<?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-1288850027727717951</id><updated>2011-11-27T19:42:37.642-06:00</updated><category term='crafts'/><title type='text'>:)Christina</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>105</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-1054443767562771421</id><published>2010-11-30T23:01:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-30T23:19:32.343-06:00</updated><title type='text'>hi</title><content type='html'>Dear You,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:)Christina&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Hows that for an ice breaker?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is good.&lt;br /&gt;E-M is still just as perfect as the day she was born.&lt;br /&gt;The Girls are just as silly, wild and unstoppable as ever.&lt;br /&gt;J is just as handsome as the night we had our first kiss on the steps of my Hidden Lakes apartment.&lt;br /&gt;Life is good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BUT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christmas is coming. So is The Funk. The Humbugs. The Jolly Resistance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll press through. With a smile. And be thankful. Because...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-1054443767562771421?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/1054443767562771421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=1054443767562771421' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/1054443767562771421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/1054443767562771421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2010/11/hi.html' title='hi'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-3470109617886926894</id><published>2010-08-06T10:30:00.023-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-01T17:23:15.569-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Joy comes in the afternoon...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;John and I are BIG TIME planners. We both like to plan ahead for events and activities, and almost everything we do begins with a checklist. Neither of us like to feel unprepared, and we don't like being caught off guard. However, we are also Realists (well, John's more the Realist and I'm more the Pessimist). We know things almost never go as planned. Therefore, when we lay out a plan for something, we usually devise a plan B. And C. And D. And E. And, sometimes we make up sub-plans for those&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are also Christians. We believe God has a plan and purpose for our life. Which means, sometimes our plans, preferences, and time lines are thrown out the window. We're ok with that because we know He will guide us through whatever journey, adventure or adversity we face along the way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*******&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;In February 2004, we decided to start trying for a family. We anticipated and prepared for it to take six months to a year to get pregnant. Two months later, six weeks before I graduated college and began my first post-degree full-time job, I was pregnant with S-O.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;In April 2007, we decided S-O needed a sibling. Four weeks later, after ONE real attempt at 'trying', BAM! Rae was born nine months later.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Given our track record, when we decided to start trying for #3 last June, we assumed we'd be pregnant in one or two months. God had other plans.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*******&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Sunday, July 4th&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;1a.m. WOZERS! A really strong contraction woke me from a solid sleep. I changed positions and tried to go back to sleep. About thirty minutes later, another one woke me up. I decided to get out of bed and walk around to see if they would go away. They didn't. They were about 30 minutes apart and uncomfortable enough to keep me awake. I was exhausted, so around 4a.m. I finally fell back to sleep.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;We went to church that morning and by noon the contractions were becoming more steady at about 10-15minutes apart. We called our friend Candi to stay with The Girls while we went on to the hospital to have me checked.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Here's a pic I took on the way out the door:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511957491051469346" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/TH5oIm8tGiI/AAAAAAAAAJE/4VXMcSCS4cc/s320/Belly.jpg" /&gt;TOLD YOU I was HUGE!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They checked me and I WAS STILL ONLY 3cm!!! (I'd been 3cm for about two weeks.) Lovely. Since I had planned a natural birth, sans pain meds or labor augmenting drugs like Pitocin, they gave me the option to go home. I did. I would much rather labor in the comforts of my home than in the hospital. The plan would be to go back to the hospital when my contractions were 5min apart for an hour or so intense that I couldn't talk/walk through them. Ok, fine. Good plan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We picked up The Girls and came home to freshen up before evening church services. Although I was contracting, they were manageable, and, like before, I wanted to get out of the house so I wouldn't obsess over timing them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The minute we walked into the church building the contractions became closer together. Like 6-8min apart closer. I kept track of them with my phone. I know the family sitting behind us thought I was texting all throughout church. Hahahaha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I toughed it out until after service, but we, well John, decided we should go on home instead of staying for the fellowship meal. SNAP! I drooled over the HUGE tubs of homemade ice cream set out on the serving tables as we walked out the back door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went ahead and called my inlaws in KY and asked them to begin the 4hr trip because even if Baby Girl wasn't born tonight, I KNEW it would be within the next day or so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I laid down and the contractions tapered to every 30min. I went to bed at 9pm and slept until about 1a.m.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*******&lt;br /&gt;Monday, July 5th&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;1 a.m.-5 a.m I couldn't sleep. The contractions ranged from 10-30 minutes apart. Some of them pretty intense. My mind wondered into a million different places. I ate a snack. Powdered Donuts and Cheetos. I got on the computer and wrote &lt;a href="http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2010/07/and-then-i-punched-him-in-face.html"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366cc;"&gt;this&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;. I tried to go back to sleep.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6a.m.-11a.m. Contractions were 8-15 minutes apart. I did laundry, watered my plants, double checked my hospital bag check list, walked around the house, helped the girls get dressed, hung out with the inlaws, and pretty much labored at home, like planned. It wasn't too bad. Every now and then I had to stop what I was doing to concentrate through the contractions, but the pain was manageable. John was very attentive and kept asking if I needed him to do anything. Occasionally, I needed counter pressure on my lower back, but other than that, it was business as usual around the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;11:30 a.m. I had a phone conversation with my sister-in-law. We laughed and chatted about labor and contractions. She suggested we go for a walk at the mall. I thought it was a good idea and said we may do that. We were talking about the weather when IT hit me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A very. strong. take-my-breath-away. contraction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I handed the phone to John mid-sentence and he told her we'd call her back later. I had to REALLY concentrate through that one&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11:45a.m.- I told John that we'd probably need to head to the hospital in the next hour or so since my contractions were getting stronger and closer together, 7-10 minutes apart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11:57a.m.- I told John we needed to leave for the hospital, RIGHT NOW!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*******&lt;br /&gt;It took them about 30 minutes to check us in and usher us to a birthing room. My nurse, Nurse Sarah, checked me to see if this was the real deal. It was! I was dilated 6cm!!! Woo Hoo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday's false alarm really disappointed us.&lt;br /&gt;But not today. THIS was the real deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Nurse Short-Hair (sorry, I forgot her name) moved the wireless monitor (two discs strapped to my belly meant to read E-M's heartbeat while giving me freedom of movement without wires or cords), she asked, "So, why did you choose to go with natural childbirth?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I held my breath and starred at the screen. Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"There she is!" she exclaimed, as she found her mark and I found my peace. "I just like to ask because I'm curious. That, and I wished I had tried to go natural with at least one of my boys, but things don't always go as planned."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It was mostly a personal decision," I said as I looked at John. He winked and gave my left hand a squeeze.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things don't always go as planned. But sometimes, they do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*******&lt;br /&gt;2 p.m. After the initial 'setup' was complete and the 1000 questions were answered and entered into the computer, Nurse Sarah left us alone, to labor in peace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AhhhhhhhhhhhhOooooo.&lt;br /&gt;AhhhhhhhhhhhhOooooo.&lt;br /&gt;AhhhhhhhhhhhhOooooo.&lt;br /&gt;That was my mantra for most of my labor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No screaming. No yelling. Just calm breathing and meditating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walked. I stretched my legs. I leaned against a chair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John was my rock.&lt;br /&gt;He rubbed my back. He rubbed my legs. He told me I was beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;He looked me square in the eyes and told me he loved me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those moments were some of the most intimate, special, moments of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*******&lt;br /&gt;3 p.m. John and I worked through the contractions. They hurt. But, I realized if I tensed up they were worse. Ironically, the only time I felt relief from the pain was when I sat, completely limp and relaxed, on the toilet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nurse Sarah was SUPER nice. She worked really hard to make sure she and the hospital complied with everything on my birth plan. She didn't flinch when I requested a HEP lock IV port, rather than the standard IV drip. She didn't look at me cross when I said I wanted to wear my own clothes rather than a yucky tie-back hospital gown. Those things really helped make labor more comfortable. As comfortable as labor can be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The contractions were becoming more intense and I felt lots of pressure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nurse Sarah checked me and I was dilated to 8cm. I went back to my 'comfy spot' on the toilet and I heard John greet the on call doc (mine was on vacation in Atlanta). She said I'd probably be pushing soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*******&lt;br /&gt;Throughout this pregnancy, I have felt tremendous gratitude to God for giving me another chance at creating life. Even during the bouts of asthma, pre-term labor contractions, and hugeness that was my belly, I never stopped feeling grateful. I never stopped praising Him for every day I had with her in my womb. Every kick. Every stretch mark. Ok maybe not the stretch marks, but you get the picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life doesn't always go as WE plan. Sometimes HIS plan takes us on a journey we never expected. Sometimes while on that journey we learn things about ourselves, about life, that we otherwise wouldn't have learned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WE wanted to be pregnant last July. WE wanted the chemical pregnancy last August to be real. WE wanted the baby we conceived last September to stick and grow into a beautiful, living, breathing, child that would one day run and play with it's sisters. WE wanted those things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since &lt;a href="http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/09/glory-baby.html"&gt;then&lt;/a&gt;, we have leaned on the faith that His plan is perfect, and beautiful, and designed to glorify Him. Not us. Not our plans&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't until I gave up on being in control that divine providence took over. And then, great, GREAT things began to happen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*******&lt;br /&gt;aprox. 3:15 p.m&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never once looked at the clock. Time stood still.&lt;br /&gt;I never doubted my body's ability to do what it was designed to do.&lt;br /&gt;I never let my mind think about the 'what if's'.&lt;br /&gt;But I did cry. I cried because I was ready for her to be here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With closed eyes, I dug deep into the depths of my soul for the faith that everything would be ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With opened eyes, I clung to the neck of the man I love. His piercing green eyes calmed my spirit and carried me through the familiar stabbing pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My arms wrapped tightly around his neck, I realized this was it.&lt;br /&gt;THIS was the moment we had been waiting for.&lt;br /&gt;THIS was the moment to let go of the pain.&lt;br /&gt;THIS was the moment of spiritual growth.&lt;br /&gt;THIS was the moment to PUSH!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*******&lt;br /&gt;aprox. 3:50p.m.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;I was done. But I wasn't done.&lt;br /&gt;I'd had enough.&lt;br /&gt;I asked to go home.&lt;br /&gt;Then, like my sister, who delivered 2 of her six children without drugs, and my Mom who delivered one of my sisters that way too, had described, I was entering the 'ring of fire' phase of labor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Through watering eyes, John yelled, "We can't go home now. You're doing it. Right now. She's coming. She's here!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly, the pain stopped and tears of Joy began to flow.&lt;br /&gt;She was laid on my chest.&lt;br /&gt;Her umbilical cord pulsated and was left uncut until it became still.&lt;br /&gt;She nursed right away.&lt;br /&gt;All three of us cried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes things don't go as planned. But sometimes, they do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*******&lt;br /&gt;John and I spent the next hour and a half loving our new baby girl and each other. When we were ready, we called our parents and made plans for The Girls to meet their Baby Sister.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt great. I was up and walking around almost immediately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John stayed with the baby in the nursery while I washed up and changed clothes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walked to the nursery.&lt;br /&gt;I gave our sweet baby girl her first bath.&lt;br /&gt;I dressed her in a pink sleeper with flowers and put a hot pink polka dot bow in her hair.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/TH6YfyD024I/AAAAAAAAAJ8/kIn_Qge9vHk/s1600/EM1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512010665729252226" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/TH6YfyD024I/AAAAAAAAAJ8/kIn_Qge9vHk/s320/EM1.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ella-Marie Joy is finally here. She is healthy and perfect in every way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's our first family photo as a Party of Five.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/TH6ZNtFkEUI/AAAAAAAAAKE/35xKal9Hodk/s1600/EM+first+family+picP7040202.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 229px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512011454668345666" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/TH6ZNtFkEUI/AAAAAAAAAKE/35xKal9Hodk/s320/EM+first+family+picP7040202.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-3470109617886926894?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/3470109617886926894/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=3470109617886926894' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/3470109617886926894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/3470109617886926894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2010/08/joy-comes-in-afternoon.html' title='Joy comes in the afternoon...'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/TH5oIm8tGiI/AAAAAAAAAJE/4VXMcSCS4cc/s72-c/Belly.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-8861813112253019962</id><published>2010-07-28T11:27:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-28T11:32:55.916-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Birth Story?</title><content type='html'>I'm not avoiding you.&lt;br /&gt;I just can't find the right words to describe the awesomeness of E-M's birth experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, she was born.&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I did it naturally, sans drugs, iv's, and yucky hospital gowns.&lt;br /&gt;Yes, it was the most beautiful experience of my entire life.&lt;br /&gt;No, I didn't punch John in the face.&lt;br /&gt;Yes, it was the most amazing experience of our, nearly eight year, marriage.&lt;br /&gt;Yes, The Girls LOVE their baby sister.&lt;br /&gt;Yes, life is perfect, to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...more to come later. I promise. When my mind is inspired the way my heart was.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-8861813112253019962?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/8861813112253019962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=8861813112253019962' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/8861813112253019962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/8861813112253019962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2010/07/birth-story.html' title='Birth Story?'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-1253486088768479756</id><published>2010-07-05T04:56:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-05T05:28:45.979-05:00</updated><title type='text'>...and then I punched him in the face</title><content type='html'>Have you ever wanted something to begin, last forever, AND end at the same time?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last fall, I wanted this pg SOOOO very much to begin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, after a few scares over the holidays, I wanted it SOOOOO very much to last forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, 9.5 months later, I SOOOOO can't wait for it to end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I'm miserable. Yes, I haven't slept in 3days because of early labor contractions. Yes, I remain in a constant state of prayer, asking for forgiveness for my daily thoughts of punching random, and not so random, people in the face for asking stupid questions like, "Uh, Christina, ya think your pregnant enough?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What? Seriously? You better run, Dude!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that's not why I can't wait for this pg to end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait because in a few days (or God help me, weeks) a missing piece to our family puzzle will be found. The shadow of a child I invisioned running behind S-O and Rae on the playground last summer, will finally have a face. The accidental lie I told early last fall to a lady at CVS will become truth (she asked me how many children I had, and I, without missing a beat and without being pg at the time, answered, "I've got three girls.")&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait to dress them in matching dresses and hairbows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait to see Rae's face when she meets her Baby Sister.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait for S-O to stand proudly with her arm around Rae, looking down on the precious baby that completes their trio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pray for a happy, healthy, baby girl.&lt;br /&gt;I pray for a swift, uneventful, labor.&lt;br /&gt;I pray John and I can manage the pain, together.&lt;br /&gt;I pray that during the most difficult parts of labor I don't punch him in the face when he looks me square in the eyes and says, 'You can do it. I know you can. I love you.'&lt;br /&gt;But mostly I pray to thank God for the opportunity to create this child and for the strength to safely bring her into this world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-1253486088768479756?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/1253486088768479756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=1253486088768479756' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/1253486088768479756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/1253486088768479756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2010/07/and-then-i-punched-him-in-face.html' title='...and then I punched him in the face'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-2945752866072395861</id><published>2010-06-28T15:20:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-28T15:25:54.502-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My new bumper sticker...</title><content type='html'>Rae: Mommy, I pooped in the potty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Oh, good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rae: Don't I get some chocolate now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Well, didn't Daddy already give you chocolate?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rae: Yes. But YOU didn't. I came to tell you I need YOU to give me chocolate too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Really?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rae: Yes. I came to tell you, Mommy, I need chocolate from you because&lt;br /&gt;I POOP FOR CHOCOLATE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: (getting up to give her a piece of chocolate) Now THAT would make a good bumper sticker.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-2945752866072395861?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/2945752866072395861/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=2945752866072395861' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/2945752866072395861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/2945752866072395861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2010/06/my-new-bumper-sticker.html' title='My new bumper sticker...'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-6324149712236532591</id><published>2010-06-22T14:05:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-22T14:16:41.364-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Phrases I'm sick of hearing, and my responses.</title><content type='html'>"Wow, are you sure there's just ONE baby in there?"&lt;br /&gt;-YES you Moron!&lt;br /&gt;Then I punch them in the face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"(with a sad, pathetic look on their face) Awwww, ANOTHER girl...well, maybe you can try again for a boy?"&lt;br /&gt;-Uh, we weren't 'trying' for a boy. We just wanted another child.&lt;br /&gt;Then I punch them in the face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No baby yet??? When are you due again?"&lt;br /&gt;-Yeah, I had her last week. I'm just still a bit bloated.&lt;br /&gt;Then I punch them in the face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You look great! You're all baby. I mean, the rest of you looks the same."&lt;br /&gt;-I seriously doubt you mean that, and actually, unless I birth a 30lb baby, I DID gain everywhere else as well. But thanks.&lt;br /&gt;Then I punch them in the face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"(while making a tisk tisk sound with their mouth) Girl, I was there once. I know how you feel. When I was pregnant with my first son, he's 25yrs old now, I was as big as you."&lt;br /&gt;-Really? Thanks.&lt;br /&gt;Then I punch them in the face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Is this your first?" -No, third.&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, well, how old are your other two?" -2 and 5.&lt;br /&gt;"WOW, you're about to have your hands full!"&lt;br /&gt;-No, really?&lt;br /&gt;Then I punch them in the face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"(this from a random male hair dresser or post office worker) So, are you going to deliver naturally or get a c-section?"&lt;br /&gt;-First of all, I think you mean, 'Vaginally', go ahead, say it, 'V-A-G-I-N-A-L-L-Y.' It sounds like V-A-G-I-N-A. Vagina, vagina, vagina...BOO!   Secondly, IT'S NONE OF YOUR STINKIN' BEEZ WAX, MISTER!!!&lt;br /&gt;Then I punch them in the face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I bet it sucks being pregnant in the summer?"&lt;br /&gt;-No, it's actually quite nice and comfortable. I wear a black swimsuit to the beach/pool and people throw raw fish at me because they think I'm Shamu. Then I punch them in the face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sweety, you need to take it easy and get some rest. Here in a few weeks you won't have much time for sleep."&lt;br /&gt;-I'm a freakin' stay-at-home-Mom to two children under 6yrs old. When on earth do you expect me to 'take it easy' or 'get some rest'?!?!? Oh, and BTW, I haven't slept since 2003! So bite me! Then I punch them in the face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...to be continued&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-6324149712236532591?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/6324149712236532591/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=6324149712236532591' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/6324149712236532591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/6324149712236532591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2010/06/phrases-im-sick-of-hearing-and-my.html' title='Phrases I&apos;m sick of hearing, and my responses.'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-180750548080176549</id><published>2010-05-25T09:42:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-25T10:14:46.313-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A letter</title><content type='html'>Dear &lt;a href="http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/09/glory-baby.html"&gt;Glory Baby&lt;/a&gt;,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I would be holding you,&lt;br /&gt;snuggling you into my arm and calming your cry with my breast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, your Big Sisters would have fought over who got to help change you&lt;br /&gt;or pat your back into a burp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, your Daddy would have looked into your eyes and promised to love and protect you every day of his life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But on this day, your due date, you are singing us lullabies from Heaven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You were only in my womb for a few weeks, but every second felt like a minute.&lt;br /&gt;Every minute an hour.&lt;br /&gt;Every hour a day.&lt;br /&gt;Every day a week.&lt;br /&gt;Every week a decade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although I smile and rejoice in the future, I miss you every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Mommy&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-180750548080176549?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/180750548080176549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=180750548080176549' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/180750548080176549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/180750548080176549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2010/05/letter.html' title='A letter'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-1022557807829652688</id><published>2010-05-13T09:30:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-13T09:41:24.065-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm not scared.</title><content type='html'>In six to ten weeks, we will meet our Baby Girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I plan to 'attempt' to have a natural, drug-free, child birth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not scared.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-1022557807829652688?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/1022557807829652688/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=1022557807829652688' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/1022557807829652688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/1022557807829652688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2010/05/im-not-scared.html' title='I&apos;m not scared.'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-921182104657703992</id><published>2010-03-02T19:18:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-02T19:26:40.554-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Big Fat...Nose</title><content type='html'>The next stranger that asks me how far along I am, gasps when I tell them, and proceeds to ask me if I'm having twins....is getting punched in the nose, hard!  That, or I'm telling them it's twins so they'll feel sorry for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(side: I'm ok with the weight gain. It's all part of the process. Actually, I'm grateful for it, and all the other discomforts of pregnancy, because they remind me every day of the blessing I've received to be given another chance at being pg. It's the rude strangers that aggrevate me most ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-921182104657703992?