interstate, is awful for someone who hasn't driven here their entire life.  The speed limit is 65, so why in the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;hell&lt;/span&gt; are you going 55, moron?  No, this isn't a little old lady I'm talking about.  It's a grown man in his pick-em-up truck.  But, really, it's not just him.  It's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;everyone&lt;/span&gt;.  They're all going 55 in a 65 mph zone.  Curious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or maybe it's not so curious.  You see, when it's time to merge, everyone slows down to let those poor suckers trying to get on the freeway in.  Wait just a cotton-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;pickin&lt;/span&gt;' minute!  Why not just &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;move over&lt;/span&gt; to the middle lanes????  Well, apparently those middle lanes are &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; for driving on.  They are for.......um........nothing?  I don't know what they're for, but only in the heaviest traffic are they used.  Otherwise &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;everyone's&lt;/span&gt; in the far right lane and they're slowing &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;way down&lt;/span&gt; so Jim Bob can get his Dodge Ram onto the freeway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You'd think that all these slow drivers and empty center lanes would make for smooth sailing for a driver like me, one who is completely unconcerned whether or not Jim Bob makes it on to the freeway.  But no.  Just.....no.  Old Earl there, in his 1968 Cadillac, thinks he owns the road.  He pays taxes on the whole thing, so why can't he use three lanes at a time?  And don't forget Billy Tom, who has his &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;kids  &lt;/span&gt;riding in the back of his pickup, unrestrained, of course.  No seat belts in the bed of a truck, after all.  The church bus (and there are about 350,000 of them in the city of Memphis alone) is going 30 in the right lane, apparently looking for sinners who may be wandering the side of the freeway, just looking for a ride to a better place.  Wait, is that a minivan stopped up ahead?  Why yes, it is.  Looks like Darla Sue saw a deer and, wouldn't you know it, she just happens to have her rifle handy and she's all dressed to hunt, what with her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;purty&lt;/span&gt; camouflage jacket.  Who's it going to hurt if she just pulls over and pops off a couple shots?  Willie stopped to scrape that possum off the HOV lane.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;That'll&lt;/span&gt; make a tasty lunch.  And there I am, dodging cars and trucks and vans and praying, just &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;praying&lt;/span&gt; for a nice, leisurely drive on the 5 North.  During rush hour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see, in Southern California no one gives a rat's ass if you're trying to get on the freeway.  You put on your blinker and start merging, praying you'll make it without hitting anyone.  You can do this safely if the car closest to you is worth more than your vehicle.  That dude in the Mercedes is &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; going to risk his $4000 paint job.  He'll let you in.  Time to exit?  Again, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;just do it.&lt;/span&gt;  There's no need to slow down.  Take the shoulder if you have to.  Everyone, including the Highway Patrol, understands.  If you've ever wondered why people in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;SoCal&lt;/span&gt; drive 4-wheel drive vehicles when there's no terrain to speak of, it's because of this:  they're simply looking for a vehicle that can climb &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;over &lt;/span&gt;the Beetles and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Volvos&lt;/span&gt;.  And most of the time they're successful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, there &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;are&lt;/span&gt; hazards to driving the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;SoCal&lt;/span&gt; freeways.  Well, driving in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;SoCal&lt;/span&gt; in general is a hazard, but there are a few things to keep in mind.  Rule one:  Never stop.  Ever.  Blown tire?  Keep on driving until the next exit.  No, it does &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; matter that everyone is waving at you and yelling that your tire is flat.  As long as the car can continue to move forward, you &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;must &lt;/span&gt;keep going until the&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;exit.  Yes, this happened to me.  No, I was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; going to risk life, limb, children and car by pulling off on the shoulder.  That's just another lane to Californians. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rule two:  Avoid hand gestures, unless they are obscene.  Yes, strange as it seems, you must not acknowledge a good freeway deed with a wave.   Just treat it as your God-given right and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;keep moving.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rule three:  Keep up with the flow of traffic.  I don't care if you're scared.  I don't care if you don't want a speeding ticket.  If your car can't keep up with the other drivers on the road (sometimes this means going 90), get the hell off.  You have no business on California roads (not just freeways) if you can't stomach high speeds.  No one's going to get&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; anywhere&lt;/span&gt; if we all slow down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rule four:  Close your eyes and hope for the best.  Yes, this seems pretty simplistic, but it's always worked for me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy driving!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-8765534917115877894?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/8765534917115877894/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=8765534917115877894' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/8765534917115877894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/8765534917115877894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/09/driving-in-memphis.html' title='Driving in Memphis'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-6744818025602427508</id><published>2007-08-22T20:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-22T20:56:42.872-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Adventures of KinderBoy!</title><content type='html'>Aaron's loving school.  We can tell because it's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;all&lt;/span&gt; he talks about.  He's got a new best friend named Frank and he's already informed me I must get Frank's phone number on Meet the Teacher night (which is tomorrow).  He's been doing lots of coloring (today he colored a lovely chicken) and has learned to play a great new game called "Follow the Directions."  Unfortunately, it's still so hot here he's only been able to go outside for recess one day.  :(  On that day, however, they played Tag and Aaron was most impressed.  He likes &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; game better than that directions one.  What a surprise, huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Knock on wood, I haven't yet received a call from the teacher or principal regarding his behavior.  He must be saving it all up.  ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-6744818025602427508?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/6744818025602427508/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=6744818025602427508' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/6744818025602427508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/6744818025602427508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/08/adventures-of-kinderboy.html' title='The Adventures of KinderBoy!'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-279096236563405547</id><published>2007-08-14T06:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T06:49:16.259-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Birthday!</title><content type='html'>Today is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Marissah's&lt;/span&gt; thirteenth birthday.  How on earth can I have a teenager?!  It seems like just months ago my Mini &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Rissa&lt;/span&gt; was crawling around on the floor, weeks ago that she was screaming "Beat!" whenever Big Bird came on TV and just days ago that she was starting school.  Now she's thirteen....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's growing up and getting lovelier every day.  Happy Birthday, honey!  We love you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-279096236563405547?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/279096236563405547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=279096236563405547' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/279096236563405547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/279096236563405547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/08/happy-birthday.html' title='Happy Birthday!'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-1941034646667033856</id><published>2007-08-12T20:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-12T20:33:19.042-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Back to School</title><content type='html'>Tonight at dinner Micah gave Aaron some solid, yet unsolicited, advice about school.  "Aaron, just watch out for the people who laugh when they get in trouble."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After I laughed myself silly, I realized that he's right.  Those &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;are&lt;/span&gt; the kind of people you should watch out for, aren't they?  What an astute kid!  ; )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow at 7:40 I'll be driving my boys to school.  Their hair has been cut, they have new clothes, their new backpacks are bulging with school supplies.  They're ready and so am I.  OK, so I might cry a *little* when I leave Aaron in his classroom, but aren't I entitled to that?  Wish us all luck!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P. S.  After I drop them off I'm heading to Starbucks.  *grin*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-1941034646667033856?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/1941034646667033856/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=1941034646667033856' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/1941034646667033856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/1941034646667033856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/08/back-to-school.html' title='Back to School'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-7404974819160277415</id><published>2007-08-10T15:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-10T15:06:40.238-05:00</updated><title type='text'>HOT!</title><content type='html'>First for a weather report:  our current temperature is 102 degrees with a heat index of 104.  That's actually not too bad.  Yesterday our heat index was 112!  The humidity is lower today and that helps quite a bit.  Last night at 10 pm it was still 93 degrees outside.  Talk about insane weather!  Unfortunately, there's no relief in sight; the weather forecast through next week calls for more hot temps and more humidity.  Oh, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;yay&lt;/span&gt;.  NOT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My kids are all registered for school and will start Monday.  Aaron only gets to go to school one day next week (their way of getting the kids used to school, I guess) and he picked Monday.  I know he's excited, but it's going to be a long week for him until he gets to go back!  We're working on shoe-tying this weekend so he'll be "all ready" for school.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-7404974819160277415?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/7404974819160277415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=7404974819160277415' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/7404974819160277415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/7404974819160277415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/08/hot.html' title='HOT!'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-3299568509820647815</id><published>2007-08-05T12:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-05T13:02:27.104-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Random Thoughts on a Hot Day</title><content type='html'>It's 95 degrees with a dew point of 73 degrees here right now.  It's going to get even hotter-there's not a single cloud in the sky.  By the end of the day our heat index will probably be 110.  Ugh.  I'm sick of heat and humidity.  We just can't get out of this state fast enough to please me.  Here are some random thoughts on this hot day:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Barry Bonds hit his 755&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; home run last night.  We missed it.  After watching the Giants play every night for a week, we didn't even think of turning the game on and he hit his 755&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; to tie Hank Aaron's record.  Now, don't get me wrong:  I still hate Barry &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Bonds&lt;/span&gt;.  I think he's an arrogant asshole and a steroid user.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Mike&lt;/span&gt; wanted to see Bonds hit the big one, but I was hoping to see Bonds break his leg.  Failing that, I would have been happy to see a pitcher throw straight at his head.  Oh well.....I guess I can keep dreaming since he hasn't broken the record yet.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My kids start school in a week.  I can't believe how fast the summer went, but it's just about gone.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Aaron&lt;/span&gt; has no idea that his days of freedom are numbered.  He's excited for school, but in a very abstract way.  He wants to go to school to (and this is a direct quote from him)  "drink chocolate milk every day, have recess and get 10 girlfriends."  Ah, yes, he is his father's son.  When I told him I'd be lonely at home without him he assured me that Doc and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Gracie&lt;/span&gt; will keep me company.  He's not staying home with me when there are girlfriends to be had!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My new vacuum is still doing an excellent job.  Unfortunately, Doc isn't scared of this one, so my daily dose of laughter is gone.  I'll have to find another way to torment the stupid thing.  He's still positive he could catch a squirrel, bird or lizard if only we'd just let him out of the yard.  We've seen a couple deer in the woods behind our house lately and he really goes nuts over them.  I'm tempted to let him loose just to see what he'd do, but with my luck he'd never come back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last, but not least, keep your fingers crossed for Mike's orders.  We're really hoping for a billet &lt;a href="http://www.nbvc.navy.mil/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-3299568509820647815?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/3299568509820647815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=3299568509820647815' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/3299568509820647815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/3299568509820647815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/08/random-thoughts-on-hot-day.html' title='Random Thoughts on a Hot Day'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-2996541459537524430</id><published>2007-07-19T19:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-19T19:37:50.040-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Yes, It Sucks!</title><content type='html'>My new vacuum sucks-and that's a big change from the old one.  That one didn't suck at all!  ; )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I'm being &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;punny&lt;/span&gt;, but I'm so excited.  I bought a Dyson vacuum cleaner today.  I'm tired of spend $150 every few years for a new vacuum cleaner.  Hopefully, since I spent more than that, this one will last more years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My last vacuum was a Eureka.  Never, ever buy a Eureka.  I should have known better.  My first vacuum was a Eureka and it started on fire while I was vacuuming!  Not good.  Then we had a Hoover which barely lasted a year.  Then a Dirt Devil which didn't even last a year and then the other Eureka, which died today after three years.  This last Eureka, though, was the worst.  I've replaced the hose and the beater brush, not to mention umpteen belts (seriously, like one every other month for the past year or so) and bags up the wazoo.  My new vacuum has no belts and no bags.  I love it!  I vacuumed yesterday with the piece of shit and when I vacuumed with the Dyson today it looked like I hadn't vacuumed in months.  The canister was FULL.  Nasty! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm also a very happy girl because I paid *way* less for a Dyson at the Exchange than I would have anywhere else.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Yay&lt;/span&gt; me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-2996541459537524430?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/2996541459537524430/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=2996541459537524430' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/2996541459537524430'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/2996541459537524430'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/07/yes-it-sucks.html' title='Yes, It Sucks!'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-4481059648388733108</id><published>2007-07-17T19:17:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-17T19:18:16.074-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Birthday, Linda!</title><content type='html'>My friend Linda has a birthday this week.  Bad me, I can't remember if it's today or tomorrow, so I'll cover all bases!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy birthday, Linda!  I'm still not happy you abandoned me in Tennessee, but I hope your day is a great one!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-4481059648388733108?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/4481059648388733108/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=4481059648388733108' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/4481059648388733108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/4481059648388733108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/07/happy-birthday-linda.html' title='Happy Birthday, Linda!'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-4720075510213328934</id><published>2007-07-17T19:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-17T19:17:01.263-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Lights Out!</title><content type='html'>I don't know what it is about this area, but our power is constantly going out.  It's only for a second or so, but it's long enough to screw everything up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd say in the past week or so we've lost power three times.  And it's like this &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;every week,  &lt;/span&gt;without fail.  It's not usually out for long, although there have been a few times where it was out for a couple hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday it just did a quick flash, off and then on again.  Of course, that means the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;DirecTV&lt;/span&gt; had to reboot.  And the computers had to reboot.  The clocks need to be reset.  And my dryer stopped.  It's gotten to the point that I don't even bother to reset my clocks because I know I'll be doing it again in a few days.  I have a good old-fashioned analog clock in my living room, so I rely on that instead of the VCR or microwave. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thing is, the power isn't going out due to a thunderstorm or rain or anything.  