<?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-7890857308975721013</id><updated>2012-02-16T06:10:57.047-08:00</updated><category term='pictures'/><category term='Motherhood'/><category term='News murder and mayhem'/><category term='raising boys'/><category term='reflection'/><category term='Susan Boyle'/><category term='babies'/><category term='being thankful'/><category term='Tantrums'/><category term='keys'/><category term='dinner'/><category term='Marriage family'/><category term='Date Night'/><category term='death'/><category term='Favorite Things'/><category term='Misc'/><category term='bad roomates'/><category term='Headline News'/><category term='boys'/><category term='marriage'/><category term='family.'/><category term='Household pests'/><category term='gross stuff.'/><category term='Fear'/><category term='NIght time'/><category term='Gay'/><category term='Children Family'/><category term='obits'/><category term='pf changs'/><category term='mob'/><category term='entertainment.'/><category term='Indiana Jones'/><category term='family'/><category term='Kdis'/><category term='Parnoia'/><category term='Aging'/><category term='Money'/><category term='Swine Flue'/><category term='heartbreak'/><category term='News'/><category term='Gavin Owens'/><category term='kids'/><category term='humor'/><category term='husbands'/><category term='Wisdom'/><category term='Faith God'/><category term='Dating'/><category term='children'/><category term='TV'/><category term='Homosexuality'/><category term='motherhhod'/><category term='Kids Motherhood'/><category term='godfather'/><category term='God'/><category term='politics'/><category term='plants'/><category term='Entertainment'/><category term='Play dates'/><category term='New blog roll'/><category term='`chapstick'/><category term='faith'/><category term='Gardening'/><category term='television'/><category term='freaks'/><category term='life'/><category term='Movie Review'/><category term='rich people'/><category term='ring worm.'/><category term='random thoughts'/><category term='World Events'/><category term='paranormal'/><category term='love'/><category term='marriage motherhood'/><category term='ghost hunters'/><title type='text'>Perfectly P</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>71</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-6731664956706330328</id><published>2009-11-06T09:46:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-06T10:19:42.560-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gavin Owens'/><title type='text'>Dear Adam and Karen Owens</title><content type='html'>You knew the cost of loving someone so fragile, yet you gave your hearts like the next thousand years were yours for the taking. You have endured what us parents fear in the deepest recesses of our minds with hope.  I am struck by the agonizing choices you have made and how your only concerns were for giving your Gavin the best possible life that you could.  When given the option to keep him here you chose to let him go because you loved him more than you loved yourselves, knowing what that decision would mean. because of that, I know that he is taking more love with him than any of us can comprehend. You have taught us to love with abandon. My human mind can not wrap itself around these circumstances but my heart is resolute that God is with us, always.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.gavinowens.com/"&gt;http://www.gavinowens.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-6731664956706330328?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/6731664956706330328/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=6731664956706330328' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/6731664956706330328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/6731664956706330328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2009/11/dear-adam-and-karen-owens.html' title='Dear Adam and Karen Owens'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-8525943602629086603</id><published>2009-11-05T07:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T07:14:11.613-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Headline News'/><title type='text'>Talk amongst yourselves</title><content type='html'>A &lt;a title="South Carolina" href="http://www.nydailynews.com/topics/South+Carolina" ywaonclickoverride="true"&gt;South Carolina&lt;/a&gt; man was busted for having sex with a horse, while on probation for having sex with the same horse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Rodell&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Vereen&lt;/span&gt;, 50, was arrested Monday night in the throes of bestiality by the filly's shotgun-toting owner, who also has video surveillance of the perverse act. Read more: &lt;a href="http://www.nydailynews.com/news/2009/07/29/2009-07-29_south_carolina_man_busted_for_having_sex_with_horse.html#ixzz0VzwXGVLA"&gt;http://www.nydailynews.com/news/2009/07/29/2009-07-29_south_carolina_man_busted_for_having_sex_with_horse.html#ixzz0VzwXGVLA&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SOMEONE BUY THIS MAN A PROSTITUTE&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-8525943602629086603?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/8525943602629086603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=8525943602629086603' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/8525943602629086603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/8525943602629086603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2009/11/talk-amongst-yourselves.html' title='Talk amongst yourselves'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-3662734739699895089</id><published>2009-11-04T05:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-04T05:23:15.033-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Headline News'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Misc'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Swine Flue'/><title type='text'>Light a Candle</title><content type='html'>This made CNN headline news:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Atlanta, Georgia (CNN) -- The H1N1 virus has afflicted another celebrity victim.&lt;br /&gt;Shawn &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Stockman&lt;/span&gt; of the R&amp;amp;B group &lt;a class="cnnInlineTopic" href="http://topics.cnn.com/topics/Boyz_II_Men"&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Boyz&lt;/span&gt; II Men&lt;/a&gt; has been diagnosed with the illness, fellow group members &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Wanya&lt;/span&gt; Morris and Nathan Morris told CNN.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would like to point out that the H1N1, as far as I can tell, has no motivation to attack poor Shawn &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Stockman&lt;/span&gt;. However,  I think they got into a disagreement once, but they patched things up.  We should  be very afraid - if celebrities aren't safe then think about the fate that awaits the rest of us. I mean.......celebrities, our sacred cows. Doesn't the virus have any respect at all? Could it be &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;HN&lt;/span&gt;1 is not a R&amp;amp; B fan? No.  According to CNN, "&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Stockman&lt;/span&gt; joins a growing list of stars who have fallen prey to the &lt;a class="cnnInlineTopic" href="http://topics.cnn.com/topics/Swine_Flu"&gt;swine flu&lt;/a&gt;, including the Backstreet Boys' Brian &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Littrell&lt;/span&gt; and "Harry Potter" star Rupert &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Grint&lt;/span&gt;."  Run! Its after pop music and the movies. We are all doomed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-3662734739699895089?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/3662734739699895089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=3662734739699895089' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/3662734739699895089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/3662734739699895089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2009/11/light-candle.html' title='Light a Candle'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-2851755566177152745</id><published>2009-10-19T16:12:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-19T16:20:10.776-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Technology gone wrong</title><content type='html'>Seriously, today I had very ominous e-mails from strange places.  Weight Watchers sent me an e-mail that said "Why aren't you loosing weight", I was eating  breakfast at the time. I think they have agents in my neighborhood and man are they judgemental. Then classmates sent a message that said "we found your friends", I think there might be a ransom to follow. If you are a friend of mine, I apologize for your abduction. Then my facebook page said, Patti, find out what God has to say to you.  Apparently he has been talking behind my back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-2851755566177152745?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/2851755566177152745/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=2851755566177152745' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/2851755566177152745'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/2851755566177152745'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2009/10/technology-gone-wrong.html' title='Technology gone wrong'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-971928551016378777</id><published>2009-10-16T06:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-16T06:26:36.085-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids'/><title type='text'>vampires</title><content type='html'>Liam: I had the craziest dream last night, ya I said crazy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:  What was it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Liam: I dreamed a vampire was chasing me but I ran away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Was it scary&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Liam: Well..... everyone knows how I feel about vampires&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-971928551016378777?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/971928551016378777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=971928551016378777' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/971928551016378777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/971928551016378777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2009/10/vampires.html' title='vampires'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-7998622800851775213</id><published>2009-10-03T19:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-03T19:22:50.624-07:00</updated><title type='text'>no pants required</title><content type='html'>Me:  Why don't you have your pants on&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6 yr old son: They are outside&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:  I thought you were camping in the backyard&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6 yr old: I don't need pants to go camping, I'm a boy. Girls need to wear pants and a hat&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-7998622800851775213?