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/921182104657703992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=921182104657703992' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/921182104657703992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/921182104657703992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2010/03/big-fatnose.html' title='Big Fat...Nose'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-9156114060588861812</id><published>2010-02-25T14:48:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-25T15:06:36.925-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Driving up the mountain</title><content type='html'>Today, on our way up the mountain to pick S-O up from school, this 45 second conversation ensued between Baby Rae (2yrs old) and I:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mommy, I need my tap shoes. Hahahahahahaha! I mean BALLET shoes. Hahahahahah! I said tap shoes. Not my tap shoes, I need my ballet shoes so I can chasse' down the street (me: ?). Watch out for the bears, Mommy!!! (me: the bears?) Yes, the bears in the cave. Don't drive to the bears in the cave. I am thirsty. Can I have water? (me: when we get to...) Jacob got a spanking because he opened the door and ran into the street. The cars could hit him. (me: that's right, you nev....) I need to find my nockelers (me: nockelers? do you mean binoculars?). Yes, my nockelers. (me: when we get home I'll look for them). Go find them now Mommy. I need them. I SEE A LION, oh no!!! We better run, quick. HAhahahahah! I don't mean run. You are driving. Not running. Oh NO, there's a goat. I'm scared of the goat. I need the nockelers to find the goat. I love you Mommy, can I have some chips. (me: (sigh) I love you too)."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-9156114060588861812?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/9156114060588861812/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=9156114060588861812' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/9156114060588861812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/9156114060588861812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2010/02/driving-up-mountain.html' title='Driving up the mountain'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-6962048017479122308</id><published>2010-02-16T22:47:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-17T14:41:14.227-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Spring?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/S3t1ouSCY8I/AAAAAAAAAI0/9XzDn8znvDM/s1600-h/flower2-16.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439070317458908098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/S3t1ouSCY8I/AAAAAAAAAI0/9XzDn8znvDM/s320/flower2-16.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Where are you, sweet sweet Spring?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I need you. I want you. I long for your floral blooms and warm pollen-filled sky!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh, Spring!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-6962048017479122308?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/6962048017479122308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=6962048017479122308' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/6962048017479122308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/6962048017479122308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2010/02/spring.html' title='Spring?'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/S3t1ouSCY8I/AAAAAAAAAI0/9XzDn8znvDM/s72-c/flower2-16.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-509649534027241148</id><published>2010-02-06T09:22:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-06T14:19:48.738-06:00</updated><title type='text'>It's a BOY!!!!!!</title><content type='html'>Or maybe it's a girl. We don't know, YET.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, EVERYONE seems to have an opinion.&lt;br /&gt;I don't mind people guessing or speculating the gender of Baby J.&lt;br /&gt;I don't even mind when they ask if we're hoping for a boy or another girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's the ones that say, "Oh, I bet you're hoping for a boy this time," that REALLY gets on my nerves. Or worse, "Oh NO! What if you get ANOTHER girl!!!" You know, as though having THREE girls would be the kiss of death or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do people automatically assume I/we want, hope and wish this baby is a boy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess it all ties into the 'American Dream', where everyone SHOULD want to have 2.5 children, of which one is a boy and one is a girl. What about that .5?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What if I tell you I would absolutely LOVE another girl?&lt;br /&gt;What if I tell you I would absolutely LOVE a boy?&lt;br /&gt;What if...what if I tell you how I'd really like to answer the question of whether or not we are hopeful for a boy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd say:&lt;br /&gt;"Frankly, I don't give a flying flip about the gender of our baby! I just hope and pray during each OB visit that when the nurse places the cold microphone-looking wand on my lower abdomen we will hear a strong 'swhoosh, swhoosh, swhoosh.' I pray that in less than a month, the ultra sound technician has a smile on her face as she waves the blue goop slathered sonogram receiver over my naval, and I hope she maintains her smile throughout the entire survey. I pray that sometime in July, I give birth to a screaming crying baby who nuzzles into my neck and suddenly calms down with the peace of knowing I am HIS or HER Mommy. So, no, I don't care if it's a boy, or a girl for that matter. I just want a living breathing baby to hold."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, THAT wouldn't be the 'nice' answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, in the meantime, when people ask me if I'm hoping for a boy/girl, I will say "Yes." Because I am.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-509649534027241148?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/509649534027241148/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=509649534027241148' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/509649534027241148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/509649534027241148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2010/02/its-boy.html' title='It&apos;s a BOY!!!!!!'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-6408998520430758139</id><published>2010-02-04T14:22:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-06T14:25:11.765-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My Girl</title><content type='html'>Last week, while working with my 5yr old on her speech therapy homework, we came across a list of questions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One question read, "What do you need to buy something from the store?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her answer:  "Coupons"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's MY GIRL!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-6408998520430758139?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/6408998520430758139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=6408998520430758139' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/6408998520430758139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/6408998520430758139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2010/02/my-girl.html' title='My Girl'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-7611361844576134476</id><published>2009-12-09T14:41:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-09T14:56:24.994-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A WARNING to all Expectant Fathers:</title><content type='html'>NEVER, I repeat, NEVER ask or say the following to your significant other, who is pg with your child:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- "Who ate all the queso? I only got a little bit when we opened the jar three days ago!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- "Ranch dip? On _____________ (insert any food the pg woman is eating like eggs, pancakes, peanut butter and tomato sandwich, apples...etc)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- "Wow Honey, you can already fit into my pants?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- "I am so tired."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- "My _________ (insert any part of the human body) hurts."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-7611361844576134476?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/7611361844576134476/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=7611361844576134476' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/7611361844576134476'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/7611361844576134476'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/12/warning-to-all-expectant-fathers.html' title='A WARNING to all Expectant Fathers:'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-8467615303141162016</id><published>2009-11-25T18:50:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-26T00:05:04.724-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Today, we are thankful for...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/Sw3RIF334EI/AAAAAAAAAIs/W2uuqV2yySo/s1600/Big+Sister.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408208664487518274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/Sw3RIF334EI/AAAAAAAAAIs/W2uuqV2yySo/s400/Big+Sister.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, it's true. Joy comes in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;Well, it will one warm summer day in July 2010.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-8467615303141162016?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/8467615303141162016/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=8467615303141162016' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/8467615303141162016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/8467615303141162016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/11/today-we-are-thanful-for.html' title='Today, we are thankful for...'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/Sw3RIF334EI/AAAAAAAAAIs/W2uuqV2yySo/s72-c/Big+Sister.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-2576451646256167791</id><published>2009-11-24T09:02:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-12T16:47:54.206-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Of Husbands and Sleeping</title><content type='html'>A few nights ago, during S-O's bedtime routine:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S-O: Why can't I sleep in your bed with you and Daddy.&lt;br /&gt;me:  Because you have your bed and Daddy and I have ours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S-O:  Why do you sleep with Daddy?&lt;br /&gt;me:  Because he is my husband and we love each other, so we sleep together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S-O: I love you and Daddy. Can't I sleep in ya'lls bed? I don't want to sleep by myself.&lt;br /&gt;me:  No. When you grow up and have your own husband, he can sleep in your bed with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S-O: I have an idea. When I grow up and get a husband, you can sleep in my bed with my husband and I'll sleep in your bed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-2576451646256167791?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/2576451646256167791/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=2576451646256167791' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/2576451646256167791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/2576451646256167791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/11/of-husbands-and-sleeping.html' title='Of Husbands and Sleeping'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-8136044807137148837</id><published>2009-11-19T08:34:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-19T08:38:22.484-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Bless you</title><content type='html'>Baby Rae sat snuggled on my lap eating her fresh cut apples while we waited for her big sister's dance class to finish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seven fellow Dance Moms sat among us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sneezed (into my sleeve of course).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nobody said a word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Baby Rae twisted her head backwards, touched my face, and said, "Bless you, Mommy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, indeed, I am blessed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-8136044807137148837?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/8136044807137148837/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=8136044807137148837' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/8136044807137148837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/8136044807137148837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/11/bless-you.html' title='Bless you'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-3568176260730323435</id><published>2009-11-14T07:02:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-14T07:05:47.108-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Innocent Thanks</title><content type='html'>My not quite 5yr old, S-O, had a project in her PreK class in which she had to decorate a turkey feather shaped piece of construction paper with things that represent what she's thankful for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We covered it with Dora fabric, added some sparkly jewels, tied a ribbon into a bow and taped a picture of her and her Baby Sister to the top. But the most special part of the project was her list of thanks. The following was written on her feather in a VERY specific order, according to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am thankful for:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mommy&lt;br /&gt;Diego and Dora&lt;br /&gt;Me&lt;br /&gt;Daddy&lt;br /&gt;Biscuits&lt;br /&gt;My Baby Sister&lt;br /&gt;The Sun&lt;br /&gt;Turkey&lt;br /&gt;Computers&lt;br /&gt;Eyes&lt;br /&gt;Crayons&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't help but laugh and cry at the same time while she dictated the words I wrote.  I long for such simple thanks. Then again, my list would probably look A LOT like hers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-3568176260730323435?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/3568176260730323435/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=3568176260730323435' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/3568176260730323435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/3568176260730323435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/11/innocent-thanks.html' title='Innocent Thanks'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-4335803413605685927</id><published>2009-09-22T11:58:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-22T14:10:29.811-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Glory Baby</title><content type='html'>Today was going to be the day we surprised our friends and family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was going to be the day we posted the pic we took over the weekend of Baby Rae in S-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;O's&lt;/span&gt; 'Big Sister' shirt and waited for everyone to figure out our good news.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was going to be the day I added the video of my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;inlaws&lt;/span&gt; 'figuring it out' over the weekend to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Facebook&lt;/span&gt; and our Blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was going to be the day I put last months miscarriage (or chemical pg as the medical experts call it) behind me and rejoiced that God gave us another chance at being pg.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was going to be THAT day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;---------------------------------------------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;This too shall pass.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;God has a plan.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;It wasn't meant to be.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Time will heal.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;You were only 5weeks. Oh well then, at least you weren't _____&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;wks&lt;/span&gt; (insert a number between 5 and 40)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;At least you can GET pregnant.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;There must have been an abnormality with the baby. Consider yourself lucky.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Maybe it was another girl and next time it will be your boy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;You shouldn't have tested so early. Why do you keep doing that to yourself?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;It will happen again, have faith.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;You should plant a tree, journal your experience, buy a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;remembrance&lt;/span&gt; necklace, maybe it will help heal.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Next time, don't tell everyone until you're in the second trimester, it may jinx it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;You can try again next month, or in three months, your choice.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Did you have to have a D&amp;amp;C?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;One time, at band camp, a friend of my friend Jane, knew a girl who had a miscarriage.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Are you &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;-------------------------------------------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Yes, God has a plan. A plan bigger than anything I can dream up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;We are grateful, joyful even, despite the emotional and physical pain because we know that one day we will look back and be thankful for these experiences. Not necessarily thankful for the pain, but thankful for the growth that comes from the pain.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I plan to buy another rememberance necklace in honor of this angel baby. And, next May, our &lt;a href="http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/05/this-year-our-little-family-decided-to.html"&gt;Mother's Day Tribute&lt;/a&gt; will have a whole new meaning.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Until then, Glory Baby, like the song by Watermark says, "Heaven will hold you before we do, but we miss you everyday."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-4335803413605685927?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/4335803413605685927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=4335803413605685927' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/4335803413605685927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/4335803413605685927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/09/glory-baby.html' title='Glory Baby'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-4104904039070985844</id><published>2009-09-13T23:29:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-13T23:36:40.615-05:00</updated><title type='text'>"You're the BEST..."</title><content type='html'>S-O to John: "Daddy, you're the BEST Daddy in the WHOLE world!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John to S-O:  "Well, thank you S-O, you're the BEST Oldest Daughter in the WHOLE World!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me to S-O in my best throat clearing voice:  "He' Hemm?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S-O to me:  "Mommy, you're the BEST Mommy in the WHOLE world!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, sometimes even The Cleaner of Vomit, Wiper of Butts, Kisser of Scrapes, Referee of Sisterly Fights, Washer of All Things Dirty, Queen Ruler, and Bedtime Tucker-Inner needs to fish for compliments.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-4104904039070985844?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/4104904039070985844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=4104904039070985844' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/4104904039070985844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/4104904039070985844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/09/youre-best.html' title='&quot;You&apos;re the BEST...&quot;'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-3362587624664054029</id><published>2009-09-11T10:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-27T08:05:32.300-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Counting Forwards</title><content type='html'>...a continuation of &lt;a href="http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/08/counting-backwards.html"&gt;Counting Backwards&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She met her most loyal and responsible employee, Erika, at the mall bright and early on that crisp September day. The corridors were dark and quiet until the 'click' of her Store Manager key broke the silence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was inventory day. An annual task that could either make or break a new manager of 9 months. But she was confident. It would be a good day, she thought to herself, as she lifted the gate and hurried to disarm the security system of HER jewelry store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was supposed to be in Indiana. The first week of December 2000, she had accepted a store in some small town south of Indianapolis. She didn't like cold weather. But, it was a way out. Out of debt. Out of her family. Out of the series of events that eventually lead to last months &lt;a href="http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/08/counting-backwards.html"&gt;surgery&lt;/a&gt;. Out of the only town she'd ever known...Houston.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Erika opened the safe and began setting out the diamonds. Bracelets, earrings, rings. They were all stunning tokens of love waiting to be counted and recounted before they began their day of sitting pretty in the case. Their only job was to shine so brightly that any cross-eyed lover whose financial judgement was impaired would succumb to temptation and take them home for a wife, girl friend, or both.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Manager was in charge of setting up and counting the bridal cases. These pieces of pressurized coal had a more poignant role. Their high price tag, often equal to two months salary, served a unique breed of customer. Although many a Tom, Dick, or Harry would flirt with an emerald, marquis, or princess cut for their One, it was the round stone whose perfection drew the most lure. It's precise angles of sparkle and glare cut to the heart of many young men.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her mind wondered as she placed the rings of gold and platinum in their designated slots.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Would SHE ever be on the receiving end of one of these circular sparkles of joy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She felt a division every time she smiled and gave her shpeel to a client: Color, Cut, and clarity. Your lover will feel like the most important person in the world. Yada Yada Yada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She would cover all the bases. Refraining from saying what really choked her throat during a bridal sales presentation:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why the hell can't I find a nice guy like you to love me and court me and by me a ring? Really. I want to know. Tell me. What's wrong with ME? Am I too successful? Too intimidating? Too pretty? Too strong? Ha! I'm not. I'm a college drop out. I feel smaller than the imperfection in that diamond I just sold you. I don't feel pretty. Sexy, yes. But someone like me can't be pretty. My heart is too black. Strong? HA again! I weep like a willow every night, alone, in my one bedroom studio apartment. I HATE living alone. I hated living with my parents, but I hate living alone more. I smile, but I'm dead. I convince you to spend double what you intended because I'm mad. I'm mad that you are so sweet. I'm mad that your soon-to-be wife is not as cute as me. (Thanks for showing me her picture btw). I'm mad that she has you, you have my diamond, I have your money, my 'boyfriend's' in England or Paris or France, and I'm all alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was going to be a good day. She smiled as her awaited inventory analyst, Gus, tapped lightly on the gate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Good Morning Ladies, are we going to have a good day?" To which she replied with a smile and a nod. Today, her store would be redeemed. Her first inventory was a disaster. A few weeks before Christmas 2000, ironically the day after her birthday, she had been offered this store. It was in shambles with an entire new staff, two of whom didn't speak English. The inventory manifest didn't match up for sh**. It would take A LOT of hard work, long hours and a new management style to fix this mess. She had to make a choice: leave with the offer in Indiana or stay and rescue the local store. She stayed. She wondered if she'd regret it; much like she'd regretted a decision she'd made 5 1/2 years earlier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;A week after high school ended, back in 1995, she registered for classes and attended student orientation at The University of Texas in Austin. She was scared to move to the new town, alone. Her fear, lack of funds, and a boy that needed rescuing convinced her to stay. She regretted it. Little did she know the decision to stay in Houston, both times, would change the entire course of her life, twice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The counting began. In the days leading up to inventory, all of the employees participated in counting and making note of every piece of mineral and stone. They counted backwards and forwards and backwards again. Today, was a forwards day. Each case was counted, scanned, counted again, and marked with an X. Once it was matched up with a dollar amount, and cleared by Gus, they moved on to the next. Purposefully. Meticulously. Every detail calculated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She liked counting forwards. It made her feel progressive, less stagnant. It made her feel like she was moving forward towards a goal. Today's goal was to reach an equilibrium. It would be a new beginning. It would be a day to leave the past behind and start with a clean slate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was just before 9 a.m. She barely noticed Gus hunched over her desk talking on the phone to his wife of thirty years, until, she heard him gasp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"WHAT!? A what hit the what!?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She and Erika looked at each other first and then at Gus. He looked at them both with eyes wide open and explained why his phone conversation had taken a turn. His wife had been watching Good Morning America in the background while they spoke of their grown children and dinner plans. He put her on speaker phone and she described for them, verbatim, what Dianne Sawyer reported. After several minutes of speculation, she tried to spit out the words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It was a terrible accident. The airplane just ran right into the...", his wife, audibly shaken, stopped and let out the most awful blood curling scream. Gus picked up the receiver, concerned for his wife's safety.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His dark brown Jewish skin turned a pale pale green as he dropped the phone for a second and hurriedly picked it back up. With his pupils dilated and a confused fear arched in his brow, he looked over at the two young ladies and said with a nervous voice, "Another plane hit the second tower."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her mind went blank for a minute. Not really understanding the magnitude of what he already knew. It was not an accident. It was terrorism. Purposefully. Meticulously. Every detail Calculated, terrorism.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then, the towers fell. Then, the Pentagon was hit. Then another plane, with the White House a likely target, went down in Pennsylvania.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They immediately secured the jewelry and left the store to be with their families, wondering who was next. L.A.? Miami? Houston? They DID have one of the largest ship channels in the country. Schools closed. Planes grounded, nation wide. An eerie silence filled the southern skies of an otherwise air-travel-congested town. No sound touched the clouds except for a few birds and six fighter jets that were scrambled from a nearby air base.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the frenzy, only one person's safety came to her mind; a tall handsome young man, who to work for N.A.S.A. at the time, who, until that day, she'd referred to as a 'good friend'. (It wasn't until about three days later that she wondered about the safety of her 'boyfriend' who worked in Europe and was expected to fly back to the states any day now).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She met up with him and went to her mother's house to check on her little sisters. Once everyone was safe at home, she and her 'good friend' went back to her apartment. They spent the rest of the day by the pool, trying to forget NY and Washington.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That day, they both realized life was short. Nothing was a guarantee. Except, except for the feelings that began to brew on that cool day in September. She starred at the blackness of his pupils to avoid the captivation of his stunning green eyes, but, somewhere between the flecks of yellow and gold that seemed to burst out of the dark center, she saw something familiar. Comfortable. Something in his eyes said, "I'll never hurt you. Give me a chance. I'll love you and I'll never leave you." It was the same contentment and gravitational pull she felt from the blurry faced young man she'd seen in her surgery dreams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite the devastation the day held for millions of Americans, she felt a hot feeling in her chest and she knew today was a good day. A day of equilibrium. A day that would change EVERYTHING. A day to count forwards, into the future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.....to be continued. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-3362587624664054029?