It's apparently going out &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;because it can.&lt;/span&gt;  Or because this is The South and that's the way things work around here.  It's just really annoying and yet another reason I can't wait to get the heck out of here!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-4720075510213328934?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/4720075510213328934/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=4720075510213328934' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/4720075510213328934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/4720075510213328934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/07/lights-out.html' title='Lights Out!'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-1176674084708391234</id><published>2007-07-15T12:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-15T12:30:48.268-05:00</updated><title type='text'>July Book Review</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/RppXluRaH2I/AAAAAAAAABU/lC-qdUCtYlY/s1600-h/Moving+Is+Murder+flat.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/RppXluRaH2I/AAAAAAAAABU/lC-qdUCtYlY/s200/Moving+Is+Murder+flat.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087475034656218978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Moving is Murder by Sara &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Rosett&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;© 2006&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Kensington&lt;/span&gt; Books&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's about time there was a mystery with a military wife as protagonist!  &lt;a href="http://www.sararosett.com/index.htm"&gt;Sara &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Rosett&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; has written an engaging mystery featuring Ellie Avery, Air Force wife and mom to a newborn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Avery's have just moved to their new duty station when Ellie discovers the body of a murdered neighbor.  Before she knows it, Ellie is drawn into the investigation and her own life may be at stake.  Moving is Murder is a delightful book.  It's light and cozy, but never cloying.  Ellie is not one of those perfect characters-she struggles with a crying baby, bed head and not enough hours in the day, just like the rest of us.  But she's also determined and devoted to her family which makes her a very believable amateur sleuth.  The details of military life and all it entails are funny-and too true.  I personally loved when Ellie mutters to herself that she thought she and her husband had left "yard of the month" competition behind when they left on-base housing.  I can relate. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you're looking for a witty, entertaining read, look no further than Moving is Murder.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Rosett's&lt;/span&gt; second mystery, Staying at Home is a Killer, is also available from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Kensington&lt;/span&gt; Books.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-1176674084708391234?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/1176674084708391234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=1176674084708391234' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/1176674084708391234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/1176674084708391234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/07/july-book-review.html' title='July Book Review'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/RppXluRaH2I/AAAAAAAAABU/lC-qdUCtYlY/s72-c/Moving+Is+Murder+flat.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-6609873354958078653</id><published>2007-07-10T10:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-10T10:13:10.677-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Bronx is Burning</title><content type='html'>It's been a long time since a television program caught my interest, but after one episode, I'm addicted to &lt;a href="http://bronxisburning.com/"&gt;The Bronx is Burning&lt;/a&gt; on ESPN.  The show follows the 1977 Yankees in their pennant race, along with other events occurring in New York City that summer, namely the Son of Sam murders. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cast is fantastic:  Oliver &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Platt&lt;/span&gt; plays George &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Steinbrenner&lt;/span&gt;, John &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Turturro&lt;/span&gt; plays manager Billy Martin and Daniel &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Sunjata&lt;/span&gt; plays Reggie Jackson.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Platt's&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Steinbrenner&lt;/span&gt; is just exactly what I always thought &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Steinbrenner&lt;/span&gt; would be like and I can't help but laugh at him.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Turturro&lt;/span&gt; is perfectly scrappy and greasy, in true &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Billy&lt;/span&gt; Martin style.  And &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Sunjata&lt;/span&gt;?  Well, he definitely "gets" Jackson's ego.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, this is only an eight-hour miniseries.  How disappointing.  I mean, really!  What could be better than clubhouse gossip, on- and off-the-field rivalries and a few good murders thrown in?  What a winner!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-6609873354958078653?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/6609873354958078653/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=6609873354958078653' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/6609873354958078653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/6609873354958078653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/07/bronx-is-burning.html' title='The Bronx is Burning'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-4632844913489327716</id><published>2007-07-06T19:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-06T20:09:54.472-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Have a Nice Day!</title><content type='html'>Maybe it's my Midwestern upbringing, or the fact that I'm just a nice person, but I bet I say the words "have a nice day" at least 3 times a day, often to complete strangers.  So, tell me, is this something that just isn't done anymore?  It seems like lately I get no response when I tell someone to have a nice day.  Now, I'm not looking for anyone to tell &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;me&lt;/span&gt; to have a nice day, but some people's rudeness just astounds me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today the kids and I were out and about.  We went to Hancock Fabrics to get some foam and upholstery fabric so I can recover one of our office chairs.  I told the lady who rang up my items to have a nice day and she just turned away.  Eh, whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At Target the cashier smiled genuinely when I told her to have a nice day and, from the look on her face, she was surprised a customer would say such thing.   The library was another non-reaction.  Burger King?  Well, I'm still thinking about Burger King.  It took forever to get our food (in fact, someone in line two cars behind us apparently gave up and just left without their food).  When the girl finished handing us our stuff I told her to have a nice day and she &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;grunted&lt;/span&gt; at me.  Now, there was nothing special about my order.  I didn't make her work extra hard or even ask for freaking ketchup and napkins (in fact, I didn't get either of these things).  Really, did I deserve a grunt?  Talk about rude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guards at the gate on base always say thanks when I tell them to have a nice day-and I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;always  &lt;/span&gt;say it to them.  These poor men and women stand outside for a four-hour shift in the heat of summer and in the cold of winter.  Today, I greeted the guard, showed him my ID and told him to have a nice day.  He smiled and thanked me and I drove away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, what's the deal?  I'm always hearing about how polite people in the South are, but that's not my experience.  The &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;older&lt;/span&gt; people in the South are unfailingly polite.  The young people, with the exception of my Target cashier today, seem to be just the opposite. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well, I'm not going to let a bunch of rude people turn me into one of them.  I'll keep greeting people politely and thanking them when they've rung up my purchases and I'll even keep telling them to have a nice day, even if they just grunt at me in return.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-4632844913489327716?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/4632844913489327716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=4632844913489327716' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/4632844913489327716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/4632844913489327716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/07/have-nice-day.html' title='Have a Nice Day!'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-4768909171673794199</id><published>2007-07-03T18:18:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-03T18:23:13.357-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Independence Day!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/RoraVliMK9I/AAAAAAAAABM/PWLYPHy_Xaw/s1600-h/Fireworks.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/RoraVliMK9I/AAAAAAAAABM/PWLYPHy_Xaw/s200/Fireworks.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083115193828649938" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope everyone has a wonderful 4&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; of July!  Celebrate our country's independence safely and don't forget our men and women who are serving in Iraq and Afghanistan.  They truly know what it means to make a sacrifice for the freedom of all Americans!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-4768909171673794199?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/4768909171673794199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=4768909171673794199' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/4768909171673794199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/4768909171673794199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/07/independence-day.html' title='Independence Day!'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/RoraVliMK9I/AAAAAAAAABM/PWLYPHy_Xaw/s72-c/Fireworks.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-3216152394526771039</id><published>2007-06-28T16:41:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-28T16:45:06.531-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Correction</title><content type='html'>It has come to my attention that I forgot to pay homage to the most important of Barbie's friends and family, Stacie, Barbie's baby sister.  How on earth I could have forgotten Stacie is beyond me.  My own sister, also named Stacie (what a coincidence!) gave &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Marissah&lt;/span&gt; a Stacie doll for her birthday or Christmas one year.  Forgive me, those holidays all run together.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-3216152394526771039?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/3216152394526771039/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=3216152394526771039' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/3216152394526771039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/3216152394526771039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/06/correction.html' title='Correction'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-163427879923293273</id><published>2007-06-28T12:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-28T12:29:28.837-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Last night when I was trying to sleep it occurred to me that my house is Barbie-free.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Well, maybe not completely Barbie-free.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We still have a sad, lonely set of twin sheets that feature our &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;blonde&lt;/span&gt; and beautiful friend but, as my boys are the only ones with twin beds, they don’t get much use.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;There are no longer any Barbie dolls, clothes, shoes or accessories in our house, though.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Not a one.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; all gone to the great Barbie &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;emporium&lt;/span&gt; in the sky, courtesy of Waste Management, Inc. and Glad Force Flex garbage bags.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The whole Barbie thing at our house started when &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Marissah&lt;/span&gt; was two.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My lovely neighbor, who shall remain nameless (her name rhymes with bear-see, just a hint) decided that my daughter needed her first Barbie doll.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I was adamant that she did not need her first Barbie—she was two years old!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Well, Neighbor-who-shall-remain-nameless got her way and she gave &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Marissah&lt;/span&gt; a Barbie for Christmas.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Marissah&lt;/span&gt; liked it, of course.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;wasn&lt;/span&gt;’t anti-Barbie or anything, but I’m still not sure she’s a great role model for young girls.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Let’s face it, when Barbie leaves the “office” at night, we know she’s not going to a museum opening or even home to read a book.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;No, no, no.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Barbie’s heading home to watch Entertainment Tonight and thumb through the latest copy of People to see if there are any articles about her and Ken’s nasty break-up.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She’s not volunteering her time at an animal shelter or a soup kitchen, she’s spending hours on the phone with Skipper, dishing out advice (No, Skipper, you simply must wait for him to call.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Good girls don’t call boys!).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;isn&lt;/span&gt;’t even touching Barbie’s totally unrealistic body image.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;If Barbie were a real woman her measurements would be 38-18-34.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I don’t know about anyone else, but my 13-year-old daughter’s waist is bigger than that, by quite a few inches!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Yes, I know there are Teacher Barbie and Astronaut Barbie and probably even Rocket Scientist Barbie, but there is also Barbie and Tanner.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Tanner is a dog and he poops.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Yes, he poops.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Never fear, though, Barbie has her own little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;pooper&lt;/span&gt; scooper and a lovely pink trash bin in which to dispose of Tanner’s waste.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And we also have Barbie Divas-these are the new version of that 80s hit, Barbie and The Rockers!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Our girls can learn to dress like Britney Spears and Lindsay &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Lohan&lt;/span&gt;, just what we’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; always wanted!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I had a few Barbies when I was growing up, but not many.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I just &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;wasn&lt;/span&gt;’t that into them.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My most beloved Barbie &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;wasn&lt;/span&gt;’t a Barbie at all.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was Barbie’s friend, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Tropical Miko&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Now, we all understand Barbie’s friends, don’t we?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Most girls never wanted to play with them-they were just “extras.”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Face it, Barbie had to have a little competition for Ken’s affections.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;That’s where Teresa and Skipper and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Miko&lt;/span&gt; came in.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Miko&lt;/span&gt;, well, she’s another story altogether.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She’s Barbie’s version of that famous line:&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;“I’m not prejudiced!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Some of my best friends are black!”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;So while I was lying in bed last night, I was kind of surprised by the little bit of sadness I felt.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’ll never again find a naked Barbie in the fridge or the bathtub.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’ll never again play Barbies with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Marissah&lt;/span&gt;, teaching her how to dress the dolls and showing her the finer points of color coordination.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;On the other hand, I’ll never again step on a Barbie shoe in my bare feet in the middle of the night-and that is something for which I am truly thankful!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I guess I’m mostly sad that my little girl has grown up and left her Barbies behind.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;While I was writing this, I turned to Barbie.com for assistance.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;Marissah&lt;/span&gt; noticed and asked what I was doing.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I told her I was looking for something.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;“For me?” she asked.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;“No,” I told her.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;“Good!” she said.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-163427879923293273?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/163427879923293273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=163427879923293273' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/163427879923293273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/163427879923293273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/06/last-night-when-i-was-trying-to-sleep.html' title=''/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-1094672478620097385</id><published>2007-06-27T20:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-27T20:19:28.545-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Slap Jack!</title><content type='html'>Aaron has a new favorite game.  Yes, we've been playing Slap Jack all. day. long.  During one of our rounds I noticed we were short a few cards, three to be exact.  I sent him on a treasure hunt to find them, but he only returned with two.  Figure the odds on this:  of the three cards we were missing, two of them were Jacks.  He only found one.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Hahaha&lt;/span&gt;!  Makes Slap Jack a little more interesting, at least.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He beat me the last game and proceeded to sing "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Woowoowoowoowoowoowoo&lt;/span&gt;!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-1094672478620097385?