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/7998622800851775213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=7998622800851775213' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/7998622800851775213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/7998622800851775213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2009/10/no-pants-required.html' title='no pants required'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-2887757254805572200</id><published>2009-10-03T16:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-03T17:40:03.875-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bad roomates'/><title type='text'>girl in the next bed</title><content type='html'>Dear girl in the next bed,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hearing you and your family light up the night sky with the f bomb was especially heartwarming and I didn't realize that your dad could foghorn burp for hours. His ability to snore over your cell phone &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;play list&lt;/span&gt; is admirable.  I do agree that your drunk &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;posse&lt;/span&gt; should be able to sleep on the floor and I shared your joy that they didn't get busted. And having a  complete stranger urinate on the bathroom floor  does make you giggle. I remember just like it was yesterday the  midnight picnics that you and your mom shared and yes, turning on the lights did create the perfect dining atmosphere. Most of all I enjoyed the sense of  adventure we shared as you &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;didn't&lt;/span&gt; like to wash your hands.....ever, nothing says excitement  like &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;guess&lt;/span&gt; which knob i didn't touch.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-2887757254805572200?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/2887757254805572200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=2887757254805572200' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/2887757254805572200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/2887757254805572200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2009/10/girl-in-next-bed.html' title='girl in the next bed'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-5315051844329521888</id><published>2009-09-20T06:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-20T07:10:01.176-07:00</updated><title type='text'>All because I vomit</title><content type='html'>I get sick on a wed, go to primary care, they send me to a &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;gastro&lt;/span&gt; specialist in &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Louisville&lt;/span&gt; who orders a cat scan on &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Thur&lt;/span&gt;. I drink copious amounts of I don't know what, have said cat scan. The radiologist says go see a surgeon in like 5.2 minutes and then mentions-I notice you have your tubes tied. This was weird because I don't know him and because it has nothing to do with what is ailing me. I guess it was his way of saying nice shirt only in radiologist lingo. Finally take disc of scan to surgeon and as I try to give it to his nurse she says he doesn't need it he is old school. I wasn't sure what that meant. Old school like I will be biting on a bullet or Old school like he is really hip and rebelling against mainstream culture. That is still a mystery. Bottom line, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;appendix&lt;/span&gt; is out and 12 staples are holding my intestines in their luggage department.  However, the orginal reason I kept getting sick is still up for further testing and my appendix coming out was just accidental find. What did you do this week?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-5315051844329521888?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/5315051844329521888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=5315051844329521888' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/5315051844329521888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/5315051844329521888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2009/09/all-because-i-vomit.html' title='All because I vomit'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-2915703119051188238</id><published>2009-09-03T19:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-03T19:26:16.728-07:00</updated><title type='text'>crazy woman on campus</title><content type='html'>I jumped back in the pool of higher education this week and have managed to make a complete fool out of my self in every class.  I submit the list for your approval.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Music appreciation -  on my first quiz I wrote  word painting wall- that's right word painting wall, the correct answer would be text painting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Religious studies - My prof was a little disgruntled when I ask for a vocab list from a class I missed last week when she finally decided I had been put in my proper place she gave it to me she said "well it's gonna count as late" I was thinking whatever and thought to myself say nothing, instead I said whatever. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  Psychology of learning - showed up to a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Tuesday&lt;/span&gt; night class on thursday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.   &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Psychology&lt;/span&gt; of aging -   left my ringer on which played an An All American Rejects. catchy? yes, appropriate - not sure.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-2915703119051188238?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/2915703119051188238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=2915703119051188238' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/2915703119051188238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/2915703119051188238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2009/09/crazy-woman-on-campus.html' title='crazy woman on campus'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-5742960474045357687</id><published>2009-08-17T07:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-17T07:26:26.300-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random thoughts'/><title type='text'>random thoughts</title><content type='html'>Suicide bombers are a lot less selfish than I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In an effort to not look foolish, 25 people will stand outside a door just because one of them said it is locked and usually that person was just guessing to begin with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have people take a number and stand in line and they will not budge until there number is called.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone will have a least one crap job in their lifetime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-5742960474045357687?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/5742960474045357687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=5742960474045357687' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/5742960474045357687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/5742960474045357687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2009/08/random-thoughts.html' title='random thoughts'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-9157189293572700782</id><published>2009-07-10T06:54:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-10T07:07:22.503-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The library cafe, a pool for peeves</title><content type='html'>Because I don't want to take money out of emergency savings,  I am forced to used a computer at the library, which I have avoided. However, today the campus IT room is closed and I had some work to do-so I am here, at the library, sharing space with people who like to ignore the social norms most of us cling too.  Okay, look left,  the gal next to me is using her gum as a means of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Morse&lt;/span&gt; code and I am assuming the really loud pop at the end would be the period at the end of a sentence.  Should I tell her the cold war ended?  In front of me I have your every day run of the mill cell phone whisper geni. The person who thinks that by whispering really loudly has indeed complied with the no cell phone use,  I think his cousin was in the IT lab last week. Pen clicker is two desks down and heavy breather is four down. Oh and our regional  porn dude is here. Don't confuse him with the heavy breather that are two different folks.  they don't sit next   So, I am paying the sitter to take a dive in the pool of peeves.  I am reconsidering my definition of emergency and perhaps we will be going to best buy this weekend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-9157189293572700782?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/9157189293572700782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=9157189293572700782' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/9157189293572700782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/9157189293572700782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2009/07/library-cafe-pool-for-peeves.html' title='The library cafe, a pool for peeves'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-7854104982482969916</id><published>2009-07-08T07:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-08T07:39:15.283-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things that broke this week</title><content type='html'>You all have been waiting for it:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dryer hose&lt;br /&gt;computer&lt;br /&gt;my patience&lt;br /&gt;kitchen chair&lt;br /&gt;a $30 batman&lt;br /&gt;my patience&lt;br /&gt;shoes&lt;br /&gt;blood vessels around my eyes during a great vomit session&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-7854104982482969916?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/7854104982482969916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=7854104982482969916' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/7854104982482969916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/7854104982482969916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2009/07/things-that-broke-this-week.html' title='Things that broke this week'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-4103894396777444487</id><published>2009-06-05T05:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-05T06:07:06.306-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='humor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='obits'/><title type='text'>The Clingenpeel method</title><content type='html'>Most obits  smooth over the details using terms like, left this life or entered into rest-Not this family. They just put it out there.   If they are true to form, the rest of his obit should read like this. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bennie was put in a overpriced wooden box,&lt;br /&gt;you can come stare at him on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Tuesday&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Kok&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.kokomotribune.com/obituaries/local_story_155220913.html"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;omo&lt;/span&gt; Tribune; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Kokomo&lt;/span&gt;, Indiana - Bennie Lee &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Clingenpeel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;: "Bennie Lee &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Clingenpeel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sept. 6, 1932 - June 1, 2009&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bennie Lee &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Clingenpeel&lt;/span&gt;, 76, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Kokomo&lt;/span&gt;, was found dead Monday, June 1, 2009, at his home. He was born Sept. 6, 1932, in Clinton County, to Roy J. and Lillian R. (Morris) &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Clingenpeel&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-4103894396777444487?