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/3362587624664054029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=3362587624664054029' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/3362587624664054029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/3362587624664054029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2010/02/counting-forwards.html' title='Counting Forwards'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-6774306750573085185</id><published>2009-09-09T14:18:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-09T14:28:06.307-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Forgot</title><content type='html'>The only thing worse (as in a figure of speech and not literally) than getting where you're going 15 min early, only to realize you forgot to bring THE important item you were going to bring, and then having to turn around and go back home to get it and try to race back before you wind up being late for the event you &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;initially&lt;/span&gt; were early to, would be...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IF once you got home to get THE item, you couldn't find it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the only thing worse than that would be, upon returning to your house and tearing it upside down looking for THE item, you check the SUV(the one you were driving) in a moment of panic and desperation, only to FIND THE item you were looking for, because it was there all along and you never really forgot it to begin with.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-6774306750573085185?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/6774306750573085185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=6774306750573085185' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/6774306750573085185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/6774306750573085185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/09/forgot.html' title='Forgot'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-7996088149516072191</id><published>2009-09-03T07:57:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-03T08:01:51.254-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Unromantic?</title><content type='html'>Would it be really UNromantic to ask for new 'cheap' silverware for our 7 year anniversary so the kids will stop scratching up my 'good' Mikasa silverware?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or, should I just do the dishes more often so we don't run out of our current stock of 'cheap' silverware, thus the need to use the 'good' stuff?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, same question about the 'good' towels.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-7996088149516072191?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/7996088149516072191/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=7996088149516072191' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/7996088149516072191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/7996088149516072191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/09/unromantic.html' title='Unromantic?'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-1845947888034996143</id><published>2009-09-02T10:26:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-02T10:35:30.145-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The WINNER is....</title><content type='html'>The WINNER of the All About Saving Cashola Month contest is..........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-c59975b2ae7f0218" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v23.nonxt5.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dc59975b2ae7f0218%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331479230%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D53E5F4298D3025D6A2D51E9C29B82B160BAF5679.57DB47B0D148158D849EB36F73B94D6BCA21D4AE%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dc59975b2ae7f0218%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D2DYItTkAtDdwLWPDfK3ioj339JY&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v23.nonxt5.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dc59975b2ae7f0218%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331479230%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D53E5F4298D3025D6A2D51E9C29B82B160BAF5679.57DB47B0D148158D849EB36F73B94D6BCA21D4AE%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dc59975b2ae7f0218%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D2DYItTkAtDdwLWPDfK3ioj339JY&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Mrs. Heather Geary!!!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Heather saved $858.93 on grocery and drug store items during the month of August using coupons and shopping sales. Way to go Heather!!! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;As The WINNER, Heather will recieve a NEW PAIR OF SCISSORS, a purse sized COUPON ORGANIZER, a POCKET CALCULATOR, a COMPOSITION NOTEBOOK, a PACK OF BIC PENS, and an AWESOME ZIPPER COUPON BINDER/ORGANIZER complete with TRADING CARD SIZE COUPON SLEEVES and DIVIDERS....JUST LIKE THE ONE I USE!!!!! AND, AT LEAST $100 IN MONEY SAVING COUPONS!!! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;CONGRATULATIONS HEATHER!!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Oh, and as a group, we saved over $3500!!! WAY TO GO, FELLOW COUPONERS!!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-1845947888034996143?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=c59975b2ae7f0218&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/1845947888034996143/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=1845947888034996143' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/1845947888034996143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/1845947888034996143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/09/winner-is.html' title='The WINNER is....'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-6102738918995141473</id><published>2009-08-30T11:05:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-30T11:38:11.651-05:00</updated><title type='text'>All About Saving Cashola Month- 36hrs and Counting</title><content type='html'>We're in the home stretch of the final 36hrs of the &lt;a href="http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/07/couponing-tips-tricks-and-contest.html"&gt;All About Saving Cashola Month Contest.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been pleasantly surprised at the amount of friends, family, and bloggers who have decided to participate in the contest. Some people have even said they don't care about winning the contest as much as they have appreciated the push into the couponing world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've heard story after story of people who have never, or rarely, used coupons getting out there and saving some serious cashola by shopping smarter with sales and coupons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It makes my heart smile!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, fellow money savers, pull out your Sunday papers (I say paperS because I KNOW you buy at least two, right?) and make your Sunday/Monday food and drug store deal runs soon because tomorrow is the last day of the contest. After tomorrow, you will have 24hrs to gather up your receipts and pull out the old push button calculator to add up your total savings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember, the contest only includes food and regular drug store items bought at grocery and drug stores on sale or with coupons. For example, if you buy a computer desk, flat screen tv, garden plants or clothes on sale or with a coupon at a place like Walmart...don't include those items. I'm looking for savings on GROCERIES and REGULAR DRUG STORE ITEMS, If you have a question about a particular store or item qualifying for this contest, just ask.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most stores print your total savings in bold at the bottom of your receipt, so add up those numbers on purchases made between August 1st and August 31st and submit the following to me, via comment to this post, comment to tomorrow's post, or via Facebook Private Message, by midnight on September 1st:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your First and Last Name and the total $ amount saved, and (OPTIONAL) the total amount spent OOP (out of pocket) on qualifying items.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Personally, I like to add up my total amount spent OOP and total amount saved so I can see the net worth of the goods I've purchased. For example, if I spent $30 OOP at Kroger and saved $58, I like seeing on paper that I have $88 worth of goods that I purchased for only $30.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look forward to hearing your ALL ABOUT SAVING CASHOLA MONTH total savings!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GOOD LUCK!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-6102738918995141473?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/6102738918995141473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=6102738918995141473' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/6102738918995141473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/6102738918995141473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/08/all-about-saving-cashola-month-36hrs.html' title='All About Saving Cashola Month- 36hrs and Counting'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-1302685644685112135</id><published>2009-08-24T07:39:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T08:11:30.191-05:00</updated><title type='text'>All About Saving Cashola Month---Final Week</title><content type='html'>I'm SOOOO excited about the amount of people who have decided to stop whining about their budget and get out there and save some serious cashola using coupons and shopping sales!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The All About Saving Cashola Month is going by super fast. Today marks the beginning of the FINAL WEEK of the &lt;a href="http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/07/couponing-tips-tricks-and-contest.html"&gt;contest&lt;/a&gt;. It's not too late to enter. Matter of fact, even if you don't enter the contest, you can start saving cashola with coupons TODAY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In case you missed it on previous posts, here are a couple of web sites that help me organize and plan grocery and drug store shopping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.couponmom.com"&gt;Coupon Mom&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.southernsavers.com"&gt;Southern Savers&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.twothriftysisters.blogspot.com"&gt;Two Thrifty Sisters&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.iheartcvs.com"&gt;I Heart CVS&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, back to the contest. Here's a pic of what the winner will receive, shipped FREE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373513972278003570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpKOfNk6h3I/AAAAAAAAAIE/Aar6ymwaBNc/s400/PRIZEall.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;This is EXACTLY like the binder I use to organize my coupons. The winner will also receive about $100 worth of coupons, clipped, organized and ready for saving some major CASHOLA!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;A mid-month poll of SOME of the people who are participating, showed we, as a group, had saved over $1100!!! I know for a fact, that number has DOUBLED. And we still have another week to go!!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I can't wait to see the end results! Keep up the GREAT work!!!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-1302685644685112135?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/1302685644685112135/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=1302685644685112135' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/1302685644685112135'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/1302685644685112135'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/08/all-about-saving-cashola-month-final.html' title='All About Saving Cashola Month---Final Week'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpKOfNk6h3I/AAAAAAAAAIE/Aar6ymwaBNc/s72-c/PRIZEall.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-1641098162250417864</id><published>2009-08-18T20:11:00.012-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-12T17:12:35.289-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Counting Backwards</title><content type='html'>As she lay motionless on the operating table, watching the nurse with the red hair and comforting blue eyes tap tap tap lightly the tube of meds about to enter her left hand, her mind wondered into the future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She saw a tall, handsome, blurry-faced young man sitting beside her on an airplane. Her heart raced towards their destination and her lips parted towards his kiss. He, without a doubt, loved and adored her more than she knew. More than she could ever have hoped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You'll feel a cool sensation in your arm," Nurse Red-Head interrupted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She nodded and forced her stare to the tile ceiling. Just as her mind struggled to find the young man once again, the nurse whispered, "Now, count backwards from ten."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Various scenes flashed before her eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some from the future. Some from the past.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ten..." Her voice sputtered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-A white dress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nine..." She hesitated a bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-The handsome young man waiting at the end of the aisle with a love steady in times of fullness and emptiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Eight..." Her voice more steady and firm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-A home. Built of brick, stone, wood, or clay...it didn't really matter as long as HE was with her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Seven..." She said in a normal voice, but was sound still coming from her mouth? She didn't know and didn't care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-A child. Or two. Or three. Or none. As long as she had the chance to try.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Six..." She whispered, as the sound seemed to come from her ears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Her parents. All three of them. Two of which hadn't spoken civilized to one another in nearly two decades; yet together they sat in a waiting room down the hall in support of their first born daughter. And, the third, at work, trying to concentrate as 'his' (in every way that's worth noting) daughter underwent surgery. A surgery that could have so many different outcomes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Five..." Now, it seemed her nose was doing the whispering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Her Grandma C., sitting on Grandpa C's lap, eating dinner, as they had for nearly 40years prior. Prior to Grandma's passing the year before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Four..." Her feet? Could her feet be counting?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-A beautiful little girl with long dark hair and captivating eyes, climbing over a chain link fence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Three...", said her fingertips.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-The many mistakes (and by many, I mean MANY) she made in the past and a silent promise to change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Two...", said her tongue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-A large tree with millions of green, yellow and red leaves, swaying back and forth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"One..." Her eyes spoke with concern and worry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Many Dr.'s visits. Ultrasounds. Mammograms. Biopsies. More ultrasounds. It all came down to this moment. This Lumpectomy on her left breast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She felt a thickness in her throat. She tried to breath, talk and scream all at once. Nurse Curly Black Hair held her chin and tugged on the tube that seemed to swallow her esophagus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mom? Where's my Mom? I'm hungry." Was all she could think to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The dr. thinks she got it all. She'll call you with the results," her Mom said with a slightly shakier voice than normal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I look back on that Monday, 8 years ago, I remember the emotional recovery. The 'not knowing' was the hardest part. My Mom had an inside hook up in Pathology who leaked the news before the dr had a chance to call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Benign Fibro Adenoma Tumer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BENIGN!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My scar healed quickly, but my soul took a bit longer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't deserve BENIGN. The way I was living my life, even 24hours before surgery, I didn't deserve it. I lived in a constant state of disrespect. I disrespected my body, my mind, my parents, my job, my employees, my education, my relationships. I hated life and everything in it. I trusted no one. I mean NO ONE. I not only wasn't on the right path for my life, I was in a messy jungle of wishes, wants and desires, with absolutely no direction or means to achieve my goals, short nor long term.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was me. I was her. August 20, 2001.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, 22 days later, on September 11, 2001, I became 'me'. Well, at least, the beginnings of 'me'. And, only now, do I know and understand why 'I' was given the chance to live this 'benign' life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...to be continued.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-1641098162250417864?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/1641098162250417864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=1641098162250417864' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/1641098162250417864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/1641098162250417864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/08/counting-backwards.html' title='Counting Backwards'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-4868026475367334701</id><published>2009-08-10T17:28:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-10T17:36:32.128-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Is it fair?</title><content type='html'>Assuming you have a wonderful, loving, considerate, overall fabulous husband who is also the love of your life and an AWESOME father to your babies....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it fair to be REALLY REALLY REALLY mad at him, for nearly 48hrs, for something he did in YOUR dream two nights ago?&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;No?...Just thought I'd ask.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-4868026475367334701?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/4868026475367334701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=4868026475367334701' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/4868026475367334701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/4868026475367334701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/08/is-it-fair.html' title='Is it fair?'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-8044134199444746130</id><published>2009-08-02T23:29:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-02T23:35:48.229-05:00</updated><title type='text'>He's BACK!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/03/hello-and-goodbye.html"&gt;HE&lt;/a&gt; is back!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And HE. BROUGHT. FRIENDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't keep plucking. must. make. hair appt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll dye, fry, and cry before I let HIM win!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I". DO NOT. have. gray. hair!!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-8044134199444746130?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/8044134199444746130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=8044134199444746130' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/8044134199444746130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/8044134199444746130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/08/hes-back.html' title='He&apos;s BACK!!!'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-3084331482266635175</id><published>2009-08-01T22:42:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-01T23:42:35.554-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy All About Saving Cashola Month!!!</title><content type='html'>As I posted &lt;a href="http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/07/couponing-tips-tricks-and-contest.html"&gt;HERE&lt;/a&gt;, I have declared the month of August, All About Saving Cashola Month!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In celebration of this festive month, and to officially kick off my money saving &lt;a href="http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/07/couponing-tips-tricks-and-contest.html"&gt;contest&lt;/a&gt;, I ran to CVS and Publix today for a quick shopping trip. Although, my marvelous husband, aka the official entertainer of our two children for the day, may disagree with my definition of "quick".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhow, after shopping sales, using coupons, and redeeming store rebates and gift certificates, I wound up spending $66.90 OOP (out of pocket) on $257.84 worth of groceries, goods and school supplies. That was a daily total savings of $190.93!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, before you roll your eyes and turn to run because you can't believe I'm so pretentious to have bragged about my huge savings after just inviting you to enter a contest on saving money...you should know that I have spent the last three and a half months perfecting my shopping strategy and game plan, AND, before mid-April of this year, I thought people who seriously couponed were losers who didn't have anything better to do with their time than to sit and cut out little squares of paper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel another &lt;a href="http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/03/pass-ketchup-part-2.html"&gt;Pass the Ketchup&lt;/a&gt; coming...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In THIS economy, every little bit helps. And, I've found that those little bits can REALLY add up. Looking back &lt;a href="http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/04/guess-how-much.html"&gt;HERE&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/04/im-learning.html"&gt;HERE&lt;/a&gt;, and &lt;a href="http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/04/quicky-explanation-of-savings.html"&gt;HERE&lt;/a&gt;...I've come a long way. It's funny how "buying" a few extremely cheap and/or free things can reel you into the couponing bandwagon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do I have 'better things' to do? If you consider laundry 'better', than yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mommying is my first priority, and budget shopping goes hand in hand with providing the best possible life for my family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I were to earn an hourly wage for the time I spent today clipping/sorting coupons, grocery game planning, and shopping as compared to the amount of cash I saved.... I would have made about $50/hour, and that's a pretty decent rate if you ask me.&lt;br /&gt;:)Christina&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-3084331482266635175?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/3084331482266635175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=3084331482266635175' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/3084331482266635175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/3084331482266635175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/08/happy-all-about-saving-cashola-month.html' title='Happy All About Saving Cashola Month!!!'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-5824927091517160826</id><published>2009-07-30T19:31:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-30T21:12:21.768-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Couponing Tips, Tricks and a Contest!!!</title><content type='html'>Ok Facebookers, and blog readers, this has been a long time coming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No matter how much money you make (or don't make) EVERYBODY could stand to save a little bit of cashola!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few months ago, I heard several of my friends brag about ways they were saving money with coupons, but never really felt the desire to 'mess' with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, one day, ironically April 15, 2009, I decided that SAVING MONEY should become more of a priority in our household. I went to CVS with $4, a couple of coupons, and a plan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bought a Schick Razor ($10.99 value) and a Schick Razor Refill pack ($9.99 value). I walked out of there with a my razors and a PROFIT of $.26. LEGALLY AND BY THE BOOK! (I'll explain more about that later)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are some of the TIPS AND TRICKS OF COUPONING that have helped me get started:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS buy AT LEAST 2 Sunday papers for the coupon circulars! (unless it's a holiday weekend, then don't buy any, as they most likely won't have coupons)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Try to shop sales AND use coupons to maximize your savings. You can even plan your meals around what's on sale.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Stores such as Publix, Kroger and sometimes CVS take competitor coupons AND manufacturer coupons on the same item.&lt;br /&gt;EXAMPLE: If Kroger has Huggies diapers (regularly $15.99) on sale for $8.99, use an in-store Publix coupon for an additional $2 off, then use a $1.50 off manufacturer coupon (usually comes in the mail or in the Sunday paper)...You could get a pack of Huggies diapers for $5.50. That's less than the off brand diapers!&lt;br /&gt;ADDITIONALLY, lets say you buy 3 of packs of diapers...you can use a Rite Aid $5 off $25 purchase (found online or in the Rite Aid ads found in their store) or Kmart $5 off $25 (sometimes found in their Sunday ad), to save even more!&lt;br /&gt;EXAMPLE:&lt;br /&gt;3 packs of diapers X $8.99 sale price= $26.97&lt;br /&gt;-$6 (one $2 competitor coupon per item)&lt;br /&gt;-$4.50 (one $1.50 manufacturer coupon per item)&lt;br /&gt;-$5 ($5 off $25 competitor coupon)&lt;br /&gt;= $11.47 for 3 packs of diapers!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's a savings of $36.50 off of the regular price!!!&lt;br /&gt;If using the $5 off $25 competitor coupons (or ones like it), MAKE SURE YOU HAND THE CASHIER THAT COUPON FIRST! If you don't, your total after the other coupons won't be enough to make your subtotal $20.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Publix and Kroger always double coupons $.50 or less. Some stores in some cities even TRIPLE coupons up to $.35. Ask your local store if and when they double/triple coupons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-When stores like Publix and Kroger have BOGO (buy one get one free) sales. You don't have to buy 2 to get the discount. For example if an item is BOGO $2...it's $1 for each item. OH and if you have bought two papers, you'll have two coupons for each item and can use BOTH COUPONS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Adding to the savings of BOGO's...if an item is BOGO $2 and you have 2 $.50 coupons (that BTW double making the coupons worth $1each)...guess what...BOTH ITEMS ARE FREE!!!!! Yes, FREE! I try to stock up when I come across these deals. Because, even if I don't need or use the item, I can always hang on to it until I need it or donate it to charity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Most grocery store sales and promos are cyclical. If you see a great deal that ended yesterday, don't fret...it will most likely come back around in 4-6wks, if not sooner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Stockpile when you can. Since you're already saving a ton using coupons and buying on sale...when you come across a GREAT DEAL, take some of the cash you've saved and purchase multiples of those items. It will save you EVEN MORE in the long run.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I said before, I started out small using coupons here and there, and now, only three months later, I've managed to SHAVE HUNDREDS OF DOLLARS off our family's monthly budget for food and drugstore items. AND, I 'buy' a lot of stuff for FREE or nearly FREE, so our family now has lots of groceries and goods stockpiled. OH, and FYI, I only shop at Publix, Kroger, and CVs. I rarely even go to Walmart anymore (thank goodness because boy do I dislike that place!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, going back to that CVS purchase...The Schick Razors and Refills were on sale BOGO.&lt;br /&gt;I had 2 $4 coupons.&lt;br /&gt;10.99 Razor&lt;br /&gt;+9.99 Refill&lt;br /&gt;-9.99 FREE with BOGO&lt;br /&gt;-$4 mfr. coupon&lt;br /&gt;-$4 mfr. coupon&lt;br /&gt;= $2.99 + $.24tx&lt;br /&gt;= $3.23 OOP (cash Out Of Pocket)&lt;br /&gt;-$3.49 ECB (Extra Care Bucks) received&lt;br /&gt;=+$.26 profit&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ECB's are CVS coupons earned by purchasing select items (per CVS weekly ad). ECB's are good towards your next purchase on a pretax basis and usually expire within a couple of weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you've made it this far, CONGRATULATIONS, you deserve to enter my Facebook and Blog Reader contest:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm declaring August the ALL ABOUT SAVING CASHOLA MONTH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to know how much money you have SAVED BY SHOPPING ON SALE AND USING COUPONS at grocery and drug stores!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most stores like Publix, Kroger and CVS put your total savings in &lt;strong&gt;bold print&lt;/strong&gt; at the bottom of your receipt. So, for the month of August, &lt;strong&gt;add those totals up&lt;/strong&gt;! Although saving money at any store for any item is great, for the purpose of this contest, please &lt;strong&gt;only include savings at grocery and drug stores for items usually purchased at those stores&lt;/strong&gt;. For example, if you buy a computer desk, flat screen tv, garden plants or clothes on sale or with a coupon at a place like Walmart...don't include those items. I'm looking for savings on &lt;strong&gt;GROCERIES and REGULAR DRUG STORE ITEMS&lt;/strong&gt;, If you have a question about a particular store or item qualifying for this contest, just ask.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The person who SAVED THE MOST MONEY will win.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I displayed in my BOGO examples above, you don't even have to spend money to save money!!! I'll go by the honor system throughout the month to see how things are progressing, but the final winner will need to show me their receipts either in person or digitally (scanned into pdf's, photographed, or viewed via webcam).