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/1094672478620097385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=1094672478620097385' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/1094672478620097385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/1094672478620097385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/06/slap-jack.html' title='Slap Jack!'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-1121666942473992756</id><published>2007-06-15T19:15:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-15T19:25:20.095-05:00</updated><title type='text'>When I Rule the World.....</title><content type='html'>A Louisiana town passed an interesting law this week.  They've made the "offense" of wearing sagging pants that show a person's underwear (or "private parts" as the mayor called them) punishable by up to six months in jail and a $500 fine.  Read it &lt;a href="http://news.aol.com/topnews/articles/_a/louisiana-town-bans-sagging-pants/20070614105409990001"&gt;here.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, of course I can't say I agree with this new law.  Let's save jail space for the assholes who really deserve it:  rapists, murderers, drug dealers and deadbeat parents.  But let's have a little fun with this.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I rule the world garments containing more than 5% Spandex will be banned on anyone who weighs over 100 pounds.  Yeah, that's pretty much everyone and for a damn good reason, too! Spandex doesn't look good on anyone with even a little meat on their bones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Speedos&lt;/span&gt;?  We'll never have to see them again once I'm Queen of Everything.  Well, maybe I can make an exception for competitive swimmers and divers because, in my opinion, swimmers are extremely sexy and I enjoy seeing their bodies.  But they will never be allowed on a public beach again!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Crocs&lt;/span&gt;.  See previous post. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What would you ban if you ruled the world?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-1121666942473992756?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/1121666942473992756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=1121666942473992756' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/1121666942473992756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/1121666942473992756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/06/when-i-rule-world.html' title='When I Rule the World.....'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-3606380144658658587</id><published>2007-06-15T10:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-15T10:04:32.974-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Crocs....Again</title><content type='html'>I've said it before and I'll say it again:  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Crocs&lt;/span&gt; are yucky.   If you weren't convinced before, check out &lt;a href="http://www.styledash.com/2007/06/13/george-w-bush-caught-wearing-crocs/"&gt;who's wearing them now.&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I rest my case.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-3606380144658658587?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/3606380144658658587/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=3606380144658658587' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/3606380144658658587'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/3606380144658658587'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/06/crocsagain.html' title='Crocs....Again'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-4985012098646113218</id><published>2007-06-11T14:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-11T14:34:15.437-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Big News!</title><content type='html'>My baby just wrote his name &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;all by himself&lt;/span&gt; for the first time!!!  He's growing up so fast!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-4985012098646113218?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/4985012098646113218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=4985012098646113218' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/4985012098646113218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/4985012098646113218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/06/big-news.html' title='Big News!'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-8081844031154506993</id><published>2007-06-08T19:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-08T19:47:36.083-05:00</updated><title type='text'>We Now Return to Your Regularly Scheduled Programming</title><content type='html'>My kids came home from camp yesterday.  My house is officially a disaster area again.  Only two months until they go back to school.......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-8081844031154506993?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/8081844031154506993/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=8081844031154506993' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/8081844031154506993'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/8081844031154506993'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/06/we-now-return-to-your-regularly.html' title='We Now Return to Your Regularly Scheduled Programming'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-1724003992885484860</id><published>2007-06-01T19:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-01T20:00:10.995-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Why I Hate Wal-Mart</title><content type='html'>I've been to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Wal&lt;/span&gt;-Mart twice today.  I'm never going back.  Not even for another adorable pair of Happy Bunny pajamas (purple and they say "You'd be cooler if you were me.").  I'm just NEVER going back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aaron and I went to the Evil W this morning for bread, milk, cigarettes, etc.  Got into the Express lane (because that's the only lane you can purchase cigarettes, of course) and proceeded to wait for 20 minutes (maybe even more).  The cashier was having trouble and the customer at the front of the line was unsatisfied with her total or &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;something&lt;/span&gt; and this required several calls for help and much nitpicking.  Finally it was my turn....and it turns out the cashier is also slower than a snail!  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Sheesh&lt;/span&gt;, Aaron could have rung us up faster and he's never worked a register.  I was glad to leave, obviously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight the big kids and I had their final meeting before &lt;a href="http://www.donhq.navy.mil/defy/"&gt;DEFY camp&lt;/a&gt;.  They are all signed up and got their long, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;long&lt;/span&gt; lists of things they need so we headed to the Evil W so I wouldn't have to go tomorrow (since I'll be doing laundry to make sure they have enough clothes for camp tomorrow).  We got all our travel size toothpastes and shampoos and our toothbrushes and bug spray and got in line to check out.  I prefer to use the self checkout and since I didn't need cigarettes, that's where we went.  And then we waited.  And waited.  And waited.  Turns out &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;all of the registers&lt;/span&gt; decided to crash.  All of them.  Every. Last. One.  I have never seen so many people in line before.  I have never seen so many crabby people in line before.  It was insane.  We waited &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;at least&lt;/span&gt; 30 minutes before the registers came back up and then another 5 or 10 before the lady came to restart the self checkout registers.  No kidding, I was ready to cry.  We finally left the Evil W &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ninety&lt;/span&gt; minutes after we entered the store, and we left without beach towels because when I tried to scan them I learned they had &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;no bar codes anywhere&lt;/span&gt; and I'm certain you can understand why I was not willing to ask someone for help. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm never going back to that house of horrors again.  OK, that's a lie.  But I'm not going again for a really long time and at some point I'm sure I'll have to go back because there's nowhere else to shop in this Godforsaken two-bit hick town.  UGH!!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-1724003992885484860?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/1724003992885484860/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=1724003992885484860' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/1724003992885484860'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/1724003992885484860'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/06/why-i-hate-wal-mart.html' title='Why I Hate Wal-Mart'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-6008838000715368017</id><published>2007-06-01T14:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-01T14:10:45.212-05:00</updated><title type='text'>3 am</title><content type='html'>About two years ago I was waking up every night at the same exact time:  4:09 am.  Every single night, never a minute later or earlier.  At the time I blamed a neighbor's alarm clock or something like that-something that was waking me up but that I just couldn't put my finger on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the past week I've been waking up around 3 am every single night.  Not an exact time, I don't think, but I can't tell for certain.  See, our power went out about a week ago and I haven't reset my alarm clock since.  It's a statement.  It says "My kids are done with school for the summer and I have no reason to set my alarm clock.  So there!"  I'd look at Mike's clock, but since he had his surgery and is wearing an immobilizer on his shoulder and arm it's like sleeping with a humpback whale.  I look over and all I see is this huge &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;mound&lt;/span&gt; in bed next to me.  Well, two mounds really.  One mound is his 8000 pillows and his head and the other mound is his arm in the immobilizer.  In order to see his clock I'd actually have to sit up and I just don't have that desire.  Instead, I look at my clock, subtract two (I do know it's two &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;hours&lt;/span&gt; off, but this could be am or pm and I don't care) and say "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Hmm&lt;/span&gt;, I'm awake again at 3 am.  Wonder why that is?"  and then I stare at the ceiling for 30 minutes or so until I fall asleep again.  Gotta love it.  Not.  I do take something to help me sleep, but it helps me fall asleep, not necessarily &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;stay&lt;/span&gt; asleep.  Weird.  In any case, it doesn't really matter.  My kids have been letting me sleep in and it's sheer bliss to wake at 9:00 am instead of 5:30.  I dread August and having to make sure &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Marissah&lt;/span&gt; is at the bus stop by 6:20 every morning.  UGH!!!!!  Hopefully our schedules will be more normal after we move......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-6008838000715368017?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/6008838000715368017/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=6008838000715368017' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/6008838000715368017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/6008838000715368017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/06/3-am.html' title='3 am'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-5952977838519512411</id><published>2007-06-01T13:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-01T14:02:21.249-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Bird Update</title><content type='html'>It's been over a week now with no sign of mommy bird.  She's apparently abandoned her eggs.  :(  There are only four there-at one point she pushed one of the eggs out of the nest and I put it back in.  Next time I looked it was completely gone.  And no, it wasn't just after that that she abandoned the nest. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I have four unhatched (and will never hatch) house wren eggs, two lovely (cough, cough) bird's nests, and one dead impatiens plant.  Lucky me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-5952977838519512411?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/5952977838519512411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=5952977838519512411' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/5952977838519512411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/5952977838519512411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/06/another-bird-update.html' title='Another Bird Update'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-1272180793492362565</id><published>2007-05-22T09:08:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-22T09:17:26.953-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Overheard.....</title><content type='html'>Micah (to Daddy):  I wonder how much is in a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;crapload&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Micah (to Mom):  Isn't it illegal to kiss someone &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;else's&lt;/span&gt; mom?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aaron (after Doc ran out the front door):  I'm glad he's gone.  I'm sick of that mangy mutt.  He gives me a headache when he barks all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Micah (to Aaron, the night before my birthday):  Aaron, we can't put 33 candles on the cake!  We'll burn the whole house down!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aaron (to Mom):  When I'm a Dad then I can say shit!  (And yes, he did say it while telling me that, which called for &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;another&lt;/span&gt; explanation of why you can't say that word, even when you're talking about that word.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aaron (in response to me singing the song "Tell Me Something Good" this morning while picking up the house):  "Nana's coming tomorrow.  And I love you!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-1272180793492362565?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/1272180793492362565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=1272180793492362565' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/1272180793492362565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/1272180793492362565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/05/overheard.html' title='Overheard.....'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-1135556684320678049</id><published>2007-05-18T07:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-18T07:31:53.445-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Post-Birthday Report</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I turned 33.  I don't feel any older (thank God) and, according to Micah, I don't look old because I have no gray hair and no wrinkles (again, thank God).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got a beautiful pendant for my birthday from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Meircee&lt;/span&gt;, and Mike and the kids spoiled me.  Mike took Micah along with him to shop for me (I thought they were just going to get a cake).  They came home with yellow and white daisies in a bright yellow happy face mug (Micah has always had a thing for happy faces &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;LOL&lt;/span&gt;) and gorgeous sapphire earrings.  Micah told me as I was opening the earrings that they cost more than $100 (he has no qualms about telling you what "he" spent).  Mike later told me Micah wanted to buy me a fake flower so I "could have it forever," but then the smiley face mug caught his eye from practically across the store.  ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning, Micah himself told me that Dad didn't want me to have fake diamonds, but the real diamonds were really expensive.  "Mom, some of them cost more than $1,000!"  I get the feeling there was a little debate at the jewelry counter of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;NEX&lt;/span&gt;, with Micah lobbying for the shiny fake diamonds and Daddy trying to explain why fake is never a good idea if you enjoy your sex life (without mentioning said sex life, that is).  Never fear, I explained to him that you never (ever, ever, ever) buy fake diamonds for a woman.  When he asked why I told him that you just DON'T, that it's a rule.  I also told him that if you really love a woman you will save your money for months and months to buy her real, expensive diamonds instead of cheap fakes.   With Micah's tendency to be literal at all times, in all things, I think his future girlfriends and wife are now safe from cubic &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;zirconium&lt;/span&gt; and cut glass (Emily, take note-he may be a pain in other respects, but you won't have to school him in jewelry-buying).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh-my cake was a devil's food with cookies and cream icing and pieces of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Oreos&lt;/span&gt;.  Micah also chose this, but I bet you already knew that!  I got a few bites and let the kids enjoy the rest.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-1135556684320678049?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/1135556684320678049/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=1135556684320678049' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/1135556684320678049'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/1135556684320678049'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/05/post-birthday-report.html' title='The Post-Birthday Report'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-4148325141652947096</id><published>2007-05-11T20:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-11T21:17:53.668-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Truth about Laundry</title><content type='html'>1.  The Laundry Defect&lt;br /&gt;Amazingly, every member of my family except me lacks the special ability to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;see&lt;/span&gt; dirty laundry.  Yes, it's true.  I call it the laundry  defect.  At least once a week I send the kids upstairs to bring their hampers down.  Inevitably, the hampers come down about half full.  I then go upstairs and fill &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;two&lt;/span&gt; freaking baskets of things they missed.  They apparently never think to look in the bathrooms or even, for that matter, on their own bedroom floors.  If it's not in the hamper it must not need to be washed, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;hmmm&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  The Breeding Factor&lt;br /&gt;Anyone who has ever done &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;laundry&lt;/span&gt; knows about the Breeding Factor.  This is the phenomena that unfailingly causes your laundry pile to double-or even &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;triple&lt;/span&gt;-overnight.  It has no known cause.  If you drop a single dirty t-shirt into the empty &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;laundry&lt;/span&gt; hamper before bed, by the time you wake up in the morning it will have grown into three shirts, a pair of jeans and one sock (I'll get to the sock thing later).  I'm working on a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;laundricide&lt;/span&gt; right now (you know, pesticide for laundry).  You'll hear more about this as soon as I get my patent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  The Sock Monster&lt;br /&gt;Contrary to what your mother told you when you were a child, monsters do exist.  They feed on socks exclusively.  And they only eat one at a time.  And they are obsessive-compulsive, so the socks must not come from the same pair.  Unfortunately, the Sock Monster does not rule out the Breeding Factor. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  The Invisible Stain&lt;br /&gt;Yes, this one is tricky.  I check the clothes carefully before I put them in the washer with the intention of using the Spray N Wash to banish any and all stains.  