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/4103894396777444487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=4103894396777444487' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/4103894396777444487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/4103894396777444487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2009/06/clingenpeel-method.html' title='The Clingenpeel method'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-3674928442465839613</id><published>2009-06-02T02:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T03:15:01.940-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Josh, the dance</title><content type='html'>My son has had an imaginary brother for 2 years now, that's right 2.  He is an older fellow and has resided in California, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Florida&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;occasionally&lt;/span&gt; in Kentucky, as you can see he is a bit of a nomad and at one time he had 2 other sisters and a bird. Sometimes Josh gives Liam the okay to do things we veto and here lately he calls &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Liam&lt;/span&gt; on his cell phone at really bad times, like bed time for instance.  Sometimes Josh comes with us on trips, other times he is busy but he doesn't like to tell us with what. Recently, Josh taught Liam to break dance.  So, my son did what only a boy with  so much rhythm could do, he broke it down at his class talent show.  I love it that he was so brave, so unaware of himself and what he was risking. I just don't want him to ever be bothered with what other people think and let it stop him. For the record, when  I was his age I sang a beautiful rendition of I'm in the Lord's army (complete with a salute) for my class talent show.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-3674928442465839613?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/3674928442465839613/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=3674928442465839613' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/3674928442465839613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/3674928442465839613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2009/06/josh-dance.html' title='Josh, the dance'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-5169543298233900080</id><published>2009-05-21T09:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-21T09:31:47.373-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ruby and ditty</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.kokomotribune.com/obituaries/local_story_140221117.html"&gt;Kokomo Tribune; Kokomo, Indiana - Ruby P. Fox&lt;/a&gt;: "Ruby P. Fox&lt;br /&gt;Sept. 7, 1929 - May 20, 2009&lt;br /&gt;Ruby P. Fox, 95, Tipton, passed away on Wednesday, May 20, 2009, at Tipton Hospital. She was born in Jasper County on Sept. 22, 1913, to Clyde Madison and Dora Ellen (Price) Burris. Ruby married Ditty Plake on Sept. 7, 1929, and he passed away on Aug. 18, 1983. She married Ernest A. Fox in 1963, and he passed away in 1996.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ruby had attended Ash Street Wesleyan Church in Tipton and Family Worship Center of Kokomo. She retired in 1976 from F.M.C. with more than 30 years of service.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is survived by her children, Ruby J. and husband Albert Earl Wylie, Celina, Tenn., Earl A. and wife Cyrilynk Plake, Burkburnett, Texas, Sherri A. and husband James L. Osborn, Tipton, Arletta L. and husband Paul R. Baxter, Tipton, Charles W. and wife Carol E. Plake, Tipton, and Vickie and husband Fred J. Dickey, Frankfort; a daughter-in-law, Cassandra Plake, Goldsmith; sister, Dorris Tirey, Westfield; and a brother, Richard Burris, Tipton. She is also survived by 25 grandchildren, 38 great-grandchildren, and 21 great-great-grandchildren.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ruby was preceded in death by her parents; husband; a son, Jack E. Plake; five sisters and two brothers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Services will be 10 a.m. Saturday at Porter Funeral Home, Tipton, with Pastor Jim Bradley officiating. Burial will be in Normanda Cemetery. Visitation will be 6 to 8 p.m. Friday at the funeral home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Memorials may be made to the Diabetes Association"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like this one simply because she married a guy named ditty. I hope they were happy because his name would make arguments a little difficult.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-5169543298233900080?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.kokomotribune.com/obituaries/local_story_140221117.html' title='ruby and ditty'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/5169543298233900080/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=5169543298233900080' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/5169543298233900080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/5169543298233900080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2009/05/ruby-and-ditty_21.html' title='ruby and ditty'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-4493119123499783517</id><published>2009-05-15T10:14:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-15T10:16:31.477-07:00</updated><title type='text'>spatula, 3 cars, 1 rock  &amp; indiana jones</title><content type='html'>Those are the items I found while cleaning my fridge.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-4493119123499783517?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/4493119123499783517/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=4493119123499783517' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/4493119123499783517'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/4493119123499783517'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2009/05/spatula-3-cars-1-rock-indiana-jones.html' title='spatula, 3 cars, 1 rock  &amp; indiana jones'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-6942742205504583359</id><published>2009-05-08T07:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-08T07:50:03.295-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Who knew?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.kokomotribune.com/obituaries/local_story_125225852.html"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kokomo&lt;/span&gt; Tribune; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Kokomo&lt;/span&gt;, Indiana - Robert Lamar Miller&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is one of my favorite obits. I wonder if his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;roommates&lt;/span&gt; in the nursing home knew who they were sharing a space with.  I wonder if his neighbors knew he loved to travel and had seen more than most of us will experience. I wonder if the people he loved took advantage of the lessons he learned?  I adore the way his marrige is described.  I wonder if after all the years of his life, Robert Lamar Miller, still told his story.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-6942742205504583359?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.kokomotribune.com/obituaries/local_story_125225852.html' title='Who knew?'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/6942742205504583359/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=6942742205504583359' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/6942742205504583359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/6942742205504583359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2009/05/who-knew.html' title='Who knew?'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-2306704505251542539</id><published>2009-04-27T09:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-27T09:23:10.929-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Good to meet you, Elmer</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.kokomotribune.com/obituaries/local_story_115192151.html"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kokomo&lt;/span&gt; Tribune; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Kokomo&lt;/span&gt;, Indiana - Elmer Herman Oaks Sr.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is no easy way to break this too you.....but I like reading the obits.  Just the people who die when they are up there in age. I think older folks are a source of knowledge you can't find in a book.  I found this obit today and I thought this would be a man I would like to know, he could have been a rotten old coot but for my purposes he is just someone I would have loved to sit down and talk to. It seems like he lived a very hard working, interesting life.  Older people usually have the best names too, names that have just gone out of style. Check this guy out! imagine the stories he could tell.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-2306704505251542539?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.kokomotribune.com/obituaries/local_story_115192151.html' title='Good to meet you, Elmer'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/2306704505251542539/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=2306704505251542539' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/2306704505251542539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/2306704505251542539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2009/04/good-to-meet-you-elmer.html' title='Good to meet you, Elmer'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-7746563648606218885</id><published>2009-04-20T04:30:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-20T05:01:24.680-07:00</updated><title type='text'>weekend movie quotes</title><content type='html'>Cold Mountain:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They made the weather then they stand outside and say shit it's raining&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's so full of manure, we could plant him and grow another one&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will Ferell:&lt;br /&gt;You are a smelly pirate hooker&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear tiny Jesus, with your golden, fleece diapers, with your tiny fat balled up fist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last of the Mohicans:&lt;br /&gt;Someday I think you and I are going to have a serious disagreement&lt;br /&gt;No, you submit, do you hear? You be strong, you survive, you say alive, no matter what occurs! I will find you, no matter how long it takes, now matter how far. I will find you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-7746563648606218885?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/7746563648606218885/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=7746563648606218885' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/7746563648606218885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/7746563648606218885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2009/04/weekend-movie-quotes.html' title='weekend movie quotes'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-6788580373519647178</id><published>2009-04-16T05:12:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-16T05:34:09.966-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Susan Boyle'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Entertainment'/><title type='text'>Meet the spectacle of the day-Susan Boyle</title><content type='html'>Susan Boyle, I think this story is awful. Oh everyone is talking about it under the guise of she has a great voice but the reality of it is that people are saying that Susan, in the package she was born in, is totally unacceptable and how much they are taken back by her voice, basically an ugly candy with a nice beautiful center. How much is damage is being done to this woman with all the air time discussions? The focus is now removed from her voice. Blogs a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;blazin'&lt;/span&gt; ,talking about not judging the standard book by it's cover. They are in a sense saying, hey you- &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;British&lt;/span&gt; girl, you are ugly and we are &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;surprised&lt;/span&gt; you could do that. As if talent can only come in a certain form. Why isn't the discussion about her talent? So, we as a society have learned how to take a really great moment and throw rocks at it. The arrogance we show in declaring a person's value is amazing. Let's be honest, we are turning this woman's proud moment into a freak show. In the end, I think it will be interesting to see what happens to her music career. Will she be given the opportunity to use her obvious gift? It doesn't look promising- but then again isn't that what started this whole business?