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE PRIZE: The winner will receive a &lt;strong&gt;NEW PAIR OF SCISSORS&lt;/strong&gt;, a purse sized &lt;strong&gt;COUPON ORGANIZER&lt;/strong&gt;, a &lt;strong&gt;POCKET CALCULATOR&lt;/strong&gt;, a &lt;strong&gt;NOTE PAD&lt;/strong&gt;, a &lt;strong&gt;PACK OF PENS&lt;/strong&gt;, and an &lt;strong&gt;AWESOME ZIPPER COUPON BINDER/ORGANIZER&lt;/strong&gt; complete with &lt;strong&gt;TRADING CARD SIZE COUPON SLEEVES&lt;/strong&gt; and &lt;strong&gt;DIVIDERS....JUST LIKE THE ONE I USE!!!!!&lt;/strong&gt; I'll even fill it with &lt;strong&gt;AT LEAST $100 IN MONEY SAVING COUPONS &lt;/strong&gt;and &lt;strong&gt;MAIL IT TO YOU FREE&lt;/strong&gt;!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In THIS economy, every little bit of savings helps! So, instead of feeling sad and depressed about your bills or nose-dived 401K.....GET UP AND DO SOMETHING TO HELP YOURSELF!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;August is ALL ABOUT SAVING CASHOLA!!!! So, get to saving money and enter my contest!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This contest is open to all of my Facebook friends and Blog readers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you are planning on participating in this contest, please comment below with your name and a rating from 1 to 10 on how much you were into coupons and shopping sales before today. (Rate from 1 being not that interested in couponing and 10 being you're a super crazy couponing money saver!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good Luck, and Happy All About Saving Cashola Month!!! :)Christina&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-5824927091517160826?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/5824927091517160826/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=5824927091517160826' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/5824927091517160826'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/5824927091517160826'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/07/couponing-tips-tricks-and-contest.html' title='Couponing Tips, Tricks and a Contest!!!'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-3839094648589385165</id><published>2009-07-29T22:48:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-29T22:52:56.117-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Houston, we have a potty pee'er</title><content type='html'>Yes! It's true. We officially have a 20 month old potty pee'er.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although, it was only a few trickles and I had to sprinkle water on her tummy, turn on the bath water and blow cold air down her neck to make it happen...it happened none the less.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Panties by 2yrs old, here we come!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NOTE TO UNIVERSE: I am not bragging. So please, don't jinx me. I'm simply stating facts here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-3839094648589385165?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/3839094648589385165/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=3839094648589385165' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/3839094648589385165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/3839094648589385165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/07/houston-we-have-potty-peeer.html' title='Houston, we have a potty pee&apos;er'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-5987968648260868652</id><published>2009-07-15T11:10:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-15T11:11:34.786-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Lost</title><content type='html'>I have lost my brain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you happen to find it, please contact me and I'll come pick it up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:)Christina&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-5987968648260868652?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/5987968648260868652/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=5987968648260868652' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/5987968648260868652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/5987968648260868652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/07/lost.html' title='Lost'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-8000468210984397903</id><published>2009-06-29T08:49:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-29T08:55:09.982-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Manners</title><content type='html'>7a.m. conversation between my 4yo and 19mo. daughters:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Baby Rae:  AAAAhhhCHooooo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S-O: Bless you Rae.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Baby Rae:  Thank you Sissy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S-O:  You're welcome Rae. I love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Baby Rae:  I lub you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-8000468210984397903?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/8000468210984397903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=8000468210984397903' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/8000468210984397903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/8000468210984397903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/06/manners.html' title='Manners'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-412932088845757812</id><published>2009-06-23T09:25:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-23T09:45:47.918-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Root Canal</title><content type='html'>Numbing needles.&lt;br /&gt;Tugging and pulling on a white capped tooth.&lt;br /&gt;Scraping sounds.&lt;br /&gt;Drilling down, into nerves and root.&lt;br /&gt;Suction. Squirt. Suction. Squirt.&lt;br /&gt;Tastes of copper pennies.&lt;br /&gt;Pushing pressure.&lt;br /&gt;Shape the mold.&lt;br /&gt;Next week will be the fitting.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-412932088845757812?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/412932088845757812/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=412932088845757812' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/412932088845757812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/412932088845757812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/06/root-canal.html' title='Root Canal'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-8240846419932919598</id><published>2009-06-15T08:26:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-15T08:30:17.862-05:00</updated><title type='text'>First Recital Gifts</title><content type='html'>Three mylar baloons, twizzlers, and a plaster fairy statue from Dollar Tree.......................$5.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fake crystal vase, bundle of hot pink baby roses and a plastic dinosaur from Walmart......................$7.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The look on my daughters face when I told her how proud I was of her dancing at recital.....................PRICELESS.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-8240846419932919598?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/8240846419932919598/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=8240846419932919598' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/8240846419932919598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/8240846419932919598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/06/first-recital-gifts.html' title='First Recital Gifts'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-3004840895684415641</id><published>2009-06-12T20:09:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-12T20:18:50.619-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I am, smellin like a rose</title><content type='html'>If I jammed out (alone) in my truck to STP (Stone Temple Pilots), Pearl Jam or The Beastie Boys...would that date me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't think so, but apparently the preteen (ok, so maybe she wasn't PRE) driving her Mom's Escalade who pulled up next to me at a stoplight today thought so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her weird facial expression and eye roll gave it away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It read, "What-ev-a! You're so 2000-late!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to that, I say, "Talk to tha hand, (insert eye roll and attitudy head roll), cuz this Girl ain't listenin'!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-3004840895684415641?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/3004840895684415641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=3004840895684415641' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/3004840895684415641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/3004840895684415641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-am-smellin-like-rose.html' title='I am, smellin like a rose'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-6135960173110746876</id><published>2009-06-02T09:02:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T09:32:13.807-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Awesomeness</title><content type='html'>My husband, in all of his awesomeness, surprised me last night with a new laptop. He knew I've been wanting one for a while now, and seeing that my big computer crashed yesterday morning, he saw it fit to take advantage of the opportunity and earn some major Love Cha-Ching (aka love bank points)!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In order to grasp the true awesomeness of this event...you must know a bit more about him. He's VERY frugal. He rarely shops and buys on the same day, especially for expensive items...those things usually take MONTHS before he makes a decision. It took us over 6 months to decide on our last vehicle purchase! Oh, and he HATES credit cards. Generally if we can't pay cash up front for something, we wait until we can or use a cc that earns hotel points and gets paid at the end of the month!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, when he surprised me with the laptop, I was floored. Not only for the value of the gift, but for the Love Cha-ching VALUE of the gift. He saw a desire/need in me and fulfilled that need without being asked. Cha-ching! Major love points.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It inspired me to think of ways I could do the same for him. Although my plan doesn't involve spending any cash money, I'm hoping my idea earns me some Love Cha-ching of my own! I'll let you know how it goes. ....or maybe not ;o)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-6135960173110746876?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/6135960173110746876/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=6135960173110746876' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/6135960173110746876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/6135960173110746876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/06/awesomeness.html' title='Awesomeness'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-1217867477327721670</id><published>2009-06-01T09:08:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-01T09:08:57.535-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>My computer is very ill. I&amp;#39;m taking her to the computer e.r. today. Please pray for her.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-1217867477327721670?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/1217867477327721670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=1217867477327721670' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/1217867477327721670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/1217867477327721670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-computer-is-very-ill.html' title=''/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-3795540742190597301</id><published>2009-05-22T20:52:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-22T21:01:44.123-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Excuse YOU?!?!</title><content type='html'>Yesterday, as the kids and I crossed the drug store parking lot, I clicked my truck alarm just to make sure it was set. The following conversation ensued:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;truck: HOOONK!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S-O: Excuse YOU, Truck?!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: What?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S-O: The Truck tooted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me (in my best Trucker voice): Excuse me, Little Maam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S-O: That's ok, Truck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-3795540742190597301?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/3795540742190597301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=3795540742190597301' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/3795540742190597301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/3795540742190597301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/05/excuse-you.html' title='Excuse YOU?!?!'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-3941708367468416321</id><published>2009-05-21T14:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-21T14:53:14.035-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Cherry Chap Stick</title><content type='html'>Dear Cherry Chap Stick,&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;br /&gt;:)Christina&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-3941708367468416321?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/3941708367468416321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=3941708367468416321' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/3941708367468416321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/3941708367468416321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/05/cherry-chap-stick.html' title='Cherry Chap Stick'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-5536027360195910088</id><published>2009-05-13T00:49:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-13T01:05:22.264-05:00</updated><title type='text'>"Dabin fass acoo dee poo My Cheese."</title><content type='html'>Night before last, I thought I heard my 4yo daughter cry out in the middle of the night. When I went to check on her she was sound sleep. I decided to lay down with her for a few minutes in case she was having a bad dream and woke up scared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I closed my eyes and began to drift off, I heard "Dabin fass acoo dee poo My Cheese," coming from my 17mo daughters room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was talking in her sleep. I wondered what she was dreaming about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward to bed time tonight. As I brushed her teeth, I saw 4, yes FOUR, molars at various stages of cuttage peeping through her gums.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I immediately realized what she said the other night in her sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was cussing in baby speak! I can't say I blame her.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-5536027360195910088?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/5536027360195910088/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=5536027360195910088' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/5536027360195910088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/5536027360195910088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/05/dabin-fass-acoo-dee-poo-my-cheese.html' title='&quot;Dabin fass acoo dee poo My Cheese.&quot;'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-7253035679251772659</id><published>2009-05-11T16:01:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-11T16:17:44.939-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;This year, our little family decided to honor all Mothers with a very special balloon release.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334675421309049922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SgiTCAciHEI/AAAAAAAAAHY/-DiqiEXWN54/s400/BL1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Red Balloon #1 represented Mothers of today. We honor their unconditional love and sacrifice.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My Mom, Rose, and John's Mom, Paula&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This balloon flew for them, myself, and all of YOU who are Mothers.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334675720021932066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 286px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SgiTTZPO-CI/AAAAAAAAAHg/rBbEc40jJLs/s400/BL2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Red Balloon #2 represented Mothers of tomorrow. They carry our hope in the future.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My daughters, S-O and Rae.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This balloon soared for them and our nieces, cousins, aunts, sisters, and friends, as well as YOURS who may become Mothers in the future.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334676363766784082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 286px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SgiT43X94FI/AAAAAAAAAHo/-79jdHPb9m4/s400/BL3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Red Balloon #3 represented Mothers who have passed away.We will ALWAYS love and remember them!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nine years ago, my Dad, lost his Mom, Olivia.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Four years ago, John's Dad, lost his Mom, Doris.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This balloon floated for them and YOUR beloved Mothers of the past.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334676606162448626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 286px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SgiUG-XmMPI/AAAAAAAAAHw/EFoYYVxBN7w/s400/BL4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;The pink balloon, attached to Red Balloon #3, represented Angel Babies who have touched many hearts without ever touching a hand...babies who Jesus held before their Mom's and Dad's could.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This balloon glided towards the heavens in honor of their memory.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334677704152259122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 286px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SgiVG4sxGjI/AAAAAAAAAH4/5ByUXLucBBQ/s400/BL5.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Mother's Day 2009!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-7253035679251772659?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/7253035679251772659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=7253035679251772659' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/7253035679251772659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/7253035679251772659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/05/this-year-our-little-family-decided-to.html' title=''/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SgiTCAciHEI/AAAAAAAAAHY/-DiqiEXWN54/s72-c/BL1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-8477364934519701237</id><published>2009-05-09T17:12:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-09T17:14:01.093-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Week END</title><content type='html'>I can't wait for this week to END. It has been one thing after another. I'm emotionally, physically and financially drained. Monday can't come fast enough. Did I really say that? Yes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-8477364934519701237?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/8477364934519701237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=8477364934519701237' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/8477364934519701237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/8477364934519701237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/05/week-end.html' title='Week END'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-5518764924197207760</id><published>2009-05-08T09:02:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-08T09:07:13.803-05:00</updated><title type='text'>You're so beautful.</title><content type='html'>J to S-O: S-O, you are SOOOO beautiful!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S-O to J: Thanks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;J to S-O: You get that from me, ya know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S-O to J (before I had a chance to say something smart):&lt;br /&gt;No, YOU get that from ME.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's MY girl!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-5518764924197207760?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/5518764924197207760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=5518764924197207760' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/5518764924197207760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/5518764924197207760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/05/youre-so-beautful.html' title='You&apos;re so beautful.'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-8751369396913539111</id><published>2009-05-07T14:48:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-07T15:13:47.487-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Stinkin' babies!</title><content type='html'>If you've been following &lt;a href="http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/04/wham-chickclick.html"&gt;The&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/05/skunk-sprayed.html"&gt;Skunk&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/05/she-had-babies.html"&gt;Saga &lt;/a&gt;of 2009, this will make much more sense to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, as I lay on the cold tile, ear pressed to the air duct vent listening to hungry whining baby skunks, I couldn't hold back the moisture in my eyes. John looked at me with the I'm-a-man-so-I'm-not-even-going-to-TRY-to-figure-you-out gaze and patted my shoulder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's going to be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;. We'll just wait until we don't hear the whining anymore, then we'll know."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Know. Know what? That we let living breathing creatures, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;albeit&lt;/span&gt; stinky, starve to death right before our ears?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was our fault they didn't have their &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Mamma&lt;/span&gt;. Although, in our defense, we didn't know she had babies in there when we had her trapped, carried off into the woods, and released back into the wild.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite the stress these little Stinkers have caused this week, I was NOT going to listen to them, literally, die of starvation. Besides once they die, we would have no way, other than the stink, of finding them under the crawl space tarp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, we had The Skunk Dude come out again. He &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;reluctantly&lt;/span&gt; went into the dark, moist, scary crawl space and heroically rescued the babies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333175702126484482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SgM_C3H-XAI/AAAAAAAAAHI/3g1xtHs5RGY/s400/2+Baby+Skunks.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;They will be donated to a local lady who rehabilitates injured or young wild animals and releases them back into their natural habitat.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333176105826700162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SgM_aXBmy4I/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5KMIOVVP2-4/s400/1+Baby+Skunk.jpg" border="0" /&gt;...as long as it's not OUR house!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-8751369396913539111?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/8751369396913539111/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=8751369396913539111' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/8751369396913539111'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/8751369396913539111'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/05/stinkin-babies.html' title='Stinkin&apos; babies!'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SgM_C3H-XAI/AAAAAAAAAHI/3g1xtHs5RGY/s72-c/2+Baby+Skunks.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-6942053694264906063</id><published>2009-05-06T13:03:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-06T14:50:52.965-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Raining and Pouring</title><content type='html'>My truck, yes the new one, started smoking as the girls and i were on the highway running errands. We are currently stranded waiting on the tow truck and a loaner from carmax. Fun times. When it rains it pours. The good news, the nearest safe place to pull over just so happened to be a fabric store. Oh darn, i better buy something since they are so nice to let us hang out here. :) PS. Seriously, it really DID rain and pour here today. Matter of fact the city just to the East of us had a tornado touch down!&lt;br /&gt;UPDATE: The dealership brought us a loaner and we are safe at home. My poor Expi is now on it's way to be checked out. I'm worried about her. At least she's still under warranty.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-6942053694264906063?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/6942053694264906063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=6942053694264906063' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/6942053694264906063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/6942053694264906063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/05/my-truck-yes-new-one-started-smoking-as.html' title='Raining and Pouring'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-1514820368858115555</id><published>2009-05-05T18:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T18:33:11.976-05:00</updated><title type='text'>SHE HAD BABIES!!!</title><content type='html'>UNDER OUR HOUSE!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Skunk Dude just confirmed, by going into the crawl space, that there are at least 2 maybe 3 skunk babies whining for their mamma in the area directly under our bedroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The saga continues....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-1514820368858115555?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/1514820368858115555/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=1514820368858115555' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/1514820368858115555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/1514820368858115555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/05/she-had-babies.html' title='SHE HAD BABIES!!!'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-5369862306273498471</id><published>2009-05-04T14:50:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-04T15:13:12.264-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Skunk Sprayed!!!</title><content type='html'>Imagine putting a rotten onion sprinkled with garlic in your oven and leaving it there for a few weeks to ferment. Then, after it's nice and stagnant with mold juices flowing, turn on the oven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THATS THE AROMA WAFTING THROUGH MY HOUSE AT THIS VERY MOMENT! Thanks to PePe Le Pew, the skunk that placed residence in the crawl space under our house about a week ago. Actually, she's been there longer, we just found out about her a week ago when our neighbor saw her squeeze into the 4in,x6in forklift holes under our AC unit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We hired some Skunk Dude to set up a few traps but she didn't take the bait due to bad rain in our area. Last night, John heard some action in the crawl space and looked outside to see PePe sneaking out for a midnight snack. He ran out there, covered up the access hole with wire mesh, and pushed the freshly bated traps up against the hole. Who knew skunks liked smoked Italian sausage. She fell for it within 20 minutes. She was pissed and ran circles in the cage, but she didn't spray.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;UNTIL....this morning when Skunk Dude came to pick her up. Not only did she spray, but she sprayed OUR AC UNIT!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been fighting tears all morning as I desperately try to rid my home of the poignant smell. I've scoured the internet looking for ways to battle the stench. AND, the AC hasn't even been on!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just sick over this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apple Cider Vinegar, baking soda, dish soap. Tomato juice, Febreeze, Lysol. Coffee grounds. These are a few of my new favorite things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was supposed to be spending the day setting up my new couponing blog! Not, fumigating my house. Urgh! This stinks. Really REALLY stinks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know, I know, there are lots of worse things to worry about than a skunk smelling up your house... and in the grand scheme of life..yada yada...this too shall pass. But, I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy. Then again, maybe I would. =;-l&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-5369862306273498471?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/5369862306273498471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=5369862306273498471' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/5369862306273498471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/5369862306273498471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/05/skunk-sprayed.html' title='The Skunk Sprayed!!!'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-8385509477036445552</id><published>2009-04-30T11:43:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-30T12:20:26.293-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hungry Hungry Hippo</title><content type='html'>What do you do when your child has eaten a bagel with cream cheese, a banana, a bowl of whole wheat goldfish, strawberries, 6 chicken nuggets, a handful of shredded cheese, some cantelope, and is STILL hungry before noon? Did I mention she's not quite 18 months old?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-8385509477036445552?