When none are found I wash and dry the load.  And I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;always&lt;/span&gt; find at least one stain that was invisible &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;until the garment was washed.&lt;/span&gt;  I'm beginning to think it's a conspiracy.  We all know that once that garment has been in the dryer that stain is &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;never&lt;/span&gt; coming out.  And yet, it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;apparently&lt;/span&gt; didn't even occur until the garment was in the wash.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Hmmm&lt;/span&gt;......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  Drawer Deficiency&lt;br /&gt;I've become convinced that there is no reason for me to be all caught up on laundry because there is simply not enough room in my house to store all the clean clothes.  I can do one load of laundry and the drawers are full.  Where the heck am I supposed to put the other four loads?  Hell, why bother to do them at all if there's nowhere to put them???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.  The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Hand Washing&lt;/span&gt; Myth&lt;br /&gt;Don't buy into this.  Unless it's cashmere, throw it into a lingerie bag and wash in cold water on the delicate cycle.  If it's cashmere you should be able to afford dry cleaning (I have no cashmere and I don't even know where the dry cleaner is in this town).  This rule was created by some  misogynistic man who loves to see women slumped over the bathroom sink trying to get all the damn Woolite bubbles out of her silk blouse without creating wrinkles. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.  Abundant Hampers&lt;br /&gt;If you have many hampers you will always feel like you're winning the laundry battle.  Truly, if  you have six hampers and only three of them are full you're doing great, aren't you?  I have five hampers and two baskets.  Four are full right now.  I'm still winning.  Go now to Target and buy at least two more baskets.  You'll probably never fill them, thus you will, from now on, always feel like you're more on top of things.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-4148325141652947096?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/4148325141652947096/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=4148325141652947096' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/4148325141652947096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/4148325141652947096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/05/truth-about-laundry.html' title='The Truth about Laundry'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-6116685478111180743</id><published>2007-05-09T18:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-09T18:30:48.135-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Birdie Update</title><content type='html'>Aaron and I checked on our birdie "friends" today.  The one nest is still empty and the other holds five eggs.  None have hatched yet.  I'm guessing the maker of the other nest was driven off.  Or maybe they moved to better digs.  I'm sure some other unsuspecting sucker in the neighborhood hung a plant or two.  Maybe someone hung a pretty fern (lots of cover there) or a miniature rose (I can only hope the birds got poked a few times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My plant used to look like this (no this isn't actually my plant, but mine &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;was  &lt;/span&gt;this lush):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/RkJZXqkja_I/AAAAAAAAABE/E_DtIxmG2NA/s1600-h/double_impatiens_fiesta_rose+.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/RkJZXqkja_I/AAAAAAAAABE/E_DtIxmG2NA/s200/double_impatiens_fiesta_rose+.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5062707194217327602" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's now deader than dead.    What a disappointment.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-6116685478111180743?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/6116685478111180743/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=6116685478111180743' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/6116685478111180743'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/6116685478111180743'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/05/birdie-update.html' title='Birdie Update'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/RkJZXqkja_I/AAAAAAAAABE/E_DtIxmG2NA/s72-c/double_impatiens_fiesta_rose+.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-2220810983473082418</id><published>2007-05-05T13:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-05T13:48:21.970-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Missed It!</title><content type='html'>I missed posting a special birthday blog for my sister!  She turned THIRTY on Wednesday.  She's now officially old.  Course, it doesn't really matter that I missed it.  She has bigger things to worry about.  As of this very moment she's exploring the streets of New York City.  Yes, the lucky bitch is in New York.  And I'm jealous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She called me earlier from &lt;a href="http://www.strandbooks.com/"&gt;Strand Bookstore&lt;/a&gt;.  She's going to buy me a tote bag because she loves me (and because I asked nicely). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While she's living it up in The City, I'm sweating my butt off and waiting for yet another rain storm in the Backwoods.  Just doesn't seem fair, does it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love you anyway, Sis.  Happy (late) birthday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-2220810983473082418?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/2220810983473082418/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=2220810983473082418' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/2220810983473082418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/2220810983473082418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/05/i-missed-it.html' title='I Missed It!'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-628843731277874134</id><published>2007-05-01T16:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-01T16:13:58.420-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What Am I Missing??</title><content type='html'>What's the deal with &lt;a href="http://www.verabradley.com/Site/Home.aspx?"&gt;Vera Bradley handbags and stuff&lt;/a&gt;?  I see them everywhere, our Exchange even carries them.  No offense to anyone who loves them, but why on earth would I pay $50 (or more) for some purse that looks like my mom might have sewn it herself and carried it back in 1977?  (No offense, Mom, but I think you did have one that resembled these.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;LOL&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is this something like &lt;a href="http://www.crocs.com/home.jsp"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Crocs&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;?  I think these are the ugliest shoes and I don't care how comfortable they are, I wouldn't be caught dead wearing them.  Yuck! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My theory is it's like the Emperor's new clothes.  Everyone knows these purses and shoes are ugly, but they're all afraid to say it.  I'm not.  Again, I say, YUCK!  Get yourself some &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Keds&lt;/span&gt; and a cute little purse from Target instead.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-628843731277874134?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/628843731277874134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=628843731277874134' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/628843731277874134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/628843731277874134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/05/what-am-i-missing.html' title='What Am I Missing??'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-4830489181699541945</id><published>2007-04-30T13:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-30T13:54:08.326-05:00</updated><title type='text'>For the Birds</title><content type='html'>Apparently those birds that were keeping me up all night do work the night shift.  Two years ago I had a lovely (cough) family of house wrens build a nest in my hanging impatiens plant.  Last year I didn't have any hanging plants.  This year I figured it was safe again, that my birdie "friends" would have moved on to greener pastures.  I was wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I  first noticed their new nest about 2 days after I hung the plant up.  I immediately removed the nest because there were no eggs in it.  I can't remember if I checked again yesterday or Saturday, but the plant was clear of nests.  This morning I checked again.  I found not one, but *two* nests and one of those nests has three eggs in it!  ACK!!!!!  So, once again, I am not going to have a pretty hanging plant.  I can't water it right with nests in it and I can't bring myself to take the nests out if there are eggs in there.  I suppose I should be grateful.  My neighbors have a quite large nest that was built on the frame of one of their bikes (hanging from the carport ceiling).  There were *three* adult birds sitting in it when I showed it to Aaron earlier.  Someone at their house won't be riding their bike for a while.  My grandma once left a pair of my grandpa's jeans on the wash line to dry overnight.  The next morning the house wrens had built a nest in the pocket of those jeans, so Grandma left them there until the eggs hatched.  Apparently they are real opportunists.  Kind of like squatters, I suppose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, all is not lost.  Aaron loves birdies and he really enjoyed seeing the eggs.  He's looking forward to them hatching and seeing baby birdies again.  I did move the plant so it's not right next to the front door.  The last thing I need is to get dive-bombed by a little freaking bird whenever I leave my house.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-4830489181699541945?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/4830489181699541945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=4830489181699541945' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/4830489181699541945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/4830489181699541945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/04/for-birds.html' title='For the Birds'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-4756498614273473049</id><published>2007-04-23T09:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-23T09:55:06.430-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Poor Micah</title><content type='html'>This morning Doc ate a frog.  Micah is very upset.  I'm still laughing and will continue to do so as long as the frog doesn't make an encore appearance in the form of vomit in my house.  Poor Micah.  Last night he found out &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Marissah&lt;/span&gt; is dissecting a frog on her field trip to the zoo on Tuesday and now this........How will he ever recover? (snicker)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-4756498614273473049?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/4756498614273473049/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=4756498614273473049' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/4756498614273473049'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/4756498614273473049'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/04/poor-micah.html' title='Poor Micah'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-6804820039191356472</id><published>2007-04-18T14:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-18T14:43:16.621-05:00</updated><title type='text'>As Seen on TV</title><content type='html'>Aaron has a real affinity for anything and everything sold on television.  He wants Moon Sand and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Floam&lt;/span&gt;.  He wants an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;AirHog&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Blendy&lt;/span&gt; Pens.  But his fascination doesn't end with himself.  No, no, no.  He's constantly telling me about the things for the whole family, including the Ab Lounger ("Mom, you'll never have to do sit-ups again," he tells me--as if I do them now!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today while Aaron was watching TV he had a brainstorm!  "Mom, if Nana falls out of bed and gets hurt she might need &lt;a href="http://www.lifealert.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;LifeAlert&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;!"  I laughed so hard I thought I'd cry.  And then I called my mom so she could laugh with me.  Aaron, of course, couldn't understand what was so funny.  He doesn't want to risk Nana falling out of bed and getting hurt.  In fact, he just asked again if we can get that for Nana (without being prompted by a commercial this time).  Isn't he a nice kid, worrying about his grandma like that?  ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-6804820039191356472?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/6804820039191356472/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=6804820039191356472' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/6804820039191356472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/6804820039191356472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/04/as-seen-on-tv.html' title='As Seen on TV'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-3878482952996816604</id><published>2007-04-16T13:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-16T13:16:06.047-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm mean....</title><content type='html'>Doc, our puppy, has a huge fear of the vacuum cleaner.  I don't even have to turn it on, as soon as I pull it out of the closet he's barking at it in a very threatening manner.  Once I turn it on I usually don't have to worry about him because he hides from me (and the vacuum) under the dining room table. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I was using the hose to vacuum around the legs of my dining room table and Doc came over to voice his displeasure with that loud machine.  I thought maybe I could get him to see that the vacuum wouldn't hurt him, so I held the nozzle out toward him.  Well......at that very moment he lunged toward it to bark.....and ended up getting his nose sucked by the nozzle.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;OMG&lt;/span&gt;!  The look on his face was so priceless as he turned tail and ran.  He was too scared to even bark again.  And me, I am so evil, I laughed until I thought I would pee my pants.  It was seriously funny.  I doubt he'll ever recover from this and will remain terrified of the vacuum cleaner forever...  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Hahahahahah&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-3878482952996816604?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/3878482952996816604/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=3878482952996816604' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/3878482952996816604'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/3878482952996816604'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/04/im-mean.html' title='I&apos;m mean....'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-7598636663385559284</id><published>2007-04-16T07:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-16T07:24:08.532-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Birthday, Big Boy!</title><content type='html'>My baby is FIVE today.  How in the world did this happen?  Seems like just last week I was holding him in my arms, wondering over his tiny little hands and feet.  Wasn't it just a few days ago that he was learning to walk, all unsteady but with a big smile on his face?  And I swear it was just &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;yesterday&lt;/span&gt; that he was starting to talk, a few words at a time, but making sure we knew exactly what he was saying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now my baby is a big boy.  He'll start Kindergarten in the fall.  He's older now than Micah was on the day Aaron was born.  It just doesn't seem possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, happy birthday to my big boy!  Love you, Aaron.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P. S. When I asked Aaron what kind of presents he wanted for his birthday he told me "Just look in my bedroom.  Whatever you don't see, that's what I want."  Not asking for much, is he?  ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-7598636663385559284?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/7598636663385559284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=7598636663385559284' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/7598636663385559284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/7598636663385559284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/04/happy-birthday-big-boy.html' title='Happy Birthday, Big Boy!'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-3537203181158616070</id><published>2007-04-12T10:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-12T10:45:08.760-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Adding to the Teen Angst</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I introduced &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Marissah&lt;/span&gt; to one of my all-time favorite songs:  Paradise by the Dashboard Light by &lt;a href="http://www.meatloaf.net/"&gt;Meat Loaf&lt;/a&gt;.  Yes, I know it's cheesy, but it's high school memories!  I've often told people that one of the reasons I knew Mike was the right man for me is that he didn't scoff at my Meat Loaf &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;CDs&lt;/span&gt; and instead sang along. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not only did &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Marissah&lt;/span&gt; hate the song ("It's stupid."), but she became quite embarrassed, even &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;blushing&lt;/span&gt; a lovely shade of red, when I began singing it in the commissary.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Hahahahahah&lt;/span&gt;!  Ah yes, I now have a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;weapon&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each and every time she got sassy with me last night I started to sing.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"I can see paradise by the dashboard light...."&lt;/span&gt;  Amazingly enough, this works &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;well&lt;/span&gt;.  I love it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-3537203181158616070?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/3537203181158616070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=3537203181158616070' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/3537203181158616070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/3537203181158616070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/04/adding-to-teen-angst.html' title='Adding to the Teen Angst'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-3146592697638631599</id><published>2007-04-06T13:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-06T13:23:43.684-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Book Review:  On Call in Hell</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/RhaOZcELTYI/AAAAAAAAAA0/TAzhc4GegEw/s1600-h/ocih.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/RhaOZcELTYI/AAAAAAAAAA0/TAzhc4GegEw/s200/ocih.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5050380599824174466" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Call in Hell:  A Doctor's Iraq War Story&lt;br /&gt;by &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Cdr&lt;/span&gt;. Richard &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Jadick&lt;/span&gt; with Thomas Hayden&lt;br /&gt;©2007&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;On Call in Hell&lt;/span&gt; is the account of Navy battalion surgeon Richard &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Jadick's&lt;/span&gt; experience in Iraq.  From the relative calm of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Haditha&lt;/span&gt; Dam to the Battle of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Fallujah&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Jadick&lt;/span&gt; and his corpsmen ran their makeshift trauma centers, trying valiantly to save the lives of young Marines.  