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-6788580373519647178?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/6788580373519647178/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=6788580373519647178' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/6788580373519647178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/6788580373519647178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2009/04/meet-spectacle-of-day.html' title='Meet the spectacle of the day-Susan Boyle'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-1542758110204549580</id><published>2009-03-18T05:23:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-18T05:26:51.456-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-1542758110204549580?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/1542758110204549580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=1542758110204549580' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/1542758110204549580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/1542758110204549580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2009/03/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-5406979255739369257</id><published>2009-01-21T12:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-21T12:41:23.399-08:00</updated><title type='text'>8 things people don't know about me</title><content type='html'>Becca on the first hundred posted 33 things people don't know about her. I guess I am just not that fascinating or I tell my business too much either way I could only come up with 8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I play the piano very well,&lt;br /&gt;2. I can arrange music, direct a choir and can play just about anything by ear&lt;br /&gt;3.  I can't make a pork roast taste the way I want it too, I have given up- but should the pork    roast decided to sing a few notes, I can tell you what note it is&lt;br /&gt;4. Can't stand the texture of pears&lt;br /&gt;5. Have never seen ET&lt;br /&gt;6. I have watched the Last of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Mohegans&lt;/span&gt; 15 times, P.S. I love you  5&lt;br /&gt;7.  Can't stand to have painted finger nails&lt;br /&gt;8.  Can't stand to be touched by other people's feet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-5406979255739369257?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/5406979255739369257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=5406979255739369257' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/5406979255739369257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/5406979255739369257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2009/01/8-things-people-dont-know-about-me.html' title='8 things people don&apos;t know about me'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-732582149501793614</id><published>2009-01-21T07:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-21T07:59:27.462-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Big hats and blowing noses</title><content type='html'>I wouldn't call the swearing in of our president that entertaining. Although I can appreciate the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;significance&lt;/span&gt; of the moment, I can really appreciate the following:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aretha's Hat-  An Aretha present all wrapped up with a pretty bow. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reporters: Resort to cliche's: A new &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;sheriff&lt;/span&gt; in town is but one journalistic gold nugget  they used yesterday, but they say it with such flair, they almost make you believe that they just made it up themselves and if it doesn't garner comments from their reporter friends they will used it again, and again. Like a circus monkey waiting for applause. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Flag Hats:  I saw quite a few audience members on the lawn with flags stuck to both  sides of their hats. Nothing says importance like patriotic &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;paraphernalia&lt;/span&gt; glued to the side of a hat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People will sit for hours and watch other people get in and out of cars and climb up and down the stairs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The actual swearing in is rather quick and anti-climatic. I wanted tears from someone, I got nothing. I did however get to see George Sr, blow his nose, which pretty looked the same way I blow mine, so again nothing exciting.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-732582149501793614?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/732582149501793614/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=732582149501793614' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/732582149501793614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/732582149501793614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2009/01/big-hats-and-blowing-noses.html' title='Big hats and blowing noses'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-8687709286660711532</id><published>2009-01-12T06:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-12T07:09:44.305-08:00</updated><title type='text'>That family that pukes together</title><content type='html'>It's had been almost three years since our last family stomach bug weekend.  We took advantage of the cold weather and decided to stay inside and throw-up for a grand total of 26 times between three of us. Please note that this total does not include trips to the bathroom for other &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;unpleasantness&lt;/span&gt;.  I have determined that the longest distance from point A to B is my bedroom to the bathroom. Last time, the bathroom was right in my bedroom, but not this time. If you are lucky enough to have a master bedroom with a bath attached, I covet your space. Reason number #51 it is time to buy a new house.  It is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;extremely&lt;/span&gt; humbling to call your babysitter and ask her to bring over some sprite and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Gatorade&lt;/span&gt; but as the two adults could not stand up and the five year old doesn't drive, we had no choice. What is worse the five year old has a raging case of strep on top of his stomach bug. He spend the last two weeks getting sick because of strep and the past weekend getting sick from a virus. He has lost 3 pounds which he &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;definitely&lt;/span&gt; could not afford to do. I on the other had have managed to purge myself of 5 pounds with I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;definitely&lt;/span&gt; had in savings to spend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-8687709286660711532?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/8687709286660711532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=8687709286660711532' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/8687709286660711532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/8687709286660711532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2009/01/that-family-that-pukes-together.html' title='That family that pukes together'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-5596728988731340779</id><published>2009-01-02T08:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-02T08:52:01.204-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Stop saying that</title><content type='html'>Happy birthday Jesus&lt;br /&gt;the office of presidential elect - read of previous post, its a staples office podium with a made up seal, sprinkle in some fairy dust and you have a new official office.&lt;br /&gt;Any variation of Obama&lt;br /&gt;crisis&lt;br /&gt;downturn&lt;br /&gt;economy&lt;br /&gt;destroyed&lt;br /&gt;mortgage&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PLEASE START USING THESE WORDS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;porcupine-it's not used that often, and it is fun to say; Think "the office of porcupine elect"&lt;br /&gt;sprinklyspackle&lt;br /&gt;upsidewards&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you, sprinklyspackle porcupine&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-5596728988731340779?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/5596728988731340779/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=5596728988731340779' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/5596728988731340779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/5596728988731340779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2009/01/stop-saying-that.html' title='Stop saying that'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-3876722528281292353</id><published>2008-12-31T08:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-31T12:29:08.500-08:00</updated><title type='text'>God is up to nothing</title><content type='html'>While on a milk run to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;wallytown&lt;/span&gt;, The title of a book "God is up to something excellent" got my attention. My thought? What if God is up to nothing. What if what is, really is- just is. In my mind, offering people  God has a plan as an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;explanation&lt;/span&gt; for anything is  trite and dangerous. I like the what is, is- idea.  What if we are all here just because of the mechanics of creation that was  set in motion? maybe this thought should trouble me but it just doesn't.  I am comfortable with my place in the universe.  Good things happen to people who don't deserve it and Bad things happen to people who don't deserve it.  It just is. I think our "purpose" is to grasp our own humanity and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;frailty&lt;/span&gt;, try to extend the hand of mercy and forgiveness and laugh is much a possible, cry when &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;necessary&lt;/span&gt; and keep moving until this part of life is over.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-3876722528281292353?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/3876722528281292353/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=3876722528281292353' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/3876722528281292353'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/3876722528281292353'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/12/god-is-up-to-nothing.html' title='God is up to nothing'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-4149753993863044448</id><published>2008-12-19T04:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-19T04:59:31.628-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Time to P</title><content type='html'>I have enjoyed my semi-vacation from all things electronic.  