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/8385509477036445552/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=8385509477036445552' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/8385509477036445552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/8385509477036445552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/04/what-do-you-do-when-your-child-has.html' title='Hungry Hungry Hippo'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-1341108355510131607</id><published>2009-04-29T17:17:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-29T17:17:45.872-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I&amp;#39;m cooking dinner and cell blogging at the same time. I wonder if i can Tweet on Twitter from here too. Hmmmm.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-1341108355510131607?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/1341108355510131607/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=1341108355510131607' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/1341108355510131607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/1341108355510131607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-cooking-dinner-and-cell-blogging-at.html' title=''/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-2717174981205460701</id><published>2009-04-27T21:15:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-27T21:22:08.191-05:00</updated><title type='text'>WHAM! CHickClick.</title><content type='html'>WHAM! A door slams shut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CHickClick. A door opens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAM! The door slams shut again.&lt;br /&gt;CHickClick. The door opens again.&lt;br /&gt;WHAM! CHickClick! WHAM! CHickClick! WHAM!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John: "GIRLS, stop slamming the door...you're gonna scare the skunk!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-2717174981205460701?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/2717174981205460701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=2717174981205460701' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/2717174981205460701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/2717174981205460701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/04/wham-chickclick.html' title='WHAM! CHickClick.'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-1662746458680863908</id><published>2009-04-24T22:13:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-24T22:50:55.351-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Quicky explanation of savings</title><content type='html'>Here's a quicky explanation of my savings:&lt;br /&gt;I used coupons out of 2 Sunday circulars and internet coupons. The internet coupons gave me trouble at the check out counter so I doubt I'll be messing with those again. Both stores took the coupons but said they weren't supposed to. Whatever. I shopped over a 3 day period, but could have done it all at once. Like I said before, I'm learning, so as I researched and found out about certain deals I had to make subsequent trips. Next week will be different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since this was my first time to do this, I had to spend some cash up front. But over time, as I accumulate Extra Bucks (which spend like cash towards your subtotal), I'll be able to walk in every week and spent LITERALLY pennies like some of the better Couponers do!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've attached a spreadsheet with details of my transactions from the receipts. Although I swear I saved over $186, my receipts said I saved $162.48. Hmmm. Not sure about that. *&lt;strong&gt;EDIT* &lt;/strong&gt;I couldn't figure out how to attach a spreadsheet to a blog post. Anybody know how to do this? If you're desperately interested in seeing it before I figure out how to link it up, shoot me an email or comment and I'll email you the spreadsheet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.couponmom.com/"&gt;http://www.couponmom.com/&lt;/a&gt; really helped let me know where to find my coupons! I'm doing the hanging file method, sort of. Each week I'll pull the Sunday circular and write the date in bold print on the front and file it in the monthly folder. I'll use the Grocery Deals by State section of the couponmom site, search for the store I plan on shopping, and check out their deals. The chart that pulls up will tell you, in code, where to find the coupon (which circular by date),coupon value, sale price, final price and % saved. So I don't have to spend my entire Sunday cutting, organizing and trying to match up what's on sale where. It's all done for you in the charts. All I have to do is mark the deals I want and it prints the detail sheet. I take the sheet and pull/clip ONLY THE COUPONS I NEED for that shopping trip according to what's on sale where.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If it seems confusing, the instructions on how to understand the chart are in the Grocery Deals by State section. I'm telling you, this section has it all and makes it so easy to clip coupons!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eventually, I'm going to attempt Coupon Mom's "Cut your grocery bill in half" method. We shall see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope this helps. Comment if you have questions or you'd like me to send you some MONEY SAVING VIBE DUST!!! Now go, shop. Find your FREE stuff!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-1662746458680863908?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/1662746458680863908/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=1662746458680863908' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/1662746458680863908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/1662746458680863908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/04/quicky-explanation-of-savings.html' title='Quicky explanation of savings'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-2611527541291458108</id><published>2009-04-24T07:59:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-24T08:58:34.837-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm learning</title><content type='html'>If you add this to &lt;a href="http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/04/guess-how-much.html"&gt;Tuesday's&lt;/a&gt; shopping ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328250274832549362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SfG_ZQnFhfI/AAAAAAAAAGw/u31UjdIZFZU/s400/April23savings.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I bought $185.43 worth of goodies for......................&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;a whopping &lt;strong&gt;$30.92!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I've got a super busy day/weekend ahead, but if I have time, I'll update with the specifics on what coupons were used.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;This is the first time I've EVER bought anything from CVS! I'm hooked.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I missed out on a few good deals because I didn't have the old Sunday circular coupons. But I've learned my lesson...I'll never throw away a coupon again (unless it's expired)!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I learned about shopping with coupons from &lt;a href="http://www.couponmom.com/"&gt;http://www.couponmom.com/&lt;/a&gt;. I find out about CVS deals at &lt;a href="http://www.iheartcvs.com/"&gt;http://www.iheartcvs.com/&lt;/a&gt;. Everything I bought is legit and on the up and up. I only have one CVS card and I receive coupons from them via email. Although, my CVS gave me flack about using the Internet coupons. They took them THIS time, but I think the savings still would have been great without them.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I also enjoy the money saving tips on &lt;a href="http://www.moneysavingdivas.com/"&gt;http://www.moneysavingdivas.com/&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://www.jane4girls800dollarannualbudget.com/"&gt;http://www.jane4girls800dollarannualbudget.com/&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Couponing isn't for everyone. But the way I see it, if this SAHM thing is my J.O.B., I may as well do everything I can to increase my 'salary.' KWIM?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-2611527541291458108?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/2611527541291458108/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=2611527541291458108' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/2611527541291458108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/2611527541291458108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/04/im-learning.html' title='I&apos;m learning'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SfG_ZQnFhfI/AAAAAAAAAGw/u31UjdIZFZU/s72-c/April23savings.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-1967692605373102322</id><published>2009-04-22T16:27:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-24T08:34:08.784-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Guess how much...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SfG_yxpS8WI/AAAAAAAAAG4/UPaUpCP1-O8/s1600-h/April22savings.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328250713196917090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SfG_yxpS8WI/AAAAAAAAAG4/UPaUpCP1-O8/s400/April22savings.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;...all of these goodies cost me?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/Se-Mp-6tqCI/AAAAAAAAAGo/95ob13VbUbs/s1600-h/April22savings.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hint #1 Everything was on sale AND had a coupon.&lt;br /&gt;Hint #2 Everything was bought at CVS.&lt;br /&gt;Hint #3 The total regular price value...$96.24&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So how much do you think I paid? Stay tuned and tomorrow I'll reveal the total and a detailed explaination of the savings. P.S. yes, it's all legal and nothing was stolen. hehehehe :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-1967692605373102322?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/1967692605373102322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=1967692605373102322' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/1967692605373102322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/1967692605373102322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/04/guess-how-much.html' title='Guess how much...'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SfG_yxpS8WI/AAAAAAAAAG4/UPaUpCP1-O8/s72-c/April22savings.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-1836944803113360405</id><published>2009-04-20T10:04:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-20T12:44:20.783-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Unworthy</title><content type='html'>This weekend, we went to TN to visit family. After loading up the truck with DVD player, toys, kids and suitcases (and going back in about 5 times for items we forgot) we were ready to hit the road.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Where's the map quest I printed out and put on your purse so we wouldn't forget it?," John said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oops. I must have left it inside. I was NOT opening the garage door, unlocking the house, turning off the alarm, turning on the alarm, and closing the garage door for a 6th time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Besides, it would be a great opportunity to try out the navigation feature on the new (to us) SUV.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First step: program in a home address.&lt;br /&gt;Second step: make sure the correct regional navigation CD was loaded&lt;br /&gt;Third step: program in a destination address.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seems easy enough. So we get on the road and follow HER directions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(in a soft feminine voice) "Proceed on HWY123 for 6.2miles. Be prepared to turn left onto HWY 456"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nice. We drive for 6.2 miles then turn left. Great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(soft voice again) "Proceed on HWY456 for 10.8 miles. Prepare to merge onto HWY 789.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although we were sans the map quest printout, we've driven this route before and know we shouldn't take HWY 789. So we continue straight and planned to hit HWY101. We pass the exit. HER exit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(soft voice turns a bit louder and harsher) "You have chosen a path that is not recognized by this system. Please make a legal u-turn and proceed on the designated path."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hit the 'ignore this route' button to shut HER up. A few 100 yards farther, the screen goes blank. Is it broken? Did we mess up the 'path' thus lose the information that had been stored? Will we have to program it again? Darn HER if she ruins our time table by forcing us to stop for directions. I should have just went inside and gotten the map quest directions when I had the chance. Why was I so lazy? I'll never use this stupid navigation system again!!!SHE doesn't know where we're at now. We're lost!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, as if nothing had happened, she says, "Proceed on HWY 101 for 37.5 mi."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The system had reconfigured the path to our destination based on the choice we made to ignore the last route. Cool. No information was lost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We drove on and followed her directions for about two hours. Then, we saw a familiar exit. John seemed to recall taking that road before as a short cut. Only, SHE didn't acknowledge the cut through. We called his parents, who were planning to meet up with us, and his Dad advised us to take the short cut...not knowing we had the navigation telling us differently. John, confused and not wanting to make a wrong decision, pulled over and asked for directions from a hairy, smelly, dude at a gas station. The dude confirmed HER directions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John chuckled and said, "We should have listened to HER, she knows where we're going and where we've been."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SHE knew where we were going and where we had been. SHE knew the correct path for us. And when we doubted, questioned and even detoured the road to our destination, she reprogrammed and gracefully continued to guide us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sound familiar?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so humbled by the grace God has given my family. I'm on my knees confessing for doubting HIS ability to make my path straight. I am in AWE and wonder at how HE can aline the stars and direct my life when I make decisions or have moments that cloud up my future. HE has NEVER failed to open my eyes and shine light on HIS path...even when I can't understand or find reason for HIS direction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HE gathers up the fruit of my worry, fear and anxiety about the future. Then HE squeezes it like a juicer and serves it's nectar in a crystal glass on a silver platter, saying, "Take. Drink. This is my blood." HE gathers up the messes I've made and the mistakes that linger, and bakes them into a luscious apple pie that is The Word and says, "Take. Eat. This is my body." HE soaps up my hands with the Dawn of Resurrection and guides me to The Water that cleanses my soul of imperfection. HE cloaks me with the fabrics of his spirit and protects every footprint my sandals dig.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently, our family was faced with some major financial decisions, and we were feeling uncertain about which path to take. As always, God provided for our needs in ways we never could have expected, and he made it VERY clear as to which direction we should take...HIS direction. He always gives us just enough, according to HIS standard. For that, I am grateful and extremely humbled at the blessings he sees fit for our family. I can't help but feel unworthy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-1836944803113360405?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/1836944803113360405/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=1836944803113360405' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/1836944803113360405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/1836944803113360405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/04/unworthy.html' title='Unworthy'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-8994325394528373574</id><published>2009-04-20T07:57:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-20T07:57:56.732-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>How super cool and techno savy am I? I&amp;#39;m texting in a post from my cell phone! I&amp;#39;d say thats pretty freakin cool of me, wouldn&amp;#39;t you?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-8994325394528373574?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/8994325394528373574/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=8994325394528373574' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/8994325394528373574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/8994325394528373574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/04/how-super-cool-and-techno-savy-am-i-i.html' title=''/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-7901998033045933405</id><published>2009-04-14T14:54:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T15:32:56.670-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ode to Chips</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Maybe it's your salty shell and the ripples on your back,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Or maybe it's your crunchiness that causes his attack.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Could it be your flavored sprinkles of onion, cheese and ranch,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Or might it be the aftertaste that puts him in a trance.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Maybe it's your half filled bag that makes him feel like King,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Holding you so tightly with one palm makes freedom ring.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It may just be a midlife thing like fast cars, trucks, or boats,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;But mine is ever satisfied with you and the remote.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;He begs me to go shopping when you go 10 for $10,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;And every sale we come across makes him want to holler.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;"We can never have to many !" his voice trailing our driveway,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;As I speed off to the grocer, I'd buy zero if it was my way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;But for him I'll load the basket with Ruffles, Lays and Pringles,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Because I know it fills his love bank and gives him heart tingles.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-7901998033045933405?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/7901998033045933405/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=7901998033045933405' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/7901998033045933405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/7901998033045933405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/04/ode-to-chips.html' title='Ode to Chips'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-1883701019955215752</id><published>2009-03-31T07:22:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-31T07:44:43.849-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Pass the Ketchup PART 2</title><content type='html'>...because I need it for the words I'm eating. I thought I was full after &lt;a href="http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2008/12/pass-ketschup.html"&gt;Part 1&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'll never ______ while going to the bathroom" (insert a multitasking event such as 'hold a crying baby', 'talk on the phone', 'brush my teeth', 'eat a sandwich', 'put on makeup', 'flat iron my hair' etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"My baby will be potty trained by 18months"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I nursed my children, so they have built up immunities and won't get sick as much as &lt;em&gt;other&lt;/em&gt; kids."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I won't put MY kids in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;MMO&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;MDO&lt;/span&gt;, or any other form of childcare...I want to spend every waking minute &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;nourishing&lt;/span&gt; their minds with my love and attention."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Home made clothes is for people who can't afford to buy at stores."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Who cares if Target is more expensive...I'll never shop at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Walmart&lt;/span&gt; again!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-1883701019955215752?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/1883701019955215752/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=1883701019955215752' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/1883701019955215752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/1883701019955215752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/03/pass-ketchup-part-2.html' title='Pass the Ketchup PART 2'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-1814154692185622462</id><published>2009-03-27T07:25:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-27T08:24:21.807-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The FABULOUS Jones!</title><content type='html'>When we lived in Houston, I had the pleasure of knowing &lt;a href="http://www.thejonesfamily-rebecca.blogspot.com/"&gt;The Jones&lt;/a&gt;, Rebecca and Chris, through our church. When I first met them, they had just moved to Houston for Chris' job and Rebecca had become a SAHM to their son Cameron. Chris and Rebecca immediately got involved with Life Group at church and soon after jumped at the chance to help out with the children's ministry. Their servant hearts and willingness to help others make them both very FABULOUS!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rebecca always has a smile on her face and a skip in her step. She's eager to make friends and keeps them once their hers. Her super &lt;a href="http://www.see-my-machine-go.blogspot.com/"&gt;craftiness&lt;/a&gt; is astonishing! From her tie dye shirts and baby quilts to embroidered baskets and polo shirts, her love for all things creative is matched only by her intense love for her family. She's got a hilarious personality that infects those around her. You only have to hang out with her for a few minutes before she'll have you rolling about something funny or ironic that her kids have done. She claims to have struggled fitting into her role as a SAHM, but to see her in action makes you think motherhood and taking care of children is what she was born to do. Rebecca is a leader and a planner, especially when it comes to helping others. She has dreams about food, has walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty and read an entire book in one day. Those are just a few of the things I love about Rebecca and that make her FABULOUS!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chris also always has a smile on his face. He's often seen cutting up with the guys or playing around with the kids, making everybody laugh. Although I've spent more time with Rebecca than Chris, he definitely left an impression on me in that time. When I, one of the preschool bible class coordinators at the time, was in desperate need of teachers one quarter and had asked every known mother, grandmother, teenager etc in the church and nobody was available, Chris and &lt;a href="http://www.thewims.blogspot.com/"&gt;Brad&lt;/a&gt; volunteered...VOLUNTEERED...to co-teach the older 4yo class. They volunteered again, again, and again. For that, Chris Jones, I, and the other coordinators, loved you and I think YOU ARE FABULOUS!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked Rebecca to share a few more FABULOUS things about Chris. Here's what she had to say:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Chris is unwavering in his priorities in life, even when others may challenge him. He knows that God is always first, then family, friends, and work is last. Too often people in this world get that confused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He has worked so hard to make it easy for me to stay at home, even though that wasn't our original plan in the grand scheme of things. We have both had to give up some stuff, but we've gained some awesome kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been amazed at his devotion and love for his friends. I've seen him drop everything to help a friend in need or just cause (especially if that means he gets to play a sport or game of some sort). It is something he's consistently done since college.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He has a great patience with our children, which I do not always have. I think some of it comes because he can be a kid again with the kids. Playing ball, Star Wars, and all those things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We now have beautiful laminate wood floors where there was once carpet in our house, which Chris installed himself. In between installing the floor, he built a really cool Lego table for Cameron. He is always getting creative and building nifty stuff for us - bookshelf, night stands, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He gets stuff out of the attic for me, off the top of the fridge, and most importantly my Christmas dishes down from the top shelf of the cabinets. I know that sounds silly, but that height difference puts me at a disadvantage that I just can't get that stuff easily. It's so nice to have someone around to reach those things for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chris knows how much I miss some aspects of my life that I gave up for various reasons. Things like theatre and art. He tries to find ways to bring those back to my life. Like taking me to the theatre to see shows and to the art museum to see new exhibits. Even if I can't do the things I love myself, I can enjoy them other ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So when I married Chris, I married his family. I know that's sort of a cliche, but it's entirely true. Not only did Chris accept me and love me, his family has done the same. It's really interesting to see the dynamics of the Jones clan at work. They are loud, boisterous, and unapologetic about who they are. I've learned so much from all of them, and so much about myself. I am who I am because of my family and because of Chris' family. It's nice to have such a large group to love."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you Jones', for being so FABULOUS!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I JUST LOVE LOVE LOVE YOU!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-1814154692185622462?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/1814154692185622462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=1814154692185622462' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/1814154692185622462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/1814154692185622462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/03/fabulous-jones.html' title='The FABULOUS Jones!'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-1560278697080982963</id><published>2009-03-23T11:28:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T11:55:15.185-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello and Goodbye.</title><content type='html'>Well, Hello there little fella. What are you doing all by yourself way up there? You look lost. You SO obviously do not belong with the others here? What happened to you? You must have fallen into bleach, or peroxide, or white paint. You should be MUCH darker. You shouldn't be glistening in the sunlight, waving around, with pride, a banner that reads "AGE" in bold print. You shouldn't be right on top, in front of everyone else, screaming at me with your tiny bullhorn, "Look at me. You are old. I'm HERE for you." You must have mistaken me for someone my senior, MUCH my senior. Because &lt;strong&gt;I&lt;/strong&gt; DO NOT have gray hair! You. Don't. Belong. Here. Goodbye. and Good &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Riddens&lt;/span&gt;....pluck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-1560278697080982963?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/1560278697080982963/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=1560278697080982963' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/1560278697080982963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/1560278697080982963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/03/hello-and-goodbye.html' title='Hello and Goodbye.'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-1640462423647912340</id><published>2009-03-20T11:19:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-20T12:02:26.405-05:00</updated><title type='text'>HE'S HERE. HE'S HERE. HE'S HERE!</title><content type='html'>The mailman. Little did he, a virtual stranger, know the utter joy and happiness he was bringing to my life on this day. This fine, cool, crisp, BEAUTIFUL day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although I, personally, have not met him, I just want to take a minute to say, Mr. Postman, thank you. Thank you for all that you do. Thank you for your dedication to opening (and sometimes) closing my mailbox on a daily basis. Thank you for so graciously exiting the warmth of your atypical mail car, the one that looks like a regular SUV except for the flip flopped driver/passenger seats and the little flashing light on it's hood, to HAND deliver an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;oversized&lt;/span&gt; package to my stoop steps. Your gentleness and careful placement of the taped up cube of cardboard is unmatched. Thank you for honoring the "Please Do NOT Ring the Bell, Baby Sleeping" sign on our door trim. Although, on this day, at this time, even with an actual baby sleeping in her crib, it would have been &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt; to ring my bell. You see, I've been waiting for you. Not for you, specifically, but for the gifts you bring. Although technically, not a gift per definition, today's delivery....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart is beating out of it's cave. All the blood in my body floats anxiously behind my eyes as the strips of sticky tape fly off the box. Flap one, open. Flap two, open. I felt like Charlie on Willy &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Wonka's&lt;/span&gt; Chocolate factory, about to win the golden ticket.