The book is an inside look into battlefield medicine and it's an incredible read.  I'll never again look at corpsmen or Navy doctors in the same way.  Highly recommended, even if you don't care for war accounts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-3146592697638631599?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/3146592697638631599/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=3146592697638631599' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/3146592697638631599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/3146592697638631599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/04/book-review-on-call-in-hell.html' title='Book Review:  On Call in Hell'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/RhaOZcELTYI/AAAAAAAAAA0/TAzhc4GegEw/s72-c/ocih.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-6241767778068734310</id><published>2007-04-03T15:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-03T15:53:51.832-05:00</updated><title type='text'>From the Mouths of Babes.....</title><content type='html'>Aaron:  Mom, close the window because I'm getting cold!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:  The window isn't even open.  It must be your imagination.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aaron:  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Uhhhhh&lt;/span&gt;!  I don't *have* an imagination!  I only have an imagination if I have a big box!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Still not sure where the big box comes in, but it's pretty funny!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-6241767778068734310?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/6241767778068734310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=6241767778068734310' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/6241767778068734310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/6241767778068734310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/04/from-mouths-of-babes.html' title='From the Mouths of Babes.....'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-1727849353603621402</id><published>2007-04-03T15:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-03T15:51:03.911-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Stupid Bloody Birds!</title><content type='html'>I didn't get much sleep last night.  It wasn't because of my kids, as you'd likely guess.  Nooooooo.  Instead I had some stupid-ass birds chirping outside my window all. night. long.  Yes, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;during the night.  When it's dark!&lt;/span&gt;  Apparently these birds either have their days and nights mixed up (a la human babies) or they're currently working the night shift.  Whatever it is, it better stop.  I've had my windows open during the night because it's been nice and cool (compared to our daytime temps which are in the upper 80s already), but that's going to have to change if these effing birds don't shut up.  I'm no bird-hater (unless they're flying near me and/or swooping, then all bets are off), but I'm more than tempted to buy a damn shotgun and let fly out my bedroom window.  If nothing else maybe it would scare them off. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stacie, wanna come have some target practice?  We can tell Mom they were starlings........ &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Heh&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P. S. I really love that spellcheck didn't prompt me to correct "stupid-ass."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-1727849353603621402?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/1727849353603621402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=1727849353603621402' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/1727849353603621402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/1727849353603621402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/04/stupid-bloody-birds.html' title='Stupid Bloody Birds!'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-873843357314144868</id><published>2007-04-01T11:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-01T11:17:29.066-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It Should Be a National Holiday!</title><content type='html'>Yes, it's Opening Day!  If you don't know what I'm talking about you have no business being an American and that's final.  Baseball season opens today and this day should be celebrated like Thanksgiving and the Fourth of July.  In fact, I think we can just scrap Columbus Day and celebrate Opening Day instead.  Ah, when I'm Queen of the Universe things will be different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was catching up with rosters in the paper today, I found that I must remain a Yankees fan.  Now, I'm always a Twins fan.  Forever.  But I change my other team allegiances based on players.  I only became a Yankees fan because &lt;a href="http://www.baseball-reference.com/k/knoblch01.shtml"&gt;Chuck &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Knoblauch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; played for them.  Of course, along the way I also became an &lt;a href="http://sports.espn.go.com/mlb/players/profile?statsId=5331"&gt;Andy &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Pettite&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; fan.  I love &lt;a href="http://www.mlb.com/players/jeter_derek/index.jsp"&gt;Derek &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Jeter&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; (my God, who doesn't?) and &lt;a href="http://newyork.yankees.mlb.com/team/player.jsp?player_id=137006"&gt;Doug &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Mientkiewicz&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; has been a favorite since he played for the Twins.  So, what's a girl to do when &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Pettite&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Jeter&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Mientkiewicz&lt;/span&gt; all play for the Yankees, along with Mariano Rivera and Johnny Damon?  Well, she's gotta stay a Yankees fan!  Ah......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-873843357314144868?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/873843357314144868/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=873843357314144868' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/873843357314144868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/873843357314144868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/04/it-should-be-national-holiday.html' title='It Should Be a National Holiday!'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-221815749320197905</id><published>2007-03-10T14:57:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-10T15:11:30.837-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I'll Miss about the South</title><content type='html'>Admittedly, there aren't many things I'll miss about the South, but there are a few.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  Spring.  Yes, spring is gorgeous everywhere, but it's especially beautiful here.  Right now the trees are blossoming, including the pink dogwoods, and the air smells heavenly.  This area may have nothing else going for it, but it sure is pretty in the spring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  Two words:  sweet tea.  If you've never had it, try it.  But &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;only&lt;/span&gt; if you can get the real thing.  Ordering an iced tea and then adding sugar is not the same.  If you want an easy recipe for true Southern sweet tea let me know.  It takes five minutes to make it and it's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;delish&lt;/span&gt;!  I can make this at home no matter where I live, but there is something &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;so right&lt;/span&gt; about being able to order this in any restaurant with my meal.  I never order soda when we go out to eat, only sweet tea.  Yum!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  The food.  Yes, I know it's not good for me.  No one should eat green beans with bacon every night of the week.  No one needs fried green tomatoes more than once or twice a year.  But I'm pretty sure it's going to be damn hard to find either of these things in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Granolaland&lt;/span&gt; (aka California), never mind the more unfamiliar delicacies like fried chicken livers (don't knock them until you've tried them!).  Of course, it's pretty damn hard to find decent seafood, sushi or Mexican food here, which I know are abundant in California.  I guess &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;I'll&lt;/span&gt; survive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  Thunderstorms.  San Diego doesn't get those.  Well, maybe once a year they get thunder, but it's short-lived and never really amounts to anything.  Here we get these about once a week from April to November.  This is also why there are real flowers that grow in Memphis and not just &lt;a href="http://toptropicals.com/catalog/uid/Osteospermum_fruticosum.htm"&gt;freeway daisies&lt;/a&gt;, as in San Diego (unless, of course, you spend your entire paycheck paying the water bill for your garden). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's it.  Four whole things I'm going to miss about the South.  Wow.  I could probably write for two days  about all the things I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;won't  &lt;/span&gt;miss, but I'll save that for later.  ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-221815749320197905?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/221815749320197905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=221815749320197905' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/221815749320197905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/221815749320197905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/03/things-ill-miss-about-south.html' title='Things I&apos;ll Miss about the South'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-9021378012718149433</id><published>2007-03-10T14:53:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-10T14:56:53.038-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My New Discovery</title><content type='html'>Ever since learning the nutrition content of my beloved Peppermint Mocha from Starbucks, I've felt guilty every time I've ordered it.  Today I tried something new:  Iced Passion Tea.  Oh my word is it good!!!!  And it's a mere 80 calories.  Plus, it's nearly 80 degrees here today.  I'm not in the mood for hot coffee.  It was also cheap-$1.91 for a grande!  :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-9021378012718149433?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/9021378012718149433/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=9021378012718149433' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/9021378012718149433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/9021378012718149433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/03/my-new-discovery.html' title='My New Discovery'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-9037289131888325216</id><published>2007-03-10T09:38:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-10T09:42:12.868-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Career Women</title><content type='html'>Two of my favorite women in the whole world are moving up the career ladder.  My sister has taken a new job with her company.  Something about risk management and analysis and other things that made my eyes glaze over.  Woo hoo!  And Meircee has a tentative offer to move up in her job to a great position with lots and lots of room for advancement and someone who sounds like a great boss.  Congratulations to my favorite working girls!  :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-9037289131888325216?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/9037289131888325216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=9037289131888325216' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/9037289131888325216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/9037289131888325216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/03/career-women.html' title='Career Women'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-6543241707300221647</id><published>2007-03-09T08:22:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-09T08:31:19.140-06:00</updated><title type='text'>23 Days!</title><content type='html'>Just 23 more days until baseball season opens!  Woo hoo!!!!!!  No teams held my interest well last season, but this year I'll start following &lt;a href="http://sandiego.padres.mlb.com/index.jsp?c_id=sd"&gt;The Padres&lt;/a&gt; since they're going to be my "home team" again.  I always keep track of &lt;a href="http://minnesota.twins.mlb.com/index.jsp?c_id=min"&gt;The Twins&lt;/a&gt;, of course.    Maybe this year I can have a Padres/Twins World Series and go watch the game at the &lt;a href="http://sandiego.padres.mlb.com/sd/ballpark/index.jsp"&gt;stupidest-named baseball park in the world.&lt;/a&gt; You do have to love a ballpark with a view of the ocean, though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whenever I watch a ballgame, I think of Mike's Grandma Sandi.  She was a baseball junkie, too.  But she took her addiction to extremes.  Three televisions in the living room, all tuned to a different game, plus the radio broadcast of one game (usually the Twins) in her ear.  I bet she doesn't have to settle for just three games at a time anymore.  ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-6543241707300221647?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/6543241707300221647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=6543241707300221647' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/6543241707300221647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/6543241707300221647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/03/23-days.html' title='23 Days!'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-1179110527579427258</id><published>2007-03-06T14:51:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-06T14:52:28.677-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Too Good to be True!</title><content type='html'>Aaron told me today that if I buy him a television for his bedroom he'll move out of my house.  I asked him where he was going to go live and he told me:  "A blue house that you don't live in." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I need to go buy a TV.  Or three......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-1179110527579427258?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/1179110527579427258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=1179110527579427258' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/1179110527579427258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/1179110527579427258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/03/too-good-to-be-true.html' title='Too Good to be True!'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-4511462432721388589</id><published>2007-03-05T13:37:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-05T13:50:39.258-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I had a dream.......</title><content type='html'>No, not &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; kind of dream.  I had a really &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;weird  &lt;/span&gt;dream.  Anyone who knows me knows this is nothing new.  I have always had strange dreams and that will probably never change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I had a dream that Mike and I were in bed watching Wonder Woman.  Where the hell Wonder Woman came into play I have no idea, although my sister used to have Wonder Woman &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Underoos"&gt;Underoos&lt;/a&gt; when she was little (sorry, Stace, I had to mention that!).  Anyway, I fell asleep whilst watching Wonder Woman but was rudely awakened later by this flashing light in my bedroom.  In my dream, I investigated and learned that someone had broken into my house and installed a strobe light in my bedroom.  Hm......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But THEN!  I was awake and telling Mike that I had a strange dream that someone had installed a strobe light in our room.  He laughed at me and I went back to sleep......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only to wake up and find him still awake, watching TV.  Turns out, I dreamt that I  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;dreamt &lt;/span&gt;someone installed a strobe light in my bedroom.  And the strobe light was (drum roll please...) the television, of course.  I have a history of dragging little slices of reality into my dreams (just ask Meircee about the time I dreamt that the FBI was on CNN saying they had found Elvis and I was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;positive&lt;/span&gt; that it was real).  But, to my knowledge, I've never before dreamed of dreaming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And why would I dream about Wonder Woman when we were watching Goodfellas when I fell asleep?!  Do I subconsciously think &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000582/"&gt;Joe Pesci&lt;/a&gt; resembles &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/gallery/mptv/1384/Mptv/1384/1640_0057.jpg.html?path=pgallery&amp;amp;path_key=Carter,%20Lynda"&gt;Lynda Carter&lt;/a&gt;?  Hmmmm.......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-4511462432721388589?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/4511462432721388589/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=4511462432721388589' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/4511462432721388589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/4511462432721388589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/03/i-had-dream.html' title='I had a dream.......'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-822583928469045028</id><published>2007-02-27T19:07:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-27T19:10:45.540-06:00</updated><title type='text'>True Blood!</title><content type='html'>HBO is doing a series based on &lt;a href="http://www.charlaineharris.com/index.html"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Charlaine&lt;/span&gt; Harris'&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Sookie&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Stackhouse&lt;/span&gt; series.  It's called &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0844441/combined"&gt;True Blood&lt;/a&gt; and it's scheduled to debut in the fall 2007 line-up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only time I've ever subscribed to HBO (or any other movie channel) is when we got them all free for the first three months after we got &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;DirecTV&lt;/span&gt;.  But I'll be signing up in time for this show!  The books are great-campy and funny, not too terribly serious.  I can't wait!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-822583928469045028?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/822583928469045028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=822583928469045028' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/822583928469045028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/822583928469045028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/02/true-blood.html' title='True Blood!'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-1639454803101785098</id><published>2007-02-26T11:05:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-26T11:05:43.300-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Overheard</title><content type='html'>Aaron, picking up about 20 pennies I had cleaned out of my purse:  Money!  Me and Micah are &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;stinkin&lt;/span&gt;' rich now!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-1639454803101785098?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/1639454803101785098/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=1639454803101785098' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/1639454803101785098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/1639454803101785098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/02/overheard_26.html' title='Overheard'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-6189842074731523822</id><published>2007-02-25T20:59:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-25T21:07:49.195-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Haven't done a meme in a while.......