Is it possible to experience internet peer pressure or in my case blog pressure? I think so.  So, I have decided to blog once in a while instead of trying to come up with something clever to say.  The truth is I'm only amusing in short spurts and sometimes only to myself.  So....what is my observation thus far?  I don't recall    any other president creating his own office. It's like a pretend game of president that a  five year old decided to play complete with  a podium and presidential elect seal? Really now, what power does he have at this point? We are all just going along with it.   My five year old plays like this sometimes, He pretends to be a super hero policeman and we all go along with it -being sent to jail and then rescued all at the same time.  That is all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-4149753993863044448?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/4149753993863044448/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=4149753993863044448' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/4149753993863044448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/4149753993863044448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/12/time-to-p.html' title='Time to P'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-2527821162122870770</id><published>2008-09-23T06:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-23T06:55:12.780-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Done for now</title><content type='html'>I'm done blogging-for now.  I feel chained to my e-mail, my blog &amp;amp; and all things computer. I don't like it, I'm considering getting rid of my cell phone or going to emergency only usage.  My life was much more peaceful and serene without all the noise.  When I was first married, we went for almost a year without cable &amp;amp;  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Internet&lt;/span&gt;.  I slept a lot better.  I may check in from time to time but not anytime soon. Have a good one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-2527821162122870770?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/2527821162122870770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=2527821162122870770' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/2527821162122870770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/2527821162122870770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/09/done-for-now.html' title='Done for now'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-3768149571294520715</id><published>2008-09-18T06:15:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-18T06:38:25.347-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><title type='text'>Nature vs Nurture</title><content type='html'>For all you sensitive people, I am going to be using some clinical words, so just cover your eyes. Yesterday, on my way to take my 5 year old to the store, my son said Girls (wait for it.....) don't have a penis, they have a vagina.  I said yes that's right. I was hoping the conversation would end there but it did not.  He continued on with the v-jay jay, pondering.  Can you see a vagina when your naked, I said yes. Then, he said in his best distraught voice -I'm never going to see a vagina, hey maybe someone will wear a vagina costume at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Halloween&lt;/span&gt;.       My vote goes to nature.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-3768149571294520715?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/3768149571294520715/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=3768149571294520715' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/3768149571294520715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/3768149571294520715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/09/nature-vs-nurture.html' title='Nature vs Nurture'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-3220685320561389061</id><published>2008-09-15T06:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-15T06:20:34.442-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I have never been pt 2</title><content type='html'>I have never been kissed by a little person&lt;br /&gt;I have never kicked a giant in the face&lt;br /&gt;I have never eaten chicken off the bone&lt;br /&gt;I have never been shark bait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.local6.com/news/17472459/detail.html"&gt;Record-Tying Shark Bite Reported - Orlando News Story - &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;WKMG&lt;/span&gt; Orlando&lt;/a&gt;: "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;VOLUSIA&lt;/span&gt; COUNTY, Fla. -- A record-tying shark bite was reported in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Volusia&lt;/span&gt; County Sunday.&lt;br /&gt;A 32-year-old man was knocked over by a wave in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Ormond&lt;/span&gt; Beach and then bitten on the foot by the shark Sunday, officials said.&lt;br /&gt;The victim was able to drive himself to the hospital for treatment."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-3220685320561389061?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.local6.com/news/17472459/detail.html' title='Things I have never been pt 2'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/3220685320561389061/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=3220685320561389061' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/3220685320561389061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/3220685320561389061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/09/things-i-have-never-been-pt-2.html' title='Things I have never been pt 2'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-3812828844251167603</id><published>2008-09-15T05:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-15T06:02:13.703-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Did you know....?</title><content type='html'>That ants will consume Tylenol? I do. This morning after putting the little guy down for a nap, I went to the kitchen and there on the counter was a bottle of grape flavored Tylenol (on its side) covered by little busy ants. Instead of grabbing for the bug spray and cleaner, I just watched.  I was really &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;surprised&lt;/span&gt; that they didn't get bogged down with the goop and even more &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;surprised&lt;/span&gt; that Ants get headaches and fever.  I'm not sure of the dosage but I'm pretty confident that about 200+ ants will experience some type of liver damage.  If cirosis doesn't get them then the Atom bomb I am about to spray on them will.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-3812828844251167603?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/3812828844251167603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=3812828844251167603' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/3812828844251167603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/3812828844251167603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/09/did-you-know.html' title='Did you know....?'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-1540121493876402331</id><published>2008-09-02T06:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-02T07:11:58.716-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Running angst and other superior exits</title><content type='html'>When did superior exits go out of style? This morning I was watching the Waltons (as in good night,  John Boy) In this episode, one of the girls ran out of a party to her room.  I don't recall ever being so upset that I would run out of a room. I think it would just call attention to a very uncomfortable moment, plus everyone would know you were upset. Then, they would all dialog about the possible reasons you were upset. Perhaps, you weren't upset at all but just like to run from room to room, just think of all the explanations you would have to give. Which would kill your fun as well as slowing the running pace way down.  The idea of using running away as a vehicle for emotional expression is not very useful. First, an elevator is out of the question and if you're in a vehicle, you would have to  choose your terain and timing very carefully. The slow down  would take the edge off the flair and ruin the suprise element plus we all know the dangers of the wild. Consider the creatures of the forest. We would not like them to run through our living room, no matter how mad they were. It's all about mutal respect, my friends.  In additon, bears.... they lack empathy and they don't care if your upset. I want to be a part of the solution so I have though of a more productive exit.   I suggest that instead of running out of a room,  we should  just stand and turn circles. It's more attention getting and have you ever tried not laughing while spontaneoulsy spining round and round? Not possible, its a win/ win.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-1540121493876402331?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/1540121493876402331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=1540121493876402331' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/1540121493876402331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/1540121493876402331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/09/running-angst-and-other-superior-exits.html' title='Running angst and other superior exits'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-4143875627580984</id><published>2008-08-27T21:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-27T22:05:08.033-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dating'/><title type='text'>Dating Scrotum, gay guys, and breeders</title><content type='html'>I went on  a date with a guy named Mark, I later found out his nickname was Scrotum. &lt;br /&gt;3 guys I dated for short period of time, were in fact gay.&lt;br /&gt;2 guys I were crazy about got other girls pregnant while dating me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So at last tally, 1 scrotum, 3 not &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;hetro&lt;/span&gt;, 2 johnny &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;spreadyourseed&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-4143875627580984?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/4143875627580984/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=4143875627580984' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/4143875627580984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/4143875627580984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/08/dating-scrotum-gay-guys-and-breeders.html' title='Dating Scrotum, gay guys, and breeders'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-4964023680096395628</id><published>2008-08-27T20:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-27T20:51:15.374-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='politics'/><title type='text'>the genius of teletubbies</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Obama&lt;/span&gt; will accept the nomination &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;tomorrow&lt;/span&gt;. Is there another way that this was going to go? Is anyone confused and in suspense about his decision. Are there little democrats glued to the recliners, just waiting. What if he says....maybe? I think they should take a lesson from the the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;teletubby&lt;/span&gt; play book. You see,  when they want to rehash something, they shout again, again and the story that just played, starts up. It is clever, I mean it fills time, doesn't cost extra money to make and the kids like it. So I say, they should just replay the past weeks when Big O said,  I have won the nomination, I want to be president, that's a yes isn't it?  