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(&lt;em&gt;Insert angelic music with trumpets and flutes pitched high)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315314174406526898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/ScPKFHMZh7I/AAAAAAAAAF4/5OH1v-qLCik/s320/fabric+sampler1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Here's a small sample of the luscious fabrics I recently &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;acquired&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;What shall become of them you ask? Dresses? Ruffled Pants? A-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;line&lt;/span&gt; dresses with bloomers? Baby gifts? Applique tee's with matching flip skirts? Curtains? Throw Pillows? Yes. Yes. and Yes.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-1640462423647912340?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/1640462423647912340/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=1640462423647912340' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/1640462423647912340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/1640462423647912340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/03/hes-here-hes-here-hes-here.html' title='HE&apos;S HERE. HE&apos;S HERE. HE&apos;S HERE!'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/ScPKFHMZh7I/AAAAAAAAAF4/5OH1v-qLCik/s72-c/fabric+sampler1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-3532499109777396229</id><published>2009-03-19T12:47:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T13:05:47.186-05:00</updated><title type='text'>DoUH!</title><content type='html'>I got caught today. That didn't take long. I tried to play dumb, waiting to see if he REALLY knew. He did. What, does he have a PI? How did he find out so quickly?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I confessed. Sort of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It felt good to get it off my chest. Although, I don't regret doing &lt;a href="http://http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-gave-in-to-my-desires.html"&gt;IT&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't take it back. All sales final, unless he's willing to pay a restocking fee, which he's not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Darn Dave Ramsey and your stupid CASH ONLY LIFESTYLE rules! Darn you and your little envelopes. Darn the ccard company that has an online notification system, of which I was ney privy to, that *&lt;em&gt;DINGS*&lt;/em&gt; DH's email EVERY. FREAKIN. TIME. THERE'S A PURCHASE!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~&lt;em&gt;Hark, there's a knock at the door. Could &lt;a href="http://http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-gave-in-to-my-desires.html"&gt;it&lt;/a&gt; be here already? Pitter Patter, Flutter Flatter goes my heart.&lt;/em&gt;~~~&lt;br /&gt;Nope, it was just the stinkin' exterminator dude checking for termites.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I apologized, shed a tear, and promised never to adulter-ize my budget again. Yada, yada, yada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good thing only two of the yummy fabric orders went through today. Tomorrow is another day. I'll deal with that then.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-3532499109777396229?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/3532499109777396229/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=3532499109777396229' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/3532499109777396229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/3532499109777396229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/03/douh.html' title='DoUH!'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-7156544779710482376</id><published>2009-03-17T16:51:00.016-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-18T00:30:08.134-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I gave in to my desires!</title><content type='html'>Today, I gave in. I couldn't hold back. The burning desire in my heart made my mind and body disconnect. My fingertips tingled as they danced over the keys that unlocked a window to the forbidden fruit. Everything in my soul screamed, "NO, don't do it. He'll never forgive you!" But my hand slapped the guilt right off my face and typed away. The quantities rose, ENTER was pressed. There's no turning back once you start the process. One note of confirmation, a nod that says yes. Again and again. yes. Yes. YES!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21 yards of suculant woven threads cut to measure just for me. ALL FOR ME!!!. Colors of Expresso, Lime, and Tempered Pink. Prints referenced Lacework, Full Moon, and Wall Flower. Fresh Poppies, Deco, and Polka, the list goes on and on. Amy Butler, &lt;a href="http://www.michaelmillerfabrics.com/"&gt;Micheal Miller&lt;/a&gt;, and &lt;a href="http://www.benartex.com/"&gt;Kitty&lt;/a&gt;, just the sound of their names causes giddy. The sins continued throughout the day, over and over again, finally resting with patterns of Tops with Bloomers and even a little &lt;a href="http://www.sandihendersondesign.com/"&gt;Portabellopixie&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not ashamed of my love affair with fabric.&lt;br /&gt;I don't deny the financial betrayal.&lt;br /&gt;But, sometimes, it's better to ask for forgiveness than permission.&lt;br /&gt;Besides, the ccard is paid with fruits of my labor, some of which are soon to be on &lt;a href="http://www.sorae.etsy.com/"&gt;Etsy&lt;/a&gt;. Maybe. If I'm willing to part with my forbidden apples.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until then, my dearest &lt;a href="http://www.littlecherubsheirloom.com/"&gt;ménage&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.fernridgefabrics.etsy.com/"&gt;à&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.quiltartsonline.com/"&gt;trois&lt;/a&gt; of fabric stores, just know this, as I lay in his arms tonight, I'll be thinking of YOU!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oops, gotta go, the hubby's home...must hide receipts. Minimize screens. He'll never know. SHHHhhhhh! It's our little secret. XOXOXO&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-7156544779710482376?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/7156544779710482376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=7156544779710482376' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/7156544779710482376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/7156544779710482376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-gave-in-to-my-desires.html' title='I gave in to my desires!'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-6113785290936753130</id><published>2009-03-09T13:02:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-10T11:17:46.858-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Honoring Life</title><content type='html'>In honor of the life and with respect for the struggles that my friends, &lt;a href="http://thewims.blogspot.com/"&gt;The Wims&lt;/a&gt;, faced over the past few years, I made an announcement on my photography blog today that I thought was important enough to post here too:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am offering FREE Family Portrait Sessions to individuals diagnosed with, or who are Survivors of, Cancer. The session includes one photo shoot either on location, in their home or in my home studio. The family will also receive a custom package of their favorite prints.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this time, I'm only able to provide these services to families in the Huntsville, AL area and LIMITEDLY to the Houston, TX area, but in time I hope to be able to expand my availability. For more information, please email me at &lt;a href="mailto:christina@christinajphotography.com"&gt;christina@christinajphotography.com&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-6113785290936753130?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/6113785290936753130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=6113785290936753130' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/6113785290936753130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/6113785290936753130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/03/free-family-portraits.html' title='Honoring Life'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-2228154854634422905</id><published>2009-03-05T15:11:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-05T15:19:52.726-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SbBBdvBkWUI/AAAAAAAAAFw/3nMlDdtoTNo/s1600-h/blog+header+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309815939764869442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SbBBdvBkWUI/AAAAAAAAAFw/3nMlDdtoTNo/s320/blog+header+copy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Brad and Jenny are clients and dear friends of mine from Houston.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This letter was drafted as a means to give back to &lt;a href="http://thewims.blogspot.com/"&gt;the family &lt;/a&gt;of a man who left an incredible footprint on the hearts of many. We will miss you Brad!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Family and Friends,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brad Wims courageously fought the battle against the cancer that caused such pain and damage in his body for over two years. Each day was a victory and a blessing of grace for we are never promised tomorrow. Even as the doctors’ prognosis was grim, Brad persevered with God as his strength. He was an incredible example of faithfulness and trust in God even in the most trying of circumstances. Many people have expressed a desire to help ease the situation for Jenny, Zeke and Kaelyn. We find ourselves asking, “What more can I do in addition to prayer?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although many would think that Brad’s primary burden was his physical health, those that know him well say that more than anything else, his main concern centered on his wife and children. Brad felt responsible for the provision of their financial, spiritual and emotional needs. Since Brad faced an uncertain future, the financial strain weighed heavy on his mind. Because of this, we have decided to set up a fund to collect donations from anyone who would like to make sure his family is taken care of regardless of their situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our goal is to raise $120,000 to be used toward this effort. This would allow Jenny to pay off the mortgage of their house and provide much needed income during this difficult time. The elders of the A&amp;amp;M Church of Christ in College Station and the Southeast Church of Christ in Friendswood (Brad and Jenny’s home church) are graciously providing direction, encouragement and the necessary arrangements to make the collection for these funds convenient. Because of the blessings God showers down upon all of us, we believe this is an attainable goal. We invite you to reflect on the abundant blessings you have received from God and join others in the grace of giving to this much needed cause.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are two ways to donate:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Send a check to either of the churches listed below. Please write “Wims Family” on the memo line to designate your funds and help with bookkeeping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A&amp;amp;M Church of Christ&lt;br /&gt;2475 Earl Rudder Frwy. S.&lt;br /&gt;College Station, TX 77845&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Southeast Church of Christ&lt;br /&gt;2400 W. Bay Area Blvd.&lt;br /&gt;Friendswood, TX 77546&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. You can pay online through the &lt;a href="http://www.go2southeast.com/"&gt;Southeast Church of Christ &lt;/a&gt;website. Select the Online Giving tab. Complete the information to create a login. Select Contribution–Special Fund in the Give To field, indicate the amount of your gift, type in “Wims Family” in the Optional Memo field, and press the Add button. You will be prompted to press the Give button. You will advance to the payment information screen where you will need to complete the information to give through Visa, MasterCard, or ACH (electronic check).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please share this letter with anyone else you know who would want to be a part of this special project. Ten dollars, one hundred dollars, one thousand dollars, or a penny a week...whatever you can give, know that it will bring relief in a time when it matters so much!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Much love and excitement for how God will change us all through this project,&lt;br /&gt;Friends and Family of Faith&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Paige (Davidson) Robinson&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Aggies for Christ Assistant&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For further information, contact the A&amp;amp;M Church of Christ office: (979) 693-0400 or email amcofc@gmail.com. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-2228154854634422905?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/2228154854634422905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=2228154854634422905' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/2228154854634422905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/2228154854634422905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/03/brad-and-jenny-are-clients-and-dear.html' title=''/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SbBBdvBkWUI/AAAAAAAAAFw/3nMlDdtoTNo/s72-c/blog+header+copy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-1092291786175151004</id><published>2009-03-02T22:30:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-03T22:42:53.353-06:00</updated><title type='text'>:(...</title><content type='html'>S-O: Mommy, why are you crying?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: I'm crying because &lt;a href="http://www.thewims.blogspot.com/"&gt;Mr. Brad&lt;/a&gt; went to heaven today to be with Jesus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S-O: But Mommy, don't cry. Jesus isn't crying. He's happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: You're right, Jesus IS happy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-1092291786175151004?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/1092291786175151004/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=1092291786175151004' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/1092291786175151004'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/1092291786175151004'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/03/blog-post.html' title=':(...'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-2857171549858401405</id><published>2009-02-27T08:27:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-27T08:33:45.861-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Playing at The White House</title><content type='html'>S-O: Mommy, where does Barak Obama live?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: The White House. You know, he has two little girls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S-O: What are the little girls names?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: Sasha and Melia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S-O: I want to go to the White House and play with Sasha and Melia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: Ok, let me see what I can do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, anybody know how I might go about setting up a playdate with the President of the United States children? (doesn't hurt to ask)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-2857171549858401405?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/2857171549858401405/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=2857171549858401405' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/2857171549858401405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/2857171549858401405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/02/playing-at-white-house.html' title='Playing at The White House'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-4997526560653923103</id><published>2009-02-19T20:49:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-19T20:56:26.509-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Strong-Willed Child Cliff Notes</title><content type='html'>A friend of mine recently posted this as her status on Face Book:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;____ is looking for the Cliff notes for "Parenting the Strong-Willed Child". I need help NOW!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My comment:&lt;br /&gt;I read that book. Here's my solution: give the SWChild some M&amp;amp;M's, turn on Noggin/DisneyChannel/aDVD movie, pour yourself a glass of wine, go to your bedroom, shut the door, go into your bathroom, shut the door, go into your closet, shut the door, drink the wine and breath....cuz you're screwed. No book will help you. Welcome to the club.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I SOOOOO should write my OWN book. It would be titled&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Strong-Willed Mommy&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;...&lt;em&gt;how having children gave my Mom sweet REVENGE.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-4997526560653923103?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/4997526560653923103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=4997526560653923103' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/4997526560653923103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/4997526560653923103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/02/strong-willed-child-cliftnotes.html' title='The Strong-Willed Child Cliff Notes'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-7717676435405264306</id><published>2009-02-19T08:44:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-18T00:34:19.665-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Can I getta Woot Woo!?!</title><content type='html'>Why YES, I can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I went out for a MUCH needed GNO with some of my friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During dinner, I made a solo visit to the ladies room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anxious to get back to my table of quirky friends I quickly cut through the bar section of the restaurant and then... it happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Woot Woo!, Darn girl, you fine!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;So, can a girl in her thirties&lt;/strong&gt; (ok, a Mama of two, not so much girl but &lt;em&gt;low&lt;/em&gt; thirties) &lt;strong&gt;out on the town&lt;/strong&gt;(ok, so we weren't 'out-on-the-town', we were just at a local steak house) &lt;strong&gt;still &lt;/strong&gt;(still? as though I have to ask) &lt;strong&gt;turn heads &lt;/strong&gt;(ok, so maybe he didn't say the 'darn girl you fine' part, but the 'Woot woo' really DID happen)&lt;strong&gt;?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I. THINK. SO.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-7717676435405264306?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/7717676435405264306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=7717676435405264306' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/7717676435405264306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/7717676435405264306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/02/can-i-getta-woot-woo.html' title='Can I getta Woot Woo!?!'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-817418908796806464</id><published>2009-02-05T09:17:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T09:20:12.421-06:00</updated><title type='text'>2 AM REDEMPTION.</title><content type='html'>Last night, as S-O snuck into bed with John and I at 2 a.m., she snuggled up close and hugged my neck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mommy, I love you. You smell good."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's been redeemed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-817418908796806464?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/817418908796806464/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=817418908796806464' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/817418908796806464'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/817418908796806464'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/02/2-am-redemption.html' title='2 AM REDEMPTION.'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-1596635839168374245</id><published>2009-02-02T11:52:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-02T12:01:40.471-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Ewwwww, GROSS!</title><content type='html'>Watching American Idol has become a family ritual in our household. S-O especially loves watching all the "silly goose" singers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In one of last weeks episodes, they showed an AI wannabe in line waiting for his audition. He was a rather large fellow who thought it funny to lift his shirt and show his Man Breasts and hairy chest to all of America while sticking out his bright pink Gene Simmons tongue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shrieked, "Ewwww, Gross!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S-O must have made a mental note of that moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two days later, she walked into my bedroom while I was changing out of my pj's. I had just lifted my shirt over my head (and might I note, NOT sticking out my tongue) when she shrieked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ewwwwww, GROSS!!!!!!!" and ran out of the room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How's that for motivation to join a gym.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-1596635839168374245?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/1596635839168374245/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=1596635839168374245' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/1596635839168374245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/1596635839168374245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/02/ewwwww-gross.html' title='Ewwwww, GROSS!'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-6723054655013881284</id><published>2009-02-02T10:06:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-02T10:26:48.947-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A word of advice. Hypothetically.</title><content type='html'>If, &lt;strong&gt;HYPOTHETICALLY&lt;/strong&gt;, you had an illness that was cured with a &lt;strong&gt;VERY PAINFUL&lt;/strong&gt; dose of penicillin in your &lt;strong&gt;RIGHT buttock cheek&lt;/strong&gt;, and your husband happened to return from a week long business trip the same day said illness was cured, and despite your craving desire to make out with your husband you waited the advised 48hours to lock lips with him so he would not contract said illness, and once the probationary period was over and you did give in to your lustful desires to the point that your mind was no longer on rational thinking.........&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;DO NOT...I REPEAT...DO NOT...NO WAY NO HOW...FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS HOLY AND CHOCOLATE....PLEASE HEED MY WARNING AND DO NOT....DON'T...CAUTION...BEWARE....DO NOT...&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Do not&lt;/strong&gt;...lean to the side, &lt;strong&gt;RIGHT butt cheek in the air&lt;/strong&gt;, and say (even jokingly, please I warn you) to your husband, "I've been a bad girl, I need a &lt;strong&gt;spanking&lt;/strong&gt;."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-6723054655013881284?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/6723054655013881284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=6723054655013881284' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/6723054655013881284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/6723054655013881284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/02/word-of-advice-hypothetically.html' title='A word of advice. Hypothetically.'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-1519721095984806834</id><published>2009-01-24T17:45:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-28T00:04:35.693-06:00</updated><title type='text'>25 interesting things about me</title><content type='html'>Someone sent me this on facebook and I thought this was a more appropriate place to post my list since less people will see it here than on fb. These are in no particular order&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. My husband and I started "officially" dating on 9/11/01.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. The "O" in S-O's name is my late grandmothers name. I think about her every day and wish I had spent more time with her as an adult.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. One of the best gifts my husband has EVER given me is a heated blanket. He knows how much I HATE being cold and thought about buying me one for several months until he found the right one. He brought it home on a random Tuesday night. There's more to the story, but that's all you need to know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. I am not as confident as I seem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. I weigh about 25lbs more than I'd like to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. My nose is really big and I've felt that way since I was 12years old and a boy (who shall remain nameless) dumped me because of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. I used to be a REALLY bitchy person with few "true" friends.  Now, I'm just occasionally bitchy, have lots of friends, and even have a few "true" ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. I wear my socks inside out because I don't like to feel sock lint on my toes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. I'm the messiest person with undiagnosed OCD that I've ever met.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10.  I'm a germaphobe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11.  Flying, or planning trips that involve flying, gives me anxiety attacks (see #10)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12.  I'm always late, which makes me anxious, which drives my kids and husband crazy everytime we are getting ready to go somewhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. I have a dry, and sometimes twisted, sense of humor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. There are few people who truely "get" me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15.  I internalize other people's problems to the point that I try and solve them just to give my mind a rest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16.  Before I had kids, if I witnessed a car wreck (or even came up on one) I  would ALWAYS stop and sit with accident victims until the ambulance got there. I wonder if I should have been a paramedic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17.  I hate cleaning the kitchen, but when I do, the dishes have to be put in the dishwasher in a certain way and there is no room for alteration.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18.  Parasailing in Mexico was one of the most incredible experiences of my life. Swimming with the sea turtles, sting rays, and fish the size of my leg ranks up there too. Oh yeah, and the birth of my daughters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19.  I love fabric.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20.  Several of my paintings have spent time in local galleries back in Houston.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21.  I'm amazed by my daughters on a daily basis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22.  I secretly wish to dress goth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23.  I won a dance contest at a bowling alley when i was 21.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24.  When I worked at an urban radio station in Houston, I did the voice over intro for the evening DJ. My script: "T-Gray, it's 7 o'clock...tear it up, Baby."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25.  I see my photography work as God using me to connect people's experiences with their memories.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-1519721095984806834?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/1519721095984806834/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=1519721095984806834' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/1519721095984806834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/1519721095984806834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/01/25-interesting-things-about-me.html' title='25 interesting things about me'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-8237346010357183382</id><published>2009-01-24T09:19:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-24T09:41:04.882-06:00</updated><title type='text'>2 Large Domino's pizzas for $3</title><content type='html'>We ordered pizza last night. Carry out. They said it would be ready in 15min.&lt;br /&gt;I live about 10min. away. So I left to pick them up immediately after calling.&lt;br /&gt;There were 2 men paying for 3 pizzas in line ahead of me.&lt;br /&gt;They looked as though they just got off of work from either a construction site, dirt pit, or some other really grimey line of business.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grimey Guy #1 (emptying out his pocket): Well, I thought I had a few more dollars in this pocket.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grimey Guy#2 (handing guy #1 some change): This is all I've got man. We're going to have to leave one of these behind (as he patted the 3 pizza boxes in front of him).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grimey Guy #1 (looking at the young cashier girl): Sorry Miss, but we only have enough for the 2 pizzas.  How much do we lack?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Young Cashier Girl: $3.85&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grimey Guy #2: OH, WAIT, I just found another dollar (as he handed the young cashier girl another dollar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grimey Guy #1: Well, I guess I could....Miss could you put the $2.85 on my credit card.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK. Stop right there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't stand it. I pulled out $3 (which was a miracle in itself since I NEVER carry cash) and handed it to Grimey Guy #1 and said, "Don't put $3 on your credit card."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He thanked me several times. I told him he was welcome. That was that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got to the front of the line Young Cashier Girl informed me that they lost my order and it would be another 15 min. before it was ready.  I thought of my hungry kids and husband at home and said ok, I'd wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I was waiting I realized they didn't give me receipt when I had handed them my debit card earlier. I went up to the desk and told Young Cashier Girl that I think they forgot to give me a receipt.  Just then, she handed me my pizzas and said...