</title><content type='html'>1. What time do you get up in the morning?&lt;br /&gt;5:30&lt;br /&gt;2. Diamonds or Pearls?&lt;br /&gt;Diamonds&lt;br /&gt;3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema?&lt;br /&gt;Cars&lt;br /&gt;4. What is your favorite TV show?&lt;br /&gt;Anderson Cooper 360 and Larry King Live&lt;br /&gt;5. What do you normally have for breakfast?&lt;br /&gt;Coffee&lt;br /&gt;6. What is your middle name?&lt;br /&gt;Lynne&lt;br /&gt;7. What is your favorite cuisine?&lt;br /&gt;Sushi&lt;br /&gt;8. What food do you most dislike?&lt;br /&gt;Liver&lt;br /&gt;9. What is your favorite chip?&lt;br /&gt;Old Dutch Dill Pickle&lt;br /&gt;10. What is your favorite CD at the moment?&lt;br /&gt;I don't listen to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;CDs&lt;/span&gt; much.  Lately I'm loving Josh &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Ritter&lt;/span&gt; and David Gray.&lt;br /&gt;11. What kind of car do you drive?&lt;br /&gt;Chrysler Town and Country&lt;br /&gt;12. What is your favorite sandwich?&lt;br /&gt;Reuben&lt;br /&gt;13. Qualities I despise most in other people are…&lt;br /&gt;Hypocrisy&lt;br /&gt;14. What are your favorite clothes?&lt;br /&gt;pajamas&lt;br /&gt;15. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would it be?&lt;br /&gt;Paris.  Well, all of Europe, really&lt;br /&gt;16. What color are your eyes?&lt;br /&gt;Hazel&lt;br /&gt;17. What is your favorite brand of clothing?&lt;br /&gt;Don't have a favorite&lt;br /&gt;18. Where would you want to retire?&lt;br /&gt;San Diego or LA&lt;br /&gt;19. What is your favorite time of day?&lt;br /&gt;afternoon&lt;br /&gt;20. Where were you born?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Litchfield&lt;/span&gt;, MN&lt;br /&gt;21. What is your favorite sport to watch?&lt;br /&gt;Baseball&lt;br /&gt;22. Sock Sock, Shoe Shoe or Sock Shoe, Sock Shoe?&lt;br /&gt;sock sock, shoe shoe&lt;br /&gt;23. Cash, credit card or debit card?&lt;br /&gt;debit card.  Can't remember the last time I used a credit card.&lt;br /&gt;24. Pepsi or Coke?&lt;br /&gt;Pepsi&lt;br /&gt;25. Cats or Dogs?&lt;br /&gt;Dogs, definitely.&lt;br /&gt;26. Are you a morning person or a night owl?&lt;br /&gt;Night owl&lt;br /&gt;27. Pedicure or manicure?&lt;br /&gt;Manicure.&lt;br /&gt;28. Do you prefer funny or mushy cards?&lt;br /&gt;Funny&lt;br /&gt;29. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share with everyone?&lt;br /&gt;We're moving back to San Diego!&lt;br /&gt;30. What did you want to be when you were little?&lt;br /&gt;A teacher.&lt;br /&gt;31. What do you have in your trunk right now?&lt;br /&gt;I don't have a "trunk," but in the cargo area of my van is my handy-dandy roadside assistance bag that Mike bought me.  As if I'm *ever* going to change my own tire.  Ha!&lt;br /&gt;32. What is your best childhood memory?&lt;br /&gt;Going for rides with my mom and dad.&lt;br /&gt;33. What are some of the different jobs you have had in your life?&lt;br /&gt;Nursing assistant, bakery cashier (I also sliced bread and cleaned cases), grocery store cashier, news monitor, library clerk.&lt;br /&gt;34. What is your favorite Holiday?&lt;br /&gt;Christmas&lt;br /&gt;35. What is your favorite dessert?&lt;br /&gt;Brownies&lt;br /&gt;36. Where is your favorite get-away?&lt;br /&gt;My bedroom.&lt;br /&gt;37. Have you ever been to Africa?&lt;br /&gt;No.&lt;br /&gt;38. Glasses or Contacts?&lt;br /&gt;Glasses when I bother to wear them.&lt;br /&gt;39. Have you ever been toilet papering?&lt;br /&gt;Nope.&lt;br /&gt;40. Have you ever been in a car accident?&lt;br /&gt;Once, but I wasn't driving.&lt;br /&gt;41. What is your favorite day of the week?&lt;br /&gt;Monday.&lt;br /&gt;42. What is your favorite restaurant?&lt;br /&gt;Chile Peppers in San Diego.&lt;br /&gt;43. Favorite flower?&lt;br /&gt;home-grown roses and lilacs.&lt;br /&gt;44. Favorite movies?&lt;br /&gt;Lonesome Dove, Top Gun, the Godfather, Good Will Hunting.&lt;br /&gt;45. Favorite Past time?&lt;br /&gt;Reading&lt;br /&gt;46. Favorite ice cream?&lt;br /&gt;Ben &amp; Jerry's Peanut Butter Cup&lt;br /&gt;47. Favorite fast food restaurant?&lt;br /&gt;Burger King and In 'N Out Burger&lt;br /&gt;48. How many times did you fail your drivers test?&lt;br /&gt;Once&lt;br /&gt;49. From whom did you get your last email?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Meircee&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;50. Sandals or tennis shoes?&lt;br /&gt;Sandals&lt;br /&gt;51. Which store would you choose to max out your credit card?&lt;br /&gt;Barnes and Noble or Target&lt;br /&gt;52. If the speed limit is 60, what is the fastest you normally drive?&lt;br /&gt;70&lt;br /&gt;53. What is your bedtime?&lt;br /&gt;Usually in bed by 9:30 and asleep by 10:30, but sometimes earlier. &lt;br /&gt;54. Whose response to this are you most curious about?&lt;br /&gt;Don't know.....&lt;br /&gt;55. Last person you went to dinner with?&lt;br /&gt;Mike&lt;br /&gt;56. What are you listening to right now?&lt;br /&gt;The Oscars&lt;br /&gt;57. What is your favorite color?&lt;br /&gt;Purple&lt;br /&gt;58. How many tattoos do you have?&lt;br /&gt;None, but next time I go to Hawaii I'm getting a yellow &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;plumeria&lt;/span&gt; tattooed *somewhere.&lt;br /&gt;59. Smooth or crunch peanut butter?&lt;br /&gt;crunchy&lt;br /&gt;60. What is your favorite drink?&lt;br /&gt;coffee&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-6189842074731523822?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/6189842074731523822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=6189842074731523822' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/6189842074731523822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/6189842074731523822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/02/havent-done-meme-in-while.html' title='Haven&apos;t done a meme in a while.......'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-5384299828322793250</id><published>2007-02-24T19:36:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-24T19:43:06.239-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Why I Love Thrift Stores</title><content type='html'>Anyone who knows me knows I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;love&lt;/span&gt; shopping at thrift stores.  There was a great one on the Marine Corps base in San Diego I got so many nice things at.  The stuff there was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;extremely&lt;/span&gt; cheap (I'm talking yard sale prices), and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Meircee&lt;/span&gt; and I once walked out of there with &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;two&lt;/span&gt; plastic &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;trash bags&lt;/span&gt; full of stuff (we bought stuff for our kids, too!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My love for thrift stores remains and today was a banner day!  I got the entire &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Sookie&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Stackhouse&lt;/span&gt; series by &lt;a href="http://www.charlaineharris.com/index.html"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Charlaine&lt;/span&gt; Harris&lt;/a&gt;.  Only &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;one&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt; of these was not a signed copy.  I also got all but one of the Lily Bard series by the same author and both of the books in her Harper &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Connelly&lt;/span&gt; series (only one signed).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also snagged myself a cute little pair of &lt;a href="http://www.jimbenton.com/"&gt;It's Happy Bunny&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt; pajama bottoms&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;  But my favorite purchase of the day was a Kate Spade handbag.  I'd never be able to afford one of these new, but I can have a slightly used one for $10 from the Goodwill!  :O)  It was a little dirty, but it cleaned right up and it's gorgeous!  I'm in love.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-5384299828322793250?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/5384299828322793250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=5384299828322793250' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/5384299828322793250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/5384299828322793250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/02/why-i-love-thrift-stores.html' title='Why I Love Thrift Stores'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-5712439125089465409</id><published>2007-02-19T18:43:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-19T18:54:21.189-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Random Thoughts at the End of a Long Day</title><content type='html'>Finished a great book by a favorite writer today.  The Dead Place is the sixth in the Ben Cooper/Diane Fry series set in the Peak District in England.  This series is so incredibly good.  If you want the list of titles, check out the author's website &lt;a href="http://stephen-booth.com/"&gt;Stephen Booth&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The book made me curious enough to do some &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;web searching&lt;/span&gt; on &lt;a href="http://www.memorialecosystems.com/"&gt;green burials&lt;/a&gt;.  Needless to say, I'm intrigued.  Very interesting!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're spending part of our tax return on a new computer for the kids.  I'm thoroughly sick and tired of sharing mine with them.  The new computer will reside upstairs in the computer room, while my computer resides here in the living room.  Ah, peace and quiet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weather has finally warmed up here.  We actually hit 60 degrees today!  Woo &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;hoo&lt;/span&gt;!  To celebrate I grilled steaks for dinner.  Yum!  It's supposed to be nearly 70 tomorrow, but it's also going to rain. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At dinner, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Marissah&lt;/span&gt; reported that her brothers messed up her room after she cleaned it today.  The boys denied it, claiming "the aliens" did it.  As I pointed out to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Marissah&lt;/span&gt;, her brothers look enough like aliens for that to be possible.  They didn't deny &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow the big kids go back to school and I can regain some sanity and get my house clean.  Happy day!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-5712439125089465409?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/5712439125089465409/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=5712439125089465409' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/5712439125089465409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/5712439125089465409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/02/random-thoughts-at-end-of-long-day.html' title='Random Thoughts at the End of a Long Day'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-41813930168294513</id><published>2007-02-15T07:44:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-15T07:52:17.539-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Back to San Diego</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/RdRlg-XiEMI/AAAAAAAAAAk/8bX3X5E8tAk/s1600-h/sd.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/RdRlg-XiEMI/AAAAAAAAAAk/8bX3X5E8tAk/s200/sd.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5031758300851605698" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, as my little "Where Do You Belong?" link on the right says, I belong in San Diego.  Funny thing, when Mike did that quiz &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;he &lt;/span&gt;got San Diego, too.  So is it any wonder he's taken orders to a ship there?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The &lt;a href="http://www.makin-island.navy.mil/default.htm"&gt;USS &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Makin&lt;/span&gt; Island&lt;/a&gt; will be Mike's next ship.  It's not commissioned yet-still being finished in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Pascagoula&lt;/span&gt;, Mississippi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You all know how happy I am to be going back to San Diego.  I have missed it &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;so &lt;/span&gt;much.  No more rednecks, no more extreme heat, no more worthless schools for my poor kids.  I can't wait.  Still no real idea as to when we'll be leaving, but probably in December.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-41813930168294513?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/41813930168294513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=41813930168294513' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/41813930168294513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/41813930168294513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/02/back-to-san-diego.html' title='Back to San Diego'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/RdRlg-XiEMI/AAAAAAAAAAk/8bX3X5E8tAk/s72-c/sd.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-4668707612805724717</id><published>2007-02-14T20:21:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-14T20:31:09.049-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I smell goooood!</title><content type='html'>I just got out of the tub, and I smell fantastic thanks to &lt;a href="http://bathedandinfused.com/"&gt;Bathed and Infused&lt;/a&gt;.  If you've never heard of them, check 'em out.  Great smelling products for the bath (body wash, lotion, perfume) at great prices.  Who can resist a perfume called Bad Puppy (smells like green grass, dirt and iris petals-much better than it sounds) or &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Grapenuts&lt;/span&gt; (a blend of grapefruit and coconut)?  They have &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;hundreds &lt;/span&gt;of scents, including designer dupes (the big names like Britney Spears and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Prada&lt;/span&gt; and places like Bath and Body Works).  If you can imagine the scent, they have it.  Honest!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just received my second order since my dear sister got me hooked and I am still impressed.  I've loved every scent I've tried, so far.  If you're a little more worried there's a discussion forum where  users post reviews of the scents they've tried. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you email me I can refer you and you'll get 10% off your first order (and I'll get some points so I can continue to feed my new addiction).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-4668707612805724717?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/4668707612805724717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=4668707612805724717' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/4668707612805724717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/4668707612805724717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/02/i-smell-goooood.html' title='I smell goooood!'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-2012639593400050996</id><published>2007-02-09T08:54:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-08T20:33:45.826-06:00</updated><title type='text'>No Longer Anonymous</title><content type='html'>I've always been secretly proud of the fact that the staff of my local Starbucks doesn't know me.  See, if they don't recognize me when I come in, or have my order already started before I place it, that means I'm not the Starbucks equivalent of a crack ho.  Right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, that changed today.  Aaron and I were standing in line and the place was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;packed&lt;/span&gt;, plus the drive-thru line was eight cars long (which is why we went inside).  I was minding my own business, helping Aaron pick which cookie he wanted, when the barrista came by and said:  "Grande Peppermint Mocha, right?"  I was stunned, but not so stunned that I couldn't tell her to make it a venti instead (it's cold and sleeting outside). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that's it.  She may have had to ask for my name, but she knew my drink.  I'm no longer a nameless, faceless coffee drinker.  I'm a regular.  An addict.  A Starbucks ho.  I'm not ashamed, though.  I haven't yet started selling my body for a fix so it's all good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-2012639593400050996?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/2012639593400050996/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=2012639593400050996' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/2012639593400050996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/2012639593400050996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/02/no-longer-anonymous.html' title='No Longer Anonymous'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-7416779138893132516</id><published>2007-02-08T19:21:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-08T09:14:32.552-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Snip, snip!</title><content type='html'>Tomorrow Doc is going to the vet to be neutered.  Pray for me that this will cure him of his little humping addiction.  ;)  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Marissah's&lt;/span&gt; friend, who is an 11-year-old girl, tells me this will rob Doc of his dignity.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Bahahahahaha&lt;/span&gt;!  I don't know which is funnier, the thought of Doc &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;having&lt;/span&gt; any dignity (see humping addiction) or the sound of this little 11-year-old lecturing me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Anywho&lt;/span&gt;, when I told Aaron that Doc was going to the vet tomorrow he asked why.  I told him the vet was going to cut off Doc's testicles.  (Why yes, I am an evil, sick, deranged mother).  He asked what testicles were and I told him.  And then he said:  "I don't wanna go with you then."  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;LMAO&lt;/span&gt;!  This child &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;always&lt;/span&gt; wants to go  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;everywhere&lt;/span&gt; with me.  Guess not if it involves testicles and scalpels, though.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-7416779138893132516?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/7416779138893132516/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=7416779138893132516' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/7416779138893132516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/7416779138893132516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/02/snip-snip.html' title='Snip, snip!'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-4072731704148296545</id><published>2007-02-08T06:27:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-04T19:48:10.547-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I was sleeping blissfully this morning when I woke up.  I had heard something.  And there it was again.  My baby, screaming "Mom!  Mom!"  I jumped out of bed and ran into the boys' room.  Aaron was sitting up in bed.  I asked him what was wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Marissah&lt;/span&gt; is in our room!" he said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked around, doubtfully.  There was no one but Micah in the room with him and he was dead asleep. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Marissah's&lt;/span&gt;  not here, honey.  Go back to sleep," I told him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Will you get me some water?"  he whined.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got him some water.  When I brought it back to him he told me &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Marissah&lt;/span&gt; was in Micah's bed, under the covers.  This led me to remove all of the blankets (and there were several) covering Micah and showing Aaron that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Marissah&lt;/span&gt; was not, in fact, in his bed.  