What if Hillary refused to accept he has won and delivers her own acceptance speech, who would tell her. That's when he could shout again, again and she could watch.  Problem solved, thanks &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;teletubbies&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-4964023680096395628?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/4964023680096395628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=4964023680096395628' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/4964023680096395628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/4964023680096395628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/08/genius-of-teletubbies.html' title='the genius of teletubbies'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-4322322465130601815</id><published>2008-08-26T16:55:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-26T16:58:09.402-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='New blog roll'/><title type='text'>The first hundred</title><content type='html'>Check out this new blogger.  Give her a shout and you can say you knew her when. I think she's gonna have a big crowd before long.  Unlike me, who scrapes by on a few crumbs.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-4322322465130601815?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/4322322465130601815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=4322322465130601815' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/4322322465130601815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/4322322465130601815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/08/first-hundred.html' title='The first hundred'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-8915551142267017872</id><published>2008-08-26T06:11:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-26T06:27:30.425-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><title type='text'>Parents</title><content type='html'>My husband's car would not start this morning. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;GRRRR&lt;/span&gt;. I was grumpy because I know what my day has now turned into.  We will have to load up the whole family,  drop my son off at school, then drop my husband off at work,  then come home. At 2:30, I will pick up my son, come back home for 1 1/2 hours then load two kids back into my chariot and pick Craig back up from work. In between, I will call AAA, they will tow his car, I will wait for the garage to call.   BUT, as I am dropping off my 5 year old at school, Craig gets out of the car to walk him in. Just as they reach the door, I hear my little guy tell his dad to walk behind  him because he is learning the way. In one of the rare moments of clarity, I understand that our purpose as parents is to walk with our children until they ask us to walk behind them and follow.  Is there any higher purpose in life? Is there any greater reward than the moment when they ask us to follow. I don't think so.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-8915551142267017872?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/8915551142267017872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=8915551142267017872' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/8915551142267017872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/8915551142267017872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/08/parents.html' title='Parents'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-1760422287944805590</id><published>2008-08-19T14:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-19T14:22:28.339-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Project #1,</title><content type='html'>Find the camera. My camera has gone MIA, I know one little boy who &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;probably&lt;/span&gt; has first hand knowledge of its whereabouts but is refusing to talk.  I have to take total responsibility for that because I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;didn't&lt;/span&gt; put it back where........This leads me to project #1,  Clean out the closets, add some more containers, label them. I think I might be able to keep track of my stuff.  A major victory this week, I have cooked every night since Sunday. This is a big deal for me. I finally figured out that the reason I did not like to cook every night was the clean up. Now my husband and oldest son take care of that.  Happy days for me.   We have been in the process of  remodeling our house since we moved in (3 years ago). I am pleased to announce that we are almost done with the tile project in the basement and the recess lighting is going as planned, soon the family room will return to the family room and the basement will be a full fledged play area. I refuse to take the boys down there until the bug guy can come and prevent any little critters from being down there.  In Kentucky, we have these huge crickets (called cave crickets) they don't make any noise but they can jump very high. I have seen one downstairs and haven't been the same since.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-1760422287944805590?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/1760422287944805590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=1760422287944805590' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/1760422287944805590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/1760422287944805590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/08/project-1.html' title='Project #1,'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-8576169321104566708</id><published>2008-08-18T06:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-18T06:37:08.315-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Money'/><title type='text'>Yikes</title><content type='html'>I am overdrawn, I made a huge mistake in the checkbook. I forgot an automatic payment to the tune of 272.00.  My overdraft protection will make it okay. What have I learned?  Write everything down. My memory is not up to par these days so I can't rely on my brain to catch me. What have I learned?  I spend too much money.  What have I learned?  stress messes with your whole life. This is not one of my favorite days.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-8576169321104566708?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/8576169321104566708/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=8576169321104566708' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/8576169321104566708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/8576169321104566708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/08/yikes.html' title='Yikes'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-4284860709532340213</id><published>2008-08-08T07:17:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-08T07:29:23.634-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Motherhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kdis'/><title type='text'>Let me out of here</title><content type='html'>Today was the first full day of school for my little guy. I have been dreaming of this day for almost a year. To have a house that can stay clean for more than an hour, down time, projects I can finally get too. A stay at home mom's version of success. I was a little sad at first, now I am a lot sad.  I have spent 5 years with this guy, just about every day, teaching him, talking to him, interacting with him and some days the conversations I have with him is the only other "grown up" talk I get until my husband gets home. Today, it is very quiet. I miss him.  He was ready to go, he has always been a people person. He wants to be around other kids 24/7. My son thrives when he is around other kids and gets really down when he is at home too much.  Of course, like many other first time parents, I think of the nest analogy. Us pushing him to the edge of the nest, giving him a nudge, the little bird would hang on for dear life, only to drop and see he didn't die. That is not us. Instead, my little bird has pushed us out of the way and jumped all by himself. Don't get me wrong, I am happy he gets to start his life. He will be happy, we will be happy.  Right now, I want him back in my nest, bugging me to play. This is good for me because I have at times taken my time with my kids for granted, so I think I have been pushed out of the nest a little bit too. The message for me today is BE PRESENT, everyday because one day my second little guy will want to jump too. I need a tissue.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-4284860709532340213?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/4284860709532340213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=4284860709532340213' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/4284860709532340213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/4284860709532340213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/08/let-me-out-of-here.html' title='Let me out of here'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-1534742344943225727</id><published>2008-08-04T09:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-06T14:55:49.806-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='News murder and mayhem'/><title type='text'>How pissed do you have to be</title><content type='html'>This just in: A man on a bus in Canada, stabbed and cut the head off a fellow passenger. Across the world another man, decapitates his girlfriend, parades the head through town, throws it at police and runs over two doctors as he is trying to get away. Did I mention, the police accidentally shot a bystander trying to catch this guy? I guess I have never hated a person enough to want to make their head &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;disappear&lt;/span&gt;.  What kinds of weapons do these guys carry around. An axe would be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;noticeable&lt;/span&gt; and maybe give the intended victims a heads up (pun intended) and a knife would take a while and if your that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;pissy&lt;/span&gt; you are short on the patience &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; needed for job like that.  Just a thought.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-1534742344943225727?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/1534742344943225727/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=1534742344943225727' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/1534742344943225727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/1534742344943225727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/08/how-pissed-do-you-have-to-be.html' title='How pissed do you have to be'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-6646045997305802939</id><published>2008-07-28T15:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-28T15:48:51.245-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Faith God'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>thanks</title><content type='html'>Thank you  for never leaving me even when I was running as far and fast as I could,&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for letting me choose my own path, even when it turned out a disaster.&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for allowing me to experience such sorrow that for a while &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;crippled&lt;/span&gt; me&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for letting me wallow in my own humanity, only to clean me up and watch me do it again (and again)&lt;br /&gt;Thank you  for reminding me, that it is not me who is holding on to you, but that you are holding on to me.