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You don't have a receipt because I didn't charge you. They are FREE since you had to wait."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I almost cried. I couldn't believe they gave me my pizzas for FREE just because I had to wait an extra 8 minutes!!! That was so freakin sweet of her!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thus, my story of 2 Large pizzas for $3.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-8237346010357183382?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/8237346010357183382/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=8237346010357183382' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/8237346010357183382'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/8237346010357183382'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/01/2-large-dominos-pizzas-for-3.html' title='2 Large Domino&apos;s pizzas for $3'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-566320138465514070</id><published>2009-01-11T13:27:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T13:38:12.385-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Potty Training a 1 year old.</title><content type='html'>A little over a year ago, when we had first moved here, I met a Mom whose 18 month old was fully potty trained, and had been for several months. It was so amazing to see this little baby, who could not yet speak in sentences, tell her mother that she needed to potty. While I changed my then 3year old's dirty pull up followed by my then 3 month old's dirty diaper, I shed a small tear and wondered what life would be like NOT having to buy/tote/change diapers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took a vow to myself that day. I would begin potty training as soon as Baby Rae could walk. She's walking now. Let the training begin!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's done great so far. She sits on the big potty instead of her baby potty (probably an influence of big sister), and when it's time to be done, she tears off a square and rubs her belly. She even knows where to put it and how to flush. Now, we wait. Wait for what's to come. Hopefully it won't take 2 and a half more years!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our goal....18 months! We shall see.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-566320138465514070?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/566320138465514070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=566320138465514070' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/566320138465514070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/566320138465514070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/01/potty-training-1-year-old.html' title='Potty Training a 1 year old.'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-1642197744592382440</id><published>2009-01-09T09:41:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-09T09:59:04.178-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My letter to The Economy</title><content type='html'>Dear Economy,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you. Thank you for reminding us to get 'back to the basics' of our finances. Thank you for slapping some sense into some of us by forcing us to finally cut up those little plastic rectangles in our wallets that have become the source of angst to so many Americans. Thank you for stealing half of our savings and our children's college fund, because it is going to make our blessings that much sweeter when you get back to normal and finally pay us back, big time.  Thank you for increasing the prices of food, gas, toilet paper, diapers, and other necessities, because you've made me think twice about what I consider a "necessity." Thank you for basically pulling the rug out from under millions of retired Americans, because hopefully, it will open the eyes of my generation and make us realize that putting money in a 401K isn't enough.  Thank you for helping me prioritize my life and focus on the things that are most important. And, guess what?......it's NOT YOU!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deepest Regards,&lt;br /&gt;:)Christina&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-1642197744592382440?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/1642197744592382440/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=1642197744592382440' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/1642197744592382440'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/1642197744592382440'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/01/my-letter-to-economy.html' title='My letter to The Economy'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-6393361637156826015</id><published>2009-01-04T13:47:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-04T14:07:51.947-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm not perfect.</title><content type='html'>I heard a song on Noggin the other day. Here's the song paraphrased:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not perfect. No I'm Not. I'm not perfect, but I'm all that I've got.&lt;br /&gt;I do my very best. I do my very best. I do my very best each day.&lt;br /&gt;I do my very best. I do my very best. I do my very best each day.&lt;br /&gt;No, I'm not perfect..And you know, I like it that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, THERE is a song to live by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so tired of people and personal blogs out there who totally portray themselves as perfect.&lt;br /&gt;The perfect Mommy. The perfect Family. The perfect House. The perfect Life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Get REAL people!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think there are so many of us "normal" people out there that struggle enough on a daily basis to be a good wife, Mom, house keeper, etc etc etc that it makes it that much more difficult when we see other people IRL (in real life) or on blogs that are (or seem) so perfect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, if you're reading this and you have a seemingly perfect life or blog...do us all a favor.... show us some of the "REAL" you.  Many of you are perfectionists and think IF you portray yourself as such, you will in fact be perfect and in some way, maybe others will look up to or maybe even envy you a bit (which I guess feeds your ego and fills the void that is so obviously in your heart somewhere). Maybe you even think that this perfection will in some way connect you to others. When in reality, you are separating yourself from those you try to impress. You are in a different universe. Separate and alone from the rest of us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first step is realizing you have a problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Repeat after me: "I'm not perfect. No I'm not. I'm not perfect, but I'm all that I've got. I'll do my very best each day. I'm not perfect, and I'll like it that way....and other's will too."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wear my imperfections on my sleeve. Most that know me, REALLY know me, know this about me. I'm not afraid to show you that I'm not perfect....and I like it that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be real. Be true. Be u. Do this, and you'll be FINE in '09!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-6393361637156826015?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/6393361637156826015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=6393361637156826015' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/6393361637156826015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/6393361637156826015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/01/im-not-perfect.html' title='I&apos;m not perfect.'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-4587027998261436945</id><published>2009-01-03T02:13:00.019-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-03T03:06:08.617-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My Rowenta</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SV8gFIurKLI/AAAAAAAAAEU/8Xi2vsalwkI/s1600-h/my+rowenta.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286979760170936498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 164px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SV8gFIurKLI/AAAAAAAAAEU/8Xi2vsalwkI/s320/my+rowenta.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I got a new Rowenta, a fancy steam iron with retractable cord, today. I was so excited. Not necessarily to iron, but to toss out my old iron. You see, I once had a cat named Jake. Jake liked to eat cords. He "ate" my iron cord several times (along with about 10 (not exaggerating) cell phone charger cords, but I'll save that one for another post). And although my rather safety conscience husband told me not to...I used that hole-y corded iron for another 3 years. Until now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Funny thing is...the only items I iron on a regular basis are the seams on the stuff I sew. As a matter of fact, I can't remember the last time I ironed something from our closet. The standing joke among my friends is that Christina "irons" ALL of her husband's clothes...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"iron"=wash, dry, leave in dryer for 3 days, then in a basket by the bed for another 2-4 days, walk beside basket several times a day, finally decide to hang clothes up, realize they are too wrinkled for "normal" wear, squirt down item with water bottle until it's dripping wet, hope the water pulls out wrinkles, realize it didn't pull out wrinkles...rewash.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;ENTER STAGE LEFT: My Rowenta. May she enjoy the "seams" of her new iron life...free from golf shirts, kaki's, and the occasional sunday dress shirt. Here's to you, Row! Hipp hip Horray! Hipp Hip Horray! Hipp Hip Horray!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now, if you'll excuse me, Row would like to show off her Auto Steam feature on some &lt;a href="http://www.amybutlerdesign.com/"&gt;Amy Butler&lt;/a&gt; I just so happened to find for HALF PRICE on the Grab table at my favorite fabric store last month. Bless you Row.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-4587027998261436945?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/4587027998261436945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=4587027998261436945' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/4587027998261436945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/4587027998261436945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2009/01/my-rowenta.html' title='My Rowenta'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SV8gFIurKLI/AAAAAAAAAEU/8Xi2vsalwkI/s72-c/my+rowenta.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-4481388670230823811</id><published>2008-12-30T08:21:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-30T08:27:59.939-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Prayers for The Wims</title><content type='html'>Please pray for my friends Brad and Jenny Wims. Here is a link to their blog. &lt;a href="http://thewims.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://thewims.blogspot.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is one of the bravest and most faithful men I've ever met, and his personality so awesome!!!&lt;br /&gt;Jenny is one of the sweetest, smiliest, most motivated women I know. I wish to be half the wife and mother she is to her family.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-4481388670230823811?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/4481388670230823811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=4481388670230823811' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/4481388670230823811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/4481388670230823811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2008/12/prayers-for-wims.html' title='Prayers for The Wims'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-386457458893206539</id><published>2008-12-29T10:23:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-29T10:49:05.511-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A friend of mine posted this and I thought it would be fun to do. You should try it two and post a link for me in the comments section. I got 43%...pretty good, I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;RULES: There are 100 statements and you bold the ones you have done. Grab it and play for yourself!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1. Started your own blog&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2. Slept under the stars&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3. Played in a band&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Visited Hawaii&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;5. Watched a meteor shower&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;6. Given more than you can afford to charity.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Been to Disneyland&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;8. Climbed a mountain.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Held a praying mantis&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;10. Sang a solo&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Visited Paris&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;13. Watched a lightning storm at sea&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;14. Taught yourself an art from scratch&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt; 15. Adopted a child&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;16. Had food poisoning&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty&lt;br /&gt;18. Grown your own vegetables&lt;br /&gt;19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France&lt;br /&gt;20. Slept in an overnight train&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;21. Had a pillow fight&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. Hitchhiked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;23. Taken a sick day when you're not ill&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24. Built a snow fort&lt;br /&gt;25. Held a lamb&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;26. Gone skinny dipping&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;27. Run a marathon&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice&lt;br /&gt;29. Seen a total eclipse (solar)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;30. Watched a sunrise or sunset&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;31. Hit a home run&lt;br /&gt;32. Been on a cruise&lt;br /&gt;33. Seen Niagara Falls in person&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;35. Seen an Amish community&lt;br /&gt;36. Taught yourself a new language&lt;br /&gt;37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied&lt;br /&gt;38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person&lt;br /&gt;39. Gone rock climbing&lt;br /&gt;40. Seen Michelangelo's David&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;41. Sung karaoke&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;44. Visited Africa&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;45. Walked on a beach by moonlight&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;46. Been transported in an ambulance&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;47. Had your portrait painted&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;48. Gone deep sea fishing&lt;br /&gt;49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person&lt;br /&gt;50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;52. Kissed in the rain&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;53. Played in the mud&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;55. Been in a movie&lt;br /&gt;56. Visited the Great Wall of China&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;57. Started a business&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;58. Taken a martial arts class&lt;br /&gt;59. Visited Russia&lt;br /&gt;60. Served at a soup kitchen&lt;br /&gt;61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies&lt;br /&gt;62. Gone whale watching&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;63. Got flowers for no reason&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;67. Bounced a check&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;68. Flown in a helicopter&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;69. Saved a favorite childhood toy&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial&lt;br /&gt;71. Eaten cavier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;72. Pieced a quilt&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;73. Stood in Times Square&lt;br /&gt;74. Toured the Everglades&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;75. Been fired from a job&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;77. Broken a bone&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;78. Been on a speeding motorcycle&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person&lt;br /&gt;80. Published a book&lt;br /&gt;81. Visited the Vatican&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;82. Bought a brand new car&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;83. Walked in Jerusalem&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;84. Had your picture in the newspaper&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;85. Read the entire Bible&lt;br /&gt;86. Visited the White House&lt;br /&gt;87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;88. Had chicken pox&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;89. Saved someone's life&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;90. Sat on a jury&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;91. Met someone famous&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;92. Joined a book club&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;93. Lost a loved one&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;94. Had a baby&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;95. Seen the Alamo in person&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;97. Been involved in a lawsuit&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;98. Owned a cell phone&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;99. Been stung by a bee&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;100. Read an entire book in one day&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-386457458893206539?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/386457458893206539/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=386457458893206539' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/386457458893206539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/386457458893206539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2008/12/friend-of-mine-posted-this-and-i.html' title=''/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-5415789413020137387</id><published>2008-12-05T07:48:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-05T08:11:03.199-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Pass the ketchup...</title><content type='html'>...because I need it for all the words I've been eating!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are a few statements that have come out of my mouth in the past...you know that "other" life....the one BEFORE kids:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You shouldn't spank your kids...just talk to them and help them understand."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'll never dress like those 'other' Moms...no kakis for me, thank you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'll always buy matching sandals and handbags."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'll never nurse my babies...that's gross"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'll only nurse my babies for 6 months...after that, it's just gross."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'll only nurse my babies for a year, TOPS....after that, it's gross."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why can't that Mother shut up her bratty kid...I shouldn't have to listen to that while I shop for groceries."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What? You make your kids 'hold up the wall' for discipline...I'll never resort to that....you just haven't tried reasoning enough with him/her."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'll never become a Mall Walker."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Wow, that kids such a brat...he/she must not be getting enough attention at home."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You had those kids...don't complain about raising them!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Parents SHOULD go out WITHOUT their kids sometimes...just find a sitter." (ok I still feel this way...just can't bring myself to use a sitter)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Six months is more than enough time to lose that baby weight...just work out!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A year is more than enough time to lose that baby weight...just work out!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Having kids won't change ME...I'll always be 'ME'."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-5415789413020137387?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/5415789413020137387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=5415789413020137387' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/5415789413020137387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/5415789413020137387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2008/12/pass-ketschup.html' title='Pass the ketchup...'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-6300426041460857041</id><published>2008-11-20T09:03:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-20T09:06:59.234-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I love you.</title><content type='html'>She said it. "I love you". Just as plain as day. My baby said "I love you".&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so maybe it was more like "IIWuuuUoooo". But, I'll take it.&lt;br /&gt;I may cancel her birthday party on Saturday...if I cancel the party, she won't have a birthday, if she doesn't have a birthday, than she is NOT "officially" one year old. Right?&lt;br /&gt;sniff, sniff, sniff.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-6300426041460857041?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/6300426041460857041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=6300426041460857041' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/6300426041460857041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/6300426041460857041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-love-you.html' title='I love you.'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-5331441309026291027</id><published>2008-11-10T16:14:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T16:32:31.304-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Today, no worry</title><content type='html'>I'm choosing not to buy into the "worry" hype. I'm not freaking out about the economy. I'm not making plans for losing my house when my husband no longer has a job because of the govt cutting his program (this isn't happening, but I know some of my friends who are already freaking out when they have no indication that such cutting is happening). I am not stock piling groceries. I am not rushing out to buy a gun. I am not filled with a sense of doom for our country just because a man that I did not vote for won the presidency. BUT, many of you are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I understand passion. I'm a passionate person. When I believe in something I role with it. BUT, this alternative type of behavior can't be good for you people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although, in the end, I supported the, (insert a loud GASP from the state of Alabama, and TX for that matter), winning candidate, my feelings of peace are not stemmed from that fact. My contentment with the way things will be does not come because of "him".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My faith is in God. My hope is in his son. My future is destined for greatness because I will one day be united with them both. My rewards do not lay on this earth...therefore if everything I have, including my life, liberty, and family, were lost, I would STILL be ok, joyous even....because my happiness and peace does not lay in man or the things he/she can provide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, today, I have no worries. Today, I am thankful for the things/people I have. And tomorrow...I will hold a newborn baby in my arms and as I smell the crown of her hair, I will praise God that I have the ability to do so, and I will be thankful for the heavenly crown i will one day wear. Today, I have no worries.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-5331441309026291027?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/5331441309026291027/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=5331441309026291027' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/5331441309026291027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/5331441309026291027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2008/11/today-no-worry.html' title='Today, no worry'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-5715400862755152953</id><published>2008-11-09T19:27:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-09T19:32:23.183-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Oprah for President</title><content type='html'>S-O and I have been discussing politics over the past few weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I asked her to tell me the name of the new President...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She said, "Oprah."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said, "No, it's Barack Obama."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She said, "Oh, sorry...Rock Yo Mamma."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-5715400862755152953?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/5715400862755152953/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=5715400862755152953' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/5715400862755152953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/5715400862755152953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2008/11/oprah-for-president.html' title='Oprah for President'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-8142750802668818351</id><published>2008-11-07T19:58:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-07T20:10:00.395-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Safe place.</title><content type='html'>If you were an 11 month old baby....where would you put your extra special toys, pens you aren't supposed to have, pieces of paper you've ripped from a magazine, random goldfish you've found on the floor, or other interesting yet precious items that you want to save for later but hope your parents don't find and take them away?&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Down your Mother's blouse of course!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are just a few items I've had to try and keep Baby Rae from shoving down my shirt! The funniest most recent item included a green marker that I was letting her hold. I was distracted and became unaware that she had removed the cap when she struggled to slip it down my white shirt. Good thing it was a washable.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-8142750802668818351?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/8142750802668818351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=8142750802668818351' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/8142750802668818351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/8142750802668818351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2008/11/safe-place.html' title='Safe place.'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-6007359493245178773</id><published>2008-11-06T21:54:00.030-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-07T03:33:34.378-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Snowman Game FREE Tutorial</title><content type='html'>Pin the Bow on the Snowbaby version: &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SRPBzPZikoI/AAAAAAAAABk/oev0daTBPaA/s1600-h/1The+Game.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265765475377386114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SRPBzPZikoI/AAAAAAAAABk/oev0daTBPaA/s400/1The+Game.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is my first try at creating a FREE TUTORIAL! Let me start by saying there are lots of blogs out there that offer free tutorials on everything from &lt;a href="http://stardustshoes.blogspot.com/2006/10/cloth-shoe-pattern.html"&gt;cloth baby shoes&lt;/a&gt; to super cool &lt;a href="http://craftapple.wordpress.com/2006/09/17/patchwork-notebook-cover-tutorial/"&gt;patchwork notebook covers&lt;/a&gt;. The purpose of sharing info like this is to inspire others to create!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I made this super fun snowman game for my baby's 1st birthday party. This particular version is called Pin the Bow on the Snowbaby. You can modify the pattern for a boy by adding a classic top hat, scarf, and corn cob pipe, and by changing it to a Pin the Nose on the Snowman Game. You can make it as fancy or basic as you wish. I found most of my supplies at Walmart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SRP5uQY2YNI/AAAAAAAAACU/yLekhJ9uwQM/s1600-h/3Supplies2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265826962394734802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SRP5uQY2YNI/AAAAAAAAACU/yLekhJ9uwQM/s320/3Supplies2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265826792300628850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SRP5kWvQS3I/AAAAAAAAACM/KLsA-RCocVI/s320/2Supplies.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;SUPPLIES:&lt;br /&gt;-1.25 yds background felt (Royal Blue)-cut in half to make 2 games&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;-1 yd white felt for body-makes 2 games with lots left over&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;-1 black felt square for eyes, buttons and mouth (2 squares if you're making a top hat)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;-1 orange felt square for nose&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;-felt for the game piece (color and amount varies depending on how many game pieces you want to make...I used pink felt for the bows)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;-velcro (I used sewable velcro)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;-embelishments such as ribbon, tulle and sparklies (try actual buttons for the boy version)&lt;br /&gt;-felt glue -or- thread used to affix Snowman to background (I chose to machine stitch all pieces to the background using a really tight zizag stitch set to zero length.