He seemed satisfied and went back to sleep.  I, on the other hand, was up for a good half hour after that, trying to get my heart to beat normally again.  Nothing like being woke from a dead sleep by your child screaming to get the blood flowing, huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still trying to figure out why on earth he thought &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Marissah&lt;/span&gt; was in their bedroom, much less in Micah's bed.  And why would that be so earth-shattering as to wake me at 3:30 a.m.?  Did I mention that I was the only one who woke up when he screamed?  Everyone else continued to sleep like the dead, including Micah, who was a whole three feet from Aaron. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And as further punishment, Aaron is wide awake as I write this.....at 6:35 a.m.  It's going to be a long day.......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-4072731704148296545?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/4072731704148296545/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=4072731704148296545' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/4072731704148296545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/4072731704148296545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/02/i-was-sleeping-blissfully-this-morning.html' title=''/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-8386267636502277796</id><published>2007-02-04T09:25:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-04T09:26:57.833-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Overheard......</title><content type='html'>Aaron, standing on the couch:  Micah!  I'm the king of the world!  (loses his balance and sits down, hard)  Well, I'm almost the king of the world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-8386267636502277796?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/8386267636502277796/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=8386267636502277796' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/8386267636502277796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/8386267636502277796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/02/overheard.html' title='Overheard......'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-1713245718657013590</id><published>2007-02-01T13:24:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-01T13:40:21.533-06:00</updated><title type='text'>January Book Review</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/RcI-gP0R3iI/AAAAAAAAAAY/o03Kr9e3W-0/s1600-h/cotterill.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/RcI-gP0R3iI/AAAAAAAAAAY/o03Kr9e3W-0/s200/cotterill.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5026648857821437474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Disco for the Departed&lt;br /&gt;by Colin &lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Cotterill&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;©2006  247 p.&lt;br /&gt;Soho Press&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dr. &lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Siri&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Paiboun&lt;/span&gt; is the reluctant national coroner for the People's Democratic Republic of Laos.  Set in 1977, while the country is still acclimating itself to the new communist government, Dr. &lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Siri&lt;/span&gt; and his morgue employees attempt to solve the mysteries that come their way.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Disco for the Departed&lt;/span&gt; is the third book in this wonderful series.  Dr. &lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Siri&lt;/span&gt; and Nurse &lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Dtui&lt;/span&gt; are summoned to the province of &lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Huaphan&lt;/span&gt; to investigate a body found buried under concrete.  Meanwhile, Mr. &lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Geung&lt;/span&gt;, the morgue attendant, has an adventure of his own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Disco &lt;/span&gt;is witty and sly, with a nice dose of mysticism to tantalize and entertain.  The characters are wonderfully drawn and readers get a real sense of Laos.  Fans of slightly out of the ordinary mysteries should not miss this series, which includes &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Coroner's Lunch&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Thirty Three Teeth.   &lt;/span&gt;As always, I recommend reading the series in order.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-1713245718657013590?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/1713245718657013590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=1713245718657013590' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/1713245718657013590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/1713245718657013590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/02/january-book-review.html' title='January Book Review'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/RcI-gP0R3iI/AAAAAAAAAAY/o03Kr9e3W-0/s72-c/cotterill.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-778221172673907628</id><published>2007-01-31T09:42:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-31T09:48:47.337-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My weird dog</title><content type='html'>OK, it's official.   My puppy, Doc, is weird.  A couple weeks ago, Doc was just acting strange toward me.  He was growling at me and backing away whenever he got close to me.  I called for Mike and he thought I had something on my hands that Doc didn't like the smell of, so I washed them.  No improvement-he was still growling and backing away like he was terrified.  The only thing I could think of was my sweater.  It was new, never worn before.  I hadn't washed it because it's cashmere.  I took it off and Doc still growled at my arms, but nothing like what he did when Mike held the sweater for Doc to smell.  He was scared of my sweater.  I'm thinking he can smell those goats or something and he (obviously) doesn't like it.  LOL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I  put on an angora blend sweater because it's freezing here.  Well, reverse the reaction to the cashmere sweater.  I thought the puppy was going to eat me right along with my sweater.  He was just nuts over it!  So, for future reference:  goats=bad, rabbits=good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-778221172673907628?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/778221172673907628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=778221172673907628' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/778221172673907628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/778221172673907628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/01/my-weird-dog.html' title='My weird dog'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-1147858529669627139</id><published>2007-01-26T08:27:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-26T08:39:03.803-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Winter Weather Whine</title><content type='html'>Micah finished his science fair project last night (which snack is more nutritious-&lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;PopTarts&lt;/span&gt;, granola bars or popcorn) and had to take it to school this morning.  Instead of making him lug the big half-moving box I decided I'd drive him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went out to start the car about 15 minutes before we had to leave and when we got out there the windows &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;still  &lt;/span&gt;weren't clear.  &lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ACK&lt;/span&gt;!  For the first time in six years (since we lived in Great Lakes), I had to scrape my windows.  Do I even &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;own&lt;/span&gt; a scraper???  &lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Nooooooo&lt;/span&gt;, of course not!  I remember scraping my windshield with my driver's license back in the days when I was young and too dumb to think I needed a scraper.  It somehow didn't seem right to desecrate my California drivers license with frost, though, so an old, used up Starbucks card had to suffice.  I certainly wasn't going to risk my debit card or either of my library cards, was I??????  Besides, I'm sure Starbucks has new designs on their cards for Valentine's Day, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boys were mesmerized by the frost everywhere.  Micah is sure this means it's going to snow today (hate to disappoint him, but only COLD is in the forecast) and Aaron mistakenly thought I said "frosting," which I guess is pretty appropriate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After we dropped Micah off, there was only one thing to do.  It was time for a Starbucks run.  After all, I was cold and I needed to replace that card.  Right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not safely ensconced in my nice warm house (well, relatively speaking) with a &lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;grande&lt;/span&gt; Peppermint Mocha and the half of Aaron's cranberry orange muffin he didn't eat and a brand &lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;spankin&lt;/span&gt;' new Starbucks card with a Valentine's motif.  Life is good, but it would be better if it wasn't so damn cold!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-1147858529669627139?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/1147858529669627139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=1147858529669627139' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/1147858529669627139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/1147858529669627139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/01/winter-weather-whine.html' title='Winter Weather Whine'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-8075308576370801515</id><published>2007-01-23T20:28:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-23T20:31:08.162-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Help Me Out!</title><content type='html'>Mike and I (okay, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; mostly) want to take a vacation in April.  No kids, nothing too terribly touristy.  Mostly, I want to sit on a beach somewhere and vegetate.  I suggested Florida's Gulf Coast.  Mike has no desire to go there.  But then he says he doesn't care where we go.  So, anyone have any suggestions?  (Thanks for suggesting Sacramento, &lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Meircee&lt;/span&gt;, but you have no beach!!!!  Love you!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-8075308576370801515?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/8075308576370801515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=8075308576370801515' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/8075308576370801515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/8075308576370801515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/01/help-me-out.html' title='Help Me Out!'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-8802660657752668248</id><published>2007-01-23T09:59:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-23T10:09:35.353-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm sad.....</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I learned that one of my favorite authors passed away.  This wasn't just any old author to me-this was &lt;a href="http://www.barbaraseranella.com/"&gt;Barbara &lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Seranella&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, author of the Munch Mancini mysteries.  I knew Barbara from an online mystery group I participate in and I can tell you that she was a wonderful, genuine human being.  I never got to meet her in person, but I will miss her anyway. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Barbara's books feature Miranda "Munch" Mancini, a mechanic who is also a recovering drug addict.  In the beginning of the first book in the series, Munch is trying to start over-off the booze and drugs and away from her wild life-when her father is murdered and she is considered a prime suspect.  Barbara's writing got better as she went-and it was excellent from the beginning.  Do me a favor and look for at least one of them.  You won't regret it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-8802660657752668248?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/8802660657752668248/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=8802660657752668248' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/8802660657752668248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/8802660657752668248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/01/im-sad.html' title='I&apos;m sad.....'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-3615509492487530842</id><published>2007-01-18T08:55:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-18T08:58:43.971-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Sickies-Part Deux</title><content type='html'>Today is the first day I haven't had everyone home sick since the weekend.  Do I have to tell you I was losing my ever-&lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;lovin&lt;/span&gt;' mind???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Micah is still home.  He finally isn't running a temp, but he's still exhausted.  He slept over 13 hours last night-and that's the fifth night in a row for that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And me?  I still haven't gotten sick.  I felt crappy on Tuesday, but it never amounted to anything.  Must be my exceptional physical condition and the attention I pay to my all-around well-being.  &lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Bahahahahahahahahahahahah&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-3615509492487530842?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/3615509492487530842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=3615509492487530842' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/3615509492487530842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/3615509492487530842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/01/sickies-part-deux.html' title='Sickies-Part Deux'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-8949431214604504429</id><published>2007-01-14T20:07:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-14T20:12:39.709-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Sickies</title><content type='html'>I've got two sick kids this weekend.  Micah started complaining of a cough on Thursday, but it really hit him hard on Friday night.  I gave him some Children's Tylenol Flu and he puked it right back up.  Nice.  Saturday morning I got up to find him sleeping on the couch at 9 am.  Remember, this is the child who has to be &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;medicated&lt;/span&gt; to sleep at night.  Oh yeah, he's sick. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Micah took some Tylenol (but not the &lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;pukey&lt;/span&gt; stuff) and felt better shortly after.  But by 4 pm Aaron was down and out.  He napped on the couch for about 3 hours and when he woke up I tried to convince him to take some medicine.  He wasn't biting, though.  Aaron puked, no medication involved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today has been a battle.  Aaron still won't take anything, so he's just staying on the couch and whimpering every once in a while.  Micah feels better, but still has a fever.  Mike has this crap, too, but I don't have to take care of him, thank God!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far, &lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Marissah&lt;/span&gt; and I have been lucky, but you &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;know&lt;/span&gt; what's going to happen.  Everyone is going to get well and then &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Mom&lt;/span&gt; will get sick.  And who is going to take care of Mom??????  &lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Hahahahahahahaha&lt;/span&gt;.......that's right!  NO ONE!!!!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lucky me.  Being a mom is highly over-rated.......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-8949431214604504429?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/8949431214604504429/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=8949431214604504429' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/8949431214604504429'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/8949431214604504429'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/01/sickies.html' title='Sickies'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-7253600548392486406</id><published>2007-01-08T18:41:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-08T19:05:38.869-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Justifiable Homicide</title><content type='html'>I'm contemplating homicide tonight.  Or maybe just assault.  Whatever it is, you can be sure it will be felonious and it will hurt.  A lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I left the house at 3:30 this afternoon to pick up a few things from &lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Wal&lt;/span&gt;-Mart.  &lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Marissah&lt;/span&gt; came with me because she needed some stuff for a school project.  I should preface all of this by saying I am extremely tired today.  I haven't slept well in a few days and it's catching up with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On our way to &lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Wal&lt;/span&gt;-Mart &lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Marissah&lt;/span&gt; explained to me that she can't just bring two things on her list to school, because then she'll only get two extra points.  You see, they are making an edible cell model and the teacher gave them a list of supplies she needs.  I told &lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Marissah&lt;/span&gt; I was sure she didn't need ALL of that stuff, but she insisted she did.  And those extra points are why.  For each item on the list that the kids bring in they get an extra point on their grade.  15 items total on the list and you get 15 extra points.  That's a HUGE difference when it comes to a project or test.  My beef is that I'm essentially *buying* her grade.  There is NO WAY the teacher needs all 24 kids to bring a package of paper plates.  Or a pack of Dixie cups.  Or a freaking package of gumballs.  Gimme a freaking break.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got all our stuff at &lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Wal&lt;/span&gt;-Mart and went to check out.  I went to swipe my debit card only to find it wasn't there.  In fact, my entire wallet seemed to be missing.  #%(*#Q&amp;%*(#Q)*^$  And that is &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;exactly&lt;/span&gt; what I said!  The cashier at &lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Wal&lt;/span&gt;-Mart was kind enough to say she'd hold my stuff, but I was pretty sure she wouldn't.  This is &lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Wal&lt;/span&gt;-Mart.  In Tennessee.  Need I say more?  Besides, I had bigger things to worry about.  Namely how I was going to get onto the secured base without my military ID.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know any of the sentries on base, but there are some who are more friendly than others.  You &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;know &lt;/span&gt;I didn't get one of the friendly ones, right?  Oh no, never happen.  I got this runty little guy who apparently thought I was scamming  him.  I explained my predicament and he asked all kinds of questions (including where my husband works and if I have stickers on my van---as if he couldn't &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;see&lt;/span&gt; the stickers right in front of his beady little eyes).  Finally he told me to wait a minute, but not before he asked to see my driver's license (it's in the wallet with my freaking ID you moron!).  I thought he was going to get something or someone to sign me in, but he just went to wave a car from the adjacent parking lot through.  Then he came back to my side of the road and waved me through.  