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;-wooden dowel (mine is 1 yd long)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;-string or ribbon&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;-sissors -or- rotory cutter and mat&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;-straight edge -or- ruler &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265827763879565346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SRP6c6JuWCI/AAAAAAAAACc/gqgP969GWt8/s320/4Measure+fabric.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265829266322292290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SRP70XL-_kI/AAAAAAAAACk/E1OO24ZE-vY/s320/5Square+up+fabric.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;STEP ONE: MEASURE and CUT fabric to the desired length and width using a straight edge. Mine measured aprox 26'x45' with 1/2 in. hem allowance. Make sure to include hem allowances on both long sides and bottom. Also include a few extra inches on the top side for the dowel casing. (FYI, these instructions will give you a finished background measuring aprox 25'x 38')&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SRP8LGwuDjI/AAAAAAAAACs/9TOxHiTOmC4/s1600-h/6StitchEdges.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265829657049959986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SRP8LGwuDjI/AAAAAAAAACs/9TOxHiTOmC4/s320/6StitchEdges.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265832981275437154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SRP_Mmd1aGI/AAAAAAAAAC0/RHFFJ3hdVYY/s320/9Insert+Dowel.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;STEP TWO: PRESS and STITCH sides and bottom hem allowances. Create a casing for the top by folding over a few inches and PRESS and STITCH. INSERT dowel into casing and tie off ribbon or string to each end to create a hanger. Set aside&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265837058353663538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SRQC56xCDjI/AAAAAAAAAC8/bUjTxlXJfY8/s320/91Cut+Snowman.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;STEP THREE: Use pots/pans or plates to TRACE out the head, bodice, and base of the Snowman onto white fleece. DRAW eyes, nose, mouth, and buttons onto paper and cut out to use as templates. TRACE templates onto felt and cut out. EMBELLISH as desired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265837667643431634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SRQDdYjCGtI/AAAAAAAAADE/UrYGlFR-Cc4/s320/93FaceDetails.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SRQEyWgPZcI/AAAAAAAAADU/pRYb_YCFxlE/s1600-h/94BodiceDetails.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265839127383729602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SRQEyWgPZcI/AAAAAAAAADU/pRYb_YCFxlE/s320/94BodiceDetails.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SRQE9EqgueI/AAAAAAAAADc/VBXeZAlcdiY/s1600-h/95SkirtDetails.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265839311573531106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SRQE9EqgueI/AAAAAAAAADc/VBXeZAlcdiY/s320/95SkirtDetails.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;STEP FOUR: ARRANGE and AFFIX pieces using your prefered method. I chose to machine stitch all the pieces to the background using a really tight zigzag stitch set to zero width. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265838889475956786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SRQEkgOm4DI/AAAAAAAAADM/pSiGfWQkMGU/s320/96Game+Pieces.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;STEP FIVE: DRAW game pieces onto tracing/butcher paper to use as templates. TRACE templates onto game piece felt. CUT out game pieces. AFFIX velcro to game pieces (I machine stitched strips of velcro to the back of game pieces).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265839515239138818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SRQFI7YLRgI/AAAAAAAAADk/wdlrg2SZHao/s320/98PlayGame.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;STEP SIX: PLAY game and award prizes for the one who's closest to the target.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-6007359493245178773?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/6007359493245178773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=6007359493245178773' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/6007359493245178773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/6007359493245178773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2008/11/snowman-game-free-tutorial.html' title='Snowman Game FREE Tutorial'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SRPBzPZikoI/AAAAAAAAABk/oev0daTBPaA/s72-c/1The+Game.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-8091423308334601101</id><published>2008-11-06T08:01:00.013-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T17:09:40.881-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Interesting Conversation</title><content type='html'>(Disclaimer: No actual Husbands were harmed in the making of this conversation. Although this story is based on a true story, the names of the people involved have been changed for their protection:)&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(wife, and stay at mother whose been on the go since 5:10am with a crying/teething baby, stands, cooking dinner at 8pm after a day filled with whining children, cleaning, shopping(not the fun kind), chauffeuring, volunteering, paying bills, working from home, listening to screaming children and dreaming of a bath)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wife: You know, Jane Doe, is going back to work. She's brave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;husband: Oh? She HAS to go back to work already?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wife: No, she WANTS to go back to work. I want to go back to work, but I think my mind wouldn't let me. I'd feel too guilty because I didn't HAVE to...I'd WANT to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;husband: That would be more stressful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wife: For who?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;husband: Well, it would stress me out thinking someone else would be caring for our children. And you too...it would be much more stressful for you to go back to work. You should see the ladies in my office. They have to get up at 5 am, fix lunches, get everybody to school/daycare, go to work all day, come home, cook dinner, baths, clean house etc....it never ends for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wife (seriously considering throwing the pan, hot grease included, on top of her husbands head, and biting her lip so hard she can taste copper on her tongue, but just too darn tired to even explain/debate/argue): Yeah, I guess so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moral of the story...about 10 minutes of extra sleep separates the Stay-At-Home-Mother from the Work-Outside-The-Home Mother...and that 10 minutes is subject to change. We should both respect each other as equals.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-8091423308334601101?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/8091423308334601101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=8091423308334601101' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/8091423308334601101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/8091423308334601101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2008/11/imaginary-conversation.html' title='Interesting Conversation'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-8336742776737141340</id><published>2008-11-03T23:03:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-03T23:40:02.791-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Drastic Times = Drastic Measures</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SQ_d1y5mI9I/AAAAAAAAABc/RBk91Sj3TaQ/s1600-h/S-O-timeout.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264670405685552082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SQ_d1y5mI9I/AAAAAAAAABc/RBk91Sj3TaQ/s400/S-O-timeout.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I received a call from S-O's MDO teacher 3x's last week.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hitting, pushing, pinching.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ok, disobeying the teacher....I can deal with.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Not sitting still during circle time....dealable.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Having to be chased by, not one, not two, but three adults when it's time to come inside from recess...manageable.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hitting, pushing, pinching....(long pause) (deep breath)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;NOT ACCEPTABLE!!! &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We WILL NOT, ABSOLUTELY IN NO WAY SHAPE OR FORM, ALLOW THIS BEHAVIOR FROM OUR CHILD!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The first day, we grounded her from watching Dora, explained what would happen if it happened again, and rehearsed how she is to respect her teachers and friends.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The second day, I informed her teachers upon drop off that I would appreciate a phone call if any of said behavior occurs.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;38 minutes later....I got the call.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was back up to the school in 11minutes with the intent to follow through with said spanking. (long pause, deep breath)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I thought about it. Conceptually. She hits...I hit. Something didn't fit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I didn't spank. Instead, I talked to her about her friends feelings and tried to help her understand.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The 3rd day. Ah...that 3rd day. I got the call around 11:30. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Uncontrollable on the playground. Pushing. Pinching. Timeout. Trip to the Directors Office. Had to sit in the RED chair. Hysterical crying and flayling of the arms.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;(long pause, deep breath)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Her punishment...John and I put EVERY (and I mean EVERY) toy she owns upstairs in the playroom....and left her favorite ones on the stair case for her to see everytime she goes down the hallway. The plan: make her earn back her toys one at a time by displaying proper behavior.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This weekend was rough. Every single good thing she did received a reward of one toy of her choice AND every single thing she did wrong resulted in a toy being taken away again. She earned and re-lost the same 4 toys about 50 times the first 2 days. We were stuck on 5 toys until today. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today, she earned back 15 toys. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;She's like a different child.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yes ma'am. No sir. Thank you. Kisses to Mommy/Daddy/Baby Rae. She set the table for dinner (forks and napkins) and put her dirty dishes in the sink...unprompted! She even reminded me that she hadn't brushed her teeth yet when I went to tuck her in for bed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm dumbfounded. I hope it lasts.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tomorrow will be the BIG test day at school. We will see if our method worked. (BTW, thanks to Traci for sharing this idea with me) I'll provide an update later.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-8336742776737141340?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/8336742776737141340/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=8336742776737141340' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/8336742776737141340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/8336742776737141340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2008/11/drastic-times-drastic-measures.html' title='Drastic Times = Drastic Measures'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SQ_d1y5mI9I/AAAAAAAAABc/RBk91Sj3TaQ/s72-c/S-O-timeout.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-2054796617960769936</id><published>2008-10-25T11:26:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-25T11:37:08.606-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Self motivation for the day...</title><content type='html'>The other day at S-O's ballet class I had the following conversations:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me to S-O as she ran away from the ballet instructor for the 10th time: S-O, go back out there and dance with your teacher. (as I give her a little nudge towards the wood flooring and ballet bar).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me to Baby Rae as she tried to wiggle out of my arms for the 10th time: You are such a wiggly baby. Silly girl, be still and stop taking off your socks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;gentleman onlooker: Wow, you sure have your hands full.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: Yeah. Better full than empty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;gentleman onlooker: Sometimes you just have to tell yourself that to get through the day, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: yes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-2054796617960769936?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/2054796617960769936/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=2054796617960769936' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/2054796617960769936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/2054796617960769936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2008/10/self-motivation-for-day.html' title='Self motivation for the day...'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-2789776358926910448</id><published>2008-10-25T11:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-25T11:25:39.423-05:00</updated><title type='text'>GROSGRAIN MINI STORE OPENING NOVEMBER 6!!!! AND BIG PREVIEW GIVEAWAY!!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://grosgrainfabulous.blogspot.com/2008/10/grosgrain-mini-store-opening-and.html"&gt;GROSGRAIN MINI STORE OPENING NOVEMBER 6!!!! AND BIG PREVIEW GIVEAWAY!!!!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love this blog!!! I'm totally going to order some of these fabulous skirts if I don't win this giveaway. Hey, I think she has inspired me to host my own giveaway....stay tuned!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-2789776358926910448?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://grosgrainfabulous.blogspot.com/2008/10/grosgrain-mini-store-opening-and.html' title='GROSGRAIN MINI STORE OPENING NOVEMBER 6!!!! AND BIG PREVIEW GIVEAWAY!!!!'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/2789776358926910448/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=2789776358926910448' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/2789776358926910448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/2789776358926910448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2008/10/grosgrain-mini-store-opening-november-6.html' title='GROSGRAIN MINI STORE OPENING NOVEMBER 6!!!! AND BIG PREVIEW GIVEAWAY!!!!'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-6911692967605041250</id><published>2008-10-20T10:29:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-20T10:45:05.304-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Manipulation</title><content type='html'>me: S-O, hurry up and use the bathroom so we can go to your speech class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S-O: If I use the potty, I get to watch a movie on my DVD player.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: No, you are grounded from watching movies for today because you screamed in the house this morning. Now, go use the restroom please.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S-O: If I use the potty, I get to watch Dora on TV. (note: Dora was already starting on tv)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: Arrgh, ok, you can watch Dora on TV, just GO USE THE RESTROOM!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S-O: Pause it please.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: OK&lt; it's paused...now GO!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(20 minutes later) S-O: Mommy I peed. I get to watch Dora.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I push play on DVR, the Dora song plays for about 30 sec...then it's done....it was a commercial!!! Snap!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: Sorry S-O, Mommy made a mistake, Dora is not on...that was just a commercial. Anyway, we have to go now, we are late for school...come on get your shoes on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S-O: Mommy, you said I could watch Dora. You made a mistake. I get to watch a movie in the car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me to self: Uhhhh. What should I say? I need time. Buy some time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me to her: Let's call Daddy and ask him. (knowing he was in a meeting and couldn't answer)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: Oh, he can't talk right now...we'll call him after speech class. Now, get your shoes on and lets go!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S-O: Mommy if I put on my shoes, I get to watch a movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-insert eye roll here-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-6911692967605041250?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/6911692967605041250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=6911692967605041250' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/6911692967605041250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/6911692967605041250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2008/10/manipulation.html' title='Manipulation'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-478818290512584405</id><published>2008-10-15T00:42:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-15T01:04:59.251-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Indecisive</title><content type='html'>I do not like to fill out those "50 questions about me" type surveys. I usually just delete them after I've read about their sender. However, last week, I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;received&lt;/span&gt; a survey and one of the questions (well, my answer to one of the questions) is haunting me. It was something to the effect of "name 3 character traits you dislike most in others". If I were the type of person to fill out those surveys, I would have answered that question something like this: The character traits I most dislike in others include dishonesty, passive aggressiveness, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;indecisiveness&lt;/span&gt;. It's that last one that's haunting me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a pretty bold and opinionated person. I wear my heart and mind on my sleeve for most to see. If you're around me much, you'll pretty much hear my opinion about something...&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;, everything. Most of the time, I like to play "devil's advocate" to help people see the other side of the coin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, I am having a BIG problem playing "advocate" to EITHER one of the two men who may become the Leader of the Free World.&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to share my opinions. I don't want to hear other people's opinions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am totally and utterly indecisive for one of the first times in my life. In a few weeks, I will be voting for the lesser of TWO EVILS!!!&lt;br /&gt;Neither of them have a plan for our nation that I am 100% confident in.&lt;br /&gt;Neither of them have a history that I am 100% comfortable with.&lt;br /&gt;Neither of them have my confidence.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe, after tomorrow, after the final debate, I will have an Ah Ha moment and will feel like I've made my choice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh and I should add hypocritical to the list of traits I dislike...especially since I'm discussing politics.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-478818290512584405?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/478818290512584405/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=478818290512584405' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/478818290512584405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/478818290512584405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2008/10/indecisive.html' title='Indecisive'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-8694059747393115004</id><published>2008-09-14T21:58:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-15T16:45:09.685-05:00</updated><title type='text'>You have 30 minutes to gather up your life...</title><content type='html'>That is what my BFF Carrie heard from the Nassau Bay (a community south of Houston and north of Galveston)authorities  about accessing possible damage to her home post Hurricane Ike. She and her husband evacuated their home early on Friday in preparation for the storm. The region, as seen on tv, was devistated by a raging storm surge and high winds. And tomorrow morning, she and her hubby of 4 years will have 30 "approved" minutes to visit their home, gather up what they can, take pictures if needed, and say goodbye (temporarily of course). Who knows what they will find when they enter their home. Who knows when they will be allowed back to clean up any debris or possible damage. Please pray for my dear friends. They are such loving, kind, and totally rockin cool people...and I hope they don't have to deal with much clean up. I wish I wasn't so far away and could help clean up that community...and my parents, aunts/uncles/cousins and other friends communities as well... since they all had some sort of damage from the Hurricane&lt;br /&gt;I love you, Houston and surrounding area. My thoughts and prayers are with you all!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-8694059747393115004?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/8694059747393115004/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=8694059747393115004' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/8694059747393115004'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/8694059747393115004'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2008/09/you-have-30-minutes-to-gather-up-your.html' title='You have 30 minutes to gather up your life...'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-8344621949852977362</id><published>2008-09-14T00:29:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-14T00:35:04.354-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What have i done?!!!</title><content type='html'>Yikes, I posted the outfit (see below) on ebay and have been bombarded with orders! I've taken 5 complete set orders, 2 orders for just the pants, and one for just some shirts! And that's not counting the 4 or 5 orders that are pending. How will I find time to do all this!? I love to sew, but sheesh! Need to order more material. Need to cut out the patterns. Need to hire some people to hide in my basement  (if I had one) and work all hours of the day and night to bust out all these orders!!!  "Hey, S-O, wanna learn how to sew?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-8344621949852977362?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/8344621949852977362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=8344621949852977362' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/8344621949852977362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/8344621949852977362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2008/09/what-have-i-done.html' title='What have i done?!!!'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-5679349690304499750</id><published>2008-09-10T00:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-10T00:39:49.122-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleepytime Bear Nightgown GIVEAWAY !!!!!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://grosgrainfabulous.blogspot.com/2008/09/sleepybear-nightgown-giveaway.html"&gt;Sleepytime Bear Nightgown GIVEAWAY !!!!!!!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another give away......yeah! This would be great for photoshoots!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-5679349690304499750?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://grosgrainfabulous.blogspot.com/2008/09/sleepybear-nightgown-giveaway.html' title='Sleepytime Bear Nightgown GIVEAWAY !!!!!!!'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/5679349690304499750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=5679349690304499750' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/5679349690304499750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/5679349690304499750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2008/09/sleepytime-bear-nightgown-giveaway.html' title='Sleepytime Bear Nightgown GIVEAWAY !!!!!!!'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-7954778363505053235</id><published>2008-09-09T15:54:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-09T16:05:15.128-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Stop complaining and LIVE already!!!!!!!</title><content type='html'>Five things I say to myself almost daily (not in any particular order):&lt;br /&gt;1. "Stop complaining...and LIVE already!"&lt;br /&gt;2. "Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, swimming, swimming, swimming, SWIM!!!"&lt;br /&gt;3.  "You're gonna miss this..."&lt;br /&gt;4.  "The grass is NOT greener...really."&lt;br /&gt;5.  "What would ________ do?"  (insert the name of various people who I think would perform the task at hand MUCH better than me)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-7954778363505053235?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/7954778363505053235/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=7954778363505053235' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/7954778363505053235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/7954778363505053235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2008/09/stop-complaining-and-live-already.html' title='Stop complaining and LIVE already!!!!!!!'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-720908313738190508</id><published>2008-09-08T20:51:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-08T21:12:41.001-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm NOT smiling!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SMXa-Shx08I/AAAAAAAAABI/7O_8VkF3lm4/s1600-h/S-Onotsmiling.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243838104803070914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SMXa-Shx08I/AAAAAAAAABI/7O_8VkF3lm4/s400/S-Onotsmiling.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; "I am NOT smiling!" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SMXaan1h9YI/AAAAAAAAABA/HEFoQU7MYws/s1600-h/S-Osmirk.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243837492047771010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SMXaan1h9YI/AAAAAAAAABA/HEFoQU7MYws/s400/S-Osmirk.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-720908313738190508?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/720908313738190508/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=720908313738190508' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/720908313738190508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/720908313738190508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2008/09/im-not-smiling.html' title='I&apos;m NOT smiling!'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SMXa-Shx08I/AAAAAAAAABI/7O_8VkF3lm4/s72-c/S-Onotsmiling.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-5643116029581825760</id><published>2008-09-08T20:27:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-08T21:13:02.787-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Letter to the Editor</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SMXV-4hoWNI/AAAAAAAAAA4/D-3Btl022go/s1600-h/RaeCollage.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243832617444858066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SMXV-4hoWNI/AAAAAAAAAA4/D-3Btl022go/s400/RaeCollage.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dear Parent's Magazine Editor Lady,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love (to eat) your magazine. It's really fun (to tear). I especially enjoy (biting) the Mom Notes Section. It provides (my belly) lots of great recipies for life (and dinner).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sincerely,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;:)Christina (Baby Rae) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-5643116029581825760?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/5643116029581825760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=5643116029581825760' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/5643116029581825760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/5643116029581825760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2008/09/letter-to-editor.html' title='Letter to the Editor'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SMXV-4hoWNI/AAAAAAAAAA4/D-3Btl022go/s72-c/RaeCollage.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1288850027727717951.post-799034533384634505</id><published>2008-09-08T19:00:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-08T22:01:08.107-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hot despite the pain...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SMXmOy49lGI/AAAAAAAAABQ/-b2-9pgCmPA/s1600-h/MrHottybeingHot.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243850482996057186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SMXmOy49lGI/AAAAAAAAABQ/-b2-9pgCmPA/s400/MrHottybeingHot.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here's Mr. Hotty looking HOT...despite the excruciating pain in his back. He somehow injured his back on Saturday but didn't feel the extent of his injury until Sunday morning when he literally had to wrestle S-O into her carseat after church. The super HOT husband and loving Daddy that he is...sucked it up and posed with his girls for an impromptu photo shoot after lunch.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1288850027727717951-799034533384634505?l=cjalabama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/feeds/799034533384634505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1288850027727717951&amp;postID=799034533384634505' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/799034533384634505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1288850027727717951/posts/default/799034533384634505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cjalabama.blogspot.com/2008/09/hot-despite-pain.html' title='Hot despite the pain...'/><author><name>CJAlabama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14323996276532537996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SpqrwjsacyI/AAAAAAAAAIM/pIOB74q-KnU/S220/Snapshot+of+me+2.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SdJ6DNhTHjo/SMXmOy49lGI/AAAAAAAAABQ/-b2-9pgCmPA/s72-c/MrHottybeingHot.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