As I was driving past I said "Thank you!" and he yelled for me to stop.  I kid you not, he said:  "Whoa, where are you going in such a hurry?"  I was just about ready to strangle him, but I kept my cool.  He finally let me go, but gave me a lecture about how important it is to keep my information on me.  @@  &lt;-eye roll.  When I finally got back to &lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Wal&lt;/span&gt;-Mart I was just tickled to see that not only had my cashier kept my stuff out, but she had just suspended the transaction so it was super-fast.  I've never received such good service in &lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Wal&lt;/span&gt;-Mart before-in Tennessee or elsewhere-and I made sure she knew that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I had just one last obstacle.  I had to pass the Moronic Sentry before I could get home.  I seriously considered going all the way around to the other gate, but it was already 5:00 and I had no desire to prolong this excursion any more than I already had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the time we hit the gate I already had my ID out of my wallet and my window down.  I was hoping I could just slide on through, but of course he remembered me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well," he said.  "I see you found it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Actually, it was never lost,"  I told him.  "I just &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;forgot&lt;/span&gt; it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Aw, you were just &lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;playin&lt;/span&gt;' tricks on me, weren't you?"  he said in a smarmy voice.  I swear, he was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;flirting  &lt;/span&gt;with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't stick around for anything else.  He could have called Shore Patrol on me and I wouldn't have cared.  Talk about an asshole.  Did I mention how short he was?  Napoleon complex, for sure.  Short people should never be given power positions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm glad I made his day, glad he got a laugh and some entertainment at my expense.  I'll be thinking of him tonight when it drops down below thirty degrees and he's still standing outside at that gate.  And I'll be laughing, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can guarantee you that is one sentry I'll never forget and he'll never get so much as a "have a nice day" from me again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-7253600548392486406?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/7253600548392486406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=7253600548392486406' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/7253600548392486406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/7253600548392486406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/01/justifiable-homicide.html' title='Justifiable Homicide'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-5308966988255246237</id><published>2007-01-06T16:28:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-06T16:46:21.230-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Call Him "Striking Catfish"</title><content type='html'>Mike has been researching his genealogy since &lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Marissah&lt;/span&gt; was a baby.  We got this little family tree from the hospital where she was born and it got both of us more curious about our ancestors.  He's made contact with many different relatives and traced his grandmother's family line (&lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Paulson&lt;/span&gt;) back quite far (the 1600s or so).  Last night he stumbled on some really cool connections.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To make a long story short, he was able to connect his grandmother's line to all kinds of royalty.  If that's not cool enough, this line, being that it's royal and they tended to inter-marry, ties into other royal lines.  He's descended from (among others) Marcus Aurelius, Constantine and King Herod.  Cleopatra is part of his line, but he's not directly descended from her, along with Alexander the Great.  Mike's line goes to Alexander the &lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Great's&lt;/span&gt; lesser known brother (I am not joking here) The Rabbit.  I forget his first name, but it's one of those impossible to pronounce Greek-sounding names. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then, just to put the icing on the cake, his line ties into the ancient Egyptian line.  So my husband is descended from the ancient Egyptian rulers, the first was named......"Striking Catfish."  Less well known that King Tut, for sure, but isn't it much more fun to call Mike "&lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Striking&lt;/span&gt; Catfish"?  I know I'm enjoying it.  OK, Mike claims "Striking Catfish" was the wife's name and the husband was The Scorpion King.  I'm sticking with &lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Striking&lt;/span&gt; Catfish.  ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To sum things up, we now know my husband, and in turn my kids, are Swedish, German, Norwegian, Danish, Bohemian (&lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;hahahaha&lt;/span&gt;), and Austrian.  Then we can add the places that no longer exist like Macedonia, Persia, and ancient Egypt.  Plus a lot of Jews from Judea.  Oh my......talk about a mutt.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-5308966988255246237?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/5308966988255246237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=5308966988255246237' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/5308966988255246237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/5308966988255246237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/01/just-call-him-striking-catfish.html' title='Just Call Him &quot;Striking Catfish&quot;'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-1693204247514364640</id><published>2007-01-01T11:04:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-01T11:04:32.605-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy New Year!</title><content type='html'>Hope you all have a safe, prosperous, happy new year!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-1693204247514364640?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/1693204247514364640/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=1693204247514364640' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/1693204247514364640'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/1693204247514364640'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2007/01/happy-new-year.html' title='Happy New Year!'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-6806215073121334142</id><published>2006-12-24T11:22:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-12-24T11:24:12.129-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Merry Christmas to All!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/RY63fhTfjcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/TxdHEPnqO-o/s1600-h/DCP_3279.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/RY63fhTfjcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/TxdHEPnqO-o/s320/DCP_3279.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5012145187453898178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, that's the winning holiday photo.  Notice the lovely date stamp.  Oh well. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope everyone has a very merry Christmas and that Santa brings you every single item on your lists!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;the &lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Bengtsons&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-6806215073121334142?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/6806215073121334142/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=6806215073121334142' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/6806215073121334142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/6806215073121334142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2006/12/merry-christmas-to-all.html' title='Merry Christmas to All!'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_su_mk68RXEQ/RY63fhTfjcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/TxdHEPnqO-o/s72-c/DCP_3279.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-6557155754370528899</id><published>2006-12-19T18:27:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-12-19T18:30:38.636-06:00</updated><title type='text'>This and That</title><content type='html'>Well, Micah placed third in his spelling bee!  I was so proud of him!  They had a lot of trouble with the microphone and he didn't hear his word correctly.  He spelled "method" as "nethod."  LOL  He wasn't disappointed, though-the two kids that placed ahead of him were both fifth graders.  He did so well!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kids are done with school now until January 3.  Not sure how we're all going to survive that.  Nana is coming on Saturday and I mailed all my packages and cards today (I'm late!).  Now I just have to wrap.  And wrap and wrap some more.  Ugh.  I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;loathe&lt;/span&gt; wrapping presents.  One reason is because I suck at it.  *sigh*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-6557155754370528899?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/6557155754370528899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=6557155754370528899' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/6557155754370528899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/6557155754370528899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2006/12/this-and-that.html' title='This and That'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-116611495452469305</id><published>2006-12-14T10:47:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-12-14T10:49:14.550-06:00</updated><title type='text'>This is SO wrong!</title><content type='html'>Ya'll know how I feel about Mustangs.  Imagine the shock and disbelief I felt when reading this.  And no, I will not be getting one.  &lt;a href="http://www.cnn.com/2006/AUTOS/12/14/mustang_wagons/index.html"&gt;Mustang Wagons?&lt;/a&gt;   I'm going to cry.......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-116611495452469305?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/116611495452469305/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=116611495452469305' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/116611495452469305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/116611495452469305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2006/12/this-is-so-wrong.html' title='This is SO wrong!'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-116610327230870095</id><published>2006-12-14T07:30:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-12-14T07:34:41.126-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Spelling Bee</title><content type='html'>This morning I learned that Micah is going to be in the school Spelling Bee tomorrow.  Who knows how long he's known about this.  I only found out because I asked him why he had a 5th grade spelling book in his backpack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Turns out he won the classroom Spelling Bee ("I was the person who lasted the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;longest &lt;/span&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;Mom.  Everyone else got out before me.").  The winner of each class moves on to the school Spelling Bee.  He's not sure what time it starts tomorrow, but he &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;thinks&lt;/span&gt; it's 1:10.  Or maybe 1:20.  Or 1:00 (guess who is calling the school today to make sure?).  My little speller......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-116610327230870095?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/116610327230870095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=116610327230870095' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/116610327230870095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/116610327230870095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2006/12/spelling-bee.html' title='Spelling Bee'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-116597337130653580</id><published>2006-12-12T19:10:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-12-12T19:30:53.796-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Holiday Photos</title><content type='html'>When I was pregnant with Aaron and having anxiety attacks over how I was going to parent &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;three &lt;/span&gt;kids, my friend Dawn gave me a tip.  She told me that the hardest part of having three kids was taking pictures.  Naturally, I scoffed at her.  That's what clueless people do, you know.  And then I had three kids and tried to take pictures of all three of them and it was hell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I skipped family Christmas photos last year.  I just could not bring myself to go through the torture.  So I knew this year I was going to have to bite the bullet and take them, lest friends and family think I'm hiding my children from them or something.  On Saturday I made all the kids dress in red and I broke out the adorable little Santa hats I bought for the dogs.  Kids and dogs gathered around the tree and I took up the camera.  And that's where my whole plan fell apart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doc, the puppy, was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; going to wear the hat.  No freaking way.  I swear, if he could talk he would have said something along the lines of "Are you out of you ever-lovin' mind, woman?"  Okay, no hats on the dogs.  Gracie was willing to wear hers (or too stupid to realize it was on her head), but it would look ridiculous with just one dog wearing a hat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that we've removed the hats, Gracie has decided she's not up to having her picture taken.  Maybe it was a bad hair day.  I don't know, but whenever we tried to get her to sit for a picture she immediately walked away.  Okay, scratch the dogs.  Kids only in the picture.  This will work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got everyone posed just so and snapped a quick picture.  Checked it out in the viewing screen and realized I had left the digital date on it.  ARGH!!!!!  I reset the camera so the date would not show up on what I was still convinced were going to be my perfect family photo Christmas cards and we were ready to go again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Except we weren't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After 10 minutes of cajoling, I couldn't get them to sit still.  I thought maybe if they sat on the couch they'd do better.  I was wrong.  This is the picture I managed to snap just after I told them they were going to be grounded from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;everything&lt;/span&gt; if they didn't sit  nice and smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3938/2055/1600/605549/DCP_3282.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3938/2055/200/15044/DCP_3282.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marissah loves her cheesy smiles and Micah and Aaron can't sit next to each other without messing around.  The proof is right here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3938/2055/1600/800828/DCP_3283.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3938/2055/200/812129/DCP_3283.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;of course,  &lt;/span&gt;Doc changes his mind and decides he should be in the picture.  On the couch.  Did I  mention it's not even six months old yet and I  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;really  &lt;/span&gt;don't like animals on the furniture.  Well, I decided to bend my rule for the sake of the Ultimate Christmas Photo.  (Who the hell am I kidding?!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3938/2055/1600/236516/DCP_3287.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3938/2055/200/44923/DCP_3287.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One more picture and I'm ready to hang it up.  Get the damn dog on your lap, look and me and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;smile pretty&lt;/span&gt;.  I think I may have threatened to pull ears, but I may have just wished that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3938/2055/1600/706196/DCP_3288.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3938/2055/200/541543/DCP_3288.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What the hell.  Enough.  I'm sending out the picture with the date stamp on it.  Do you know what pisses me off the most?  I spent 45 minutes taking these pictures and I end up using the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;very first one I took.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dawn, if you're reading this, I'm sorry I ever doubted you.  I stand humbled before you.  I can't do this again.  Next year it's JC Penney portrait studio or &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;nothing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-116597337130653580?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/116597337130653580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=116597337130653580' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/116597337130653580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/116597337130653580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2006/12/holiday-photos.html' title='Holiday Photos'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20501287.post-116551749744093202</id><published>2006-12-07T12:37:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-12-11T08:04:02.436-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas Mushrooms?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3938/2055/1600/639451/mushroom.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3938/2055/200/796910/mushroom.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bought some more ornaments for our Christmas tree today at Wal-Mart.  It was looking a little sad with our special ornaments and a mere five red balls.  I bought a big package of shatter-proof ornaments, because, well, I live in Heathenville.  Anyhoo, Aaron and I were putting some on the tree and what do I see???  Why, Christmas mushrooms!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who the heck puts &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;mushrooms&lt;/span&gt; on their Christmas tree?!  Is this something I don't know about?  I know some people put a pickle ornament on their trees, but I've never heard of mushrooms.  There were &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;four&lt;/span&gt; of these in the package I bought.  The rest of the ornaments were normal-stars, pinecones, twirly things, bells, etc.  And four mushrooms.  Maybe the ornament makers in China were just bored and thought &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Hey, I know!  Let's give those crazy Americans something to think about.  Let's make them some mushroom ornaments!"    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to say, those mushrooms are &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; going on my tree.  I feel about it the same way as I feel about those ugly Croc shoes.  Just because everyone's wearing them doesn't mean they're cute.  I threw the mushrooms away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, I should have done a Google search earlier.  Turns out I was on the right track: &lt;a href="http://www.bronners.com/tradofmus.html"&gt;Mushroom Tradition.&lt;/a&gt;  I'm still not putting them on my tree.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20501287-116551749744093202?l=heathenville.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/feeds/116551749744093202/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20501287&amp;postID=116551749744093202' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/116551749744093202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20501287/posts/default/116551749744093202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathenville.blogspot.com/2006/12/christmas-mushrooms.html' title='Christmas Mushrooms?'/><author><name>Erica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09743197359572018962</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