&lt;br /&gt;My arms are not strong enough to hold on when so much is pulling at me feet, My heart is not wise enough to not want the things that destroy me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-6646045997305802939?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/6646045997305802939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=6646045997305802939' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/6646045997305802939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/6646045997305802939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/07/thanks.html' title='thanks'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-3198443703967961883</id><published>2008-07-24T11:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-24T11:38:44.501-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='godfather'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mob'/><title type='text'>RSVP if you want to live</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_wK59c5So86g/SIjJQXn3yoI/AAAAAAAAADQ/OkTHa2w227I/s1600-h/Mob+Daughter.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226648650619800194" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_wK59c5So86g/SIjJQXn3yoI/AAAAAAAAADQ/OkTHa2w227I/s400/Mob+Daughter.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a picture of the daughter of one of the most feared mobsters in Italy. The guy next to her is her new husband. How scared is he? If they get into a fight, does she run home to daddy or does daddy's "marriage counselor's" come to the house? Either way, I'm pretty sure this is a long term agreement until death they do part, which may not be too long if my reference to the Godfather movie is accurate. this brings up the next question do the kids call him &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;grand godfather&lt;/span&gt; and is he the godfather in law. Suddenly my world seems very, very small.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-3198443703967961883?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/3198443703967961883/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=3198443703967961883' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/3198443703967961883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/3198443703967961883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/07/rsvp-if-you-want-to-live.html' title='RSVP if you want to live'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_wK59c5So86g/SIjJQXn3yoI/AAAAAAAAADQ/OkTHa2w227I/s72-c/Mob+Daughter.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-5548029057968032544</id><published>2008-07-20T17:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-20T17:40:28.711-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kids Motherhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='NIght time'/><title type='text'>The song that never ends</title><content type='html'>My night has been like a song that is catchy at first but then won't leave you alone. Why won't my children go to sleep? They are tired, they are crabby, they are annoying me.  I really want this night to end so that I can sit on the couch with Craig. It is a small request but will not happen soon. I call this little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ditty&lt;/span&gt; moonlight waltz #5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Liam: Mama, I want something to eat, Mama I want something to drink. Mama am I doing good?&lt;br /&gt;Grant: gibberish followed by daddy&lt;br /&gt;Liam: Am I doing good? Am I doing good? Am I doing good?&lt;br /&gt;Grant: gibberish followed by daddy&lt;br /&gt;Me: We will shut your door if you are not quiet&lt;br /&gt;Liam: will you shut the door after I get a drink?&lt;br /&gt;Craig: You have a drink, We will shut your door if you say one more word&lt;br /&gt;Liam: Is drink head a word?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goodnight to all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-5548029057968032544?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/5548029057968032544/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=5548029057968032544' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/5548029057968032544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/5548029057968032544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/07/song-that-never-ends.html' title='The song that never ends'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-3003478947645549063</id><published>2008-07-17T06:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-17T06:52:15.458-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='heartbreak'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>Walk with me.</title><content type='html'>My new found blogging buddy, Heidi is crawling a tough path right now.   Her road is stirring reflections in me. What do you do when the person you loved with, dreamed with and stood hand in hand, while the firing squad loaded the guns, is no longer on your left.  Imagine being the object of ridicule, with tons of people waiting and most likely rejoicing over your loss.  Put yourself in the place of the person standing there bleeding, with open sores just looking for a place to feel safe. What could you say to that person that would help in the least?  I can't think of a single syllable that would ease that kind of suffering.  I would like to paint a picture of what I would like to be to others.  A silent walking partner, that follows in the distance, ready to pick you up, dust you off and continue following behind to make sure you get where your want to go safely. I won't tell you what direction to take or how to get there. I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;wouldn't&lt;/span&gt; possibly consider telling you how I got there last time.  So, look behind you and you will see me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-3003478947645549063?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/3003478947645549063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=3003478947645549063' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/3003478947645549063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/3003478947645549063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/07/walk-with-me.html' title='Walk with me.'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-2865989715465629953</id><published>2008-07-10T06:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-10T07:17:25.220-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='raising boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='motherhhod'/><title type='text'>Run, Running, Ran</title><content type='html'>Just got back from the gym, I started interval training this week in an attempt to increase my speed. I chase down the release that comes from working out. For me it is an huge stress reliever.  Yesterday, I caught my Liam hanging on the fireplace mantle (for the 550&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; time) He got busted and I said "what do you think I am going to say right now" He looked a little dazed but I could tell he was really thinking.  So, I repeated it for him "So, What do you think I am going to say" he looked at me and said "Booty" you are going to say Booty.  He was wrong.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-2865989715465629953?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/2865989715465629953/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=2865989715465629953' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/2865989715465629953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/2865989715465629953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/07/run-running-ran.html' title='Run, Running, Ran'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-1881125335421305234</id><published>2008-07-08T17:21:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-08T17:33:44.508-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gross stuff.'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Household pests'/><title type='text'>Skin Crawl</title><content type='html'>Here is the mouse story:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a mouse. I hate mice. I wanted to kill it. I found droppings on the counter. The counter, the place I prepare food for my family. To the everyday person this would be bad enough. For the person, like myself, who has made a career out of food service inspections, this was enough to make me insane. You see- mice can't hold their bladders....ever. They urinate as they walk. So when you see droppings you can be sure they have urinated a trail. (there just aren't enough adjectives to describe how I feel about this). I, being the freak that I am, cleaned a sanitized everything and then put all eating &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;paraphernalia&lt;/span&gt; away in the fridge and microwave and plastic tubs. I was down to two pan lids, I filled up the sink put the bleach in. Pretty confident the mouse would not have access to the pans. We set traps, a little mine field. In the morning the traps were still set, I knew a mouse would not just &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;disappear&lt;/span&gt; so I assumed we scared him off. I reached in the sink to let the bleach out and I felt a bump on my wrist. That's right kids, the mouse had fallen in the bleach water and had touched my arm. A bloated mouse corpse&lt;br /&gt;No need to thank me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-1881125335421305234?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/1881125335421305234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=1881125335421305234' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/1881125335421305234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/1881125335421305234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/07/skin-crawl.html' title='Skin Crawl'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-5025393655196341116</id><published>2008-07-05T11:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-05T11:35:11.149-07:00</updated><title type='text'>INTRODUCING</title><content type='html'>That's me on the left.   The hair color is not the original. I paint the roof often.  The teeth were quite expensive. Thanks to Tommy Bahama, I usually smell nice. Don't let the name fool you-the stuff is  delicious  I started running this year and I am really SLOOOOOOOOOW but it is all good. I hate picnics and I'm not a big fan of humid weather.  I surround myself with music/ XM is my best friend.  I changed careers midstream, but then had children and put my new career on hold.  I got married in my early 30's, had kids in my late 30's and will not leave this planet until I am at least 100.  What is your story?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-5025393655196341116?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/5025393655196341116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=5025393655196341116' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/5025393655196341116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/5025393655196341116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/07/introducing.html' title='INTRODUCING'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-3996105041646265760</id><published>2008-07-03T07:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-03T07:57:51.509-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Favorite Things'/><title type='text'>Favorite List</title><content type='html'>This is the short list of my favorite things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coke (the drinkable kind)&lt;br /&gt;Dr. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Scholls&lt;/span&gt; overnight foot cream&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;XM&lt;/span&gt; Radio 24/7&lt;br /&gt;Barnes and Noble&lt;br /&gt;Crest Ultra Bright Night Toothpaste (I did not realize that you needed a different toothpaste for day and night)&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Clean&lt;br /&gt;Josh &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Groban&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thunderstorms&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Pinot&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Nior&lt;/span&gt; by &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Estangia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basil&lt;br /&gt;Dostoevsky&lt;br /&gt;Trader &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Joes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whole Foods&lt;br /&gt;Aqua &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Panna&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What are some of your favorite things&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-3996105041646265760?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/3996105041646265760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=3996105041646265760' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/3996105041646265760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/3996105041646265760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/07/favorite-list.html' title='Favorite List'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-7779362662217322445</id><published>2008-07-01T06:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-01T06:34:22.657-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='marriage motherhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family.'/><title type='text'>The last to know.</title><content type='html'>As some of you know, I have a five year old and a 1 yr old. So.. I've been a mom for a while or at least I thought I was a mom. I'm good at the playing thing, doing stuff with the boys.  I always thought I would just have one. When the first was born it was kind of like friends just hanging out, Craig was working on his masters, I stayed at home, we were poor but following a goal. For us, having one child was easy. Babysitters were easy, bedtime was easy, mealtimes were a snap. The little guy just  went with the flow too. He went were we went. That was then. Now I have two boys and a busy husband. Today, yes just today-I realize I have to be a mom and wife.  The kind of mom I am not. Organized. I have to plan, I need to make lunches ahead of time. I have to think about dinner before 6 or things  go horribly wrong. Gone are the day in which we could pull our clothes out of the dryer and be good to go. There are too many people, doing too many things and I am at the helm. Me! They are looking to me to keep the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;home front&lt;/span&gt;, calm, organized and peaceful. Me! How did I miss this? I really think I need to grow up. I don't want too, she said slamming to door and putting her headphones back on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-7779362662217322445?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/7779362662217322445/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=7779362662217322445' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/7779362662217322445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/7779362662217322445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/07/last-to-know.html' title='The last to know.'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-2486875432681423446</id><published>2008-06-30T05:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-30T06:31:20.039-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Homosexuality'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gay'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='faith'/><title type='text'>To Gay or not to Gay</title><content type='html'>Did the title shock you? Is it a taboo subject? For me it is not. No, I am not gay, I am a woman married to a man. I don't clarify that because I would be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;embarrassed&lt;/span&gt; if someone thought I was gay. I clarify that so that my words aren't viewed as someone who is pushing an agenda. I have a deep faith in God, I believe in right and wrong. I just don't know where this subject fits in and I don't want to know. I believe Paul mentions it but can't find anywhere (although I may be wrong) that Jesus does. What does that mean? I don't know. Jesus ate lunch with hookers and drunks, I don't read him spending his time telling them you are wrong, you are hookers and drunks. People of faith like to use this as an example of God's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;unconditional&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;acceptance&lt;/span&gt; and love, his humility, but don't want to apply it in other situations. I have some friends, who believe that this is the way God made them and have relationships AND I have others who don't know and have chosen to remain single. Either way, I don't care. By the way, if I was gay...Angelina &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Joile &lt;/span&gt;would be my choice.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-2486875432681423446?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/2486875432681423446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=2486875432681423446' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/2486875432681423446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/2486875432681423446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/06/to-gay-or-not-to-gay.html' title='To Gay or not to Gay'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-1418111128745442362</id><published>2008-06-26T05:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-26T06:22:02.845-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='being thankful'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>living gratefully</title><content type='html'>This is my deep thought for this week, maybe this month.... Living gratefully- to me this means  operating my life in a way that shows that everything is enough. For me, there is rumbling in my spirit in two specific areas. Money &amp;amp; Food. I have occasionally spent beyond our means. I shall come clean now, I have done that more than occasionally. Food, I have eaten way too much, all too often. I have lived in a way that says /not enough, what you have given me is not enough. The truth is that I have more than enough, really more than enough. Not in the humble, I'll be happy with what I have attitude but I have the cold hard facts to prove I have enough. A moment of clarity, when my eyes have been blurred and my thoughts foggy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-1418111128745442362?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/1418111128745442362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=1418111128745442362' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/1418111128745442362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/1418111128745442362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/06/living-gratefully.html' title='living gratefully'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-1762360450293985566</id><published>2008-06-23T06:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-23T07:07:17.987-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pictures'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Aging'/><title type='text'>Full steam ahead.</title><content type='html'>I'm still looking for a picture I like for my profile. This has caused me quite a bit of stress and I'm not even sure why. It's a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;picture&lt;/span&gt; for pity sake. Will people not read my blog because they don't like my pores? I suppose it's possible. I know where I am headed in the looks department. My great grandmother was full blooded Indian. I've seen it  first hand with my own mother and aunts. We don't age well, in fact we kind of end up looking like Johnny Cash, really, we do. The Johnny Cash from his last video. In some sense it takes the worry out of wrinkles I mean if you end up looking like another gender, are wrinkles the worst of your problems? Craig is destined to look like the Al from Toy Story II. He is very handsome now and I'm sure he will be handsome forever, but in all honesty, we will end up looking like &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;interracial&lt;/span&gt; transgender gay couple from a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;pixar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; film. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;mmmm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; tasty. &lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_wK59c5So86g/SF-sBw1126I/AAAAAAAAACw/fVY4LdV8MuE/s1600-h/Johnny+Cash.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215076039808900002" style="WIDTH: 118px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 76px" height="76" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_wK59c5So86g/SF-sBw1126I/AAAAAAAAACw/fVY4LdV8MuE/s400/Johnny+Cash.jpg" width="209" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-1762360450293985566?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/1762360450293985566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=1762360450293985566' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/1762360450293985566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/1762360450293985566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/06/full-steam-ahead.html' title='Full steam ahead.'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wK59c5So86g/SF-sBw1126I/AAAAAAAAACw/fVY4LdV8MuE/s72-c/Johnny+Cash.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-4576073980238550181</id><published>2008-06-20T06:17:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-20T06:22:10.410-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='plants'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gardening'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>More to kill</title><content type='html'>I bought some more plants yesterday. I don't know why, I am not good with flowers,  Have never been good with flowers and I'm pretty sure one day the trees are going to fall on me out of spite.  I want to apologize to mother nature right now. I think I'm a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;serial&lt;/span&gt; killer, I can't stop, I need a plant fix.  They look so good. I will take a pic and post it.  A before and after shot. They should create a department of plant services, to investigate plant abuse and remove the plants from homes like mine.  I'm off to drive on some grass.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-4576073980238550181?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/4576073980238550181/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=4576073980238550181' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/4576073980238550181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/4576073980238550181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/06/more-to-kill.html' title='More to kill'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-6558433155368870685</id><published>2008-06-18T11:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-18T11:53:06.706-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Motherhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='keys'/><title type='text'>Did you ever.....</title><content type='html'>did you ever wonder what happens if you drop anything through the crack in the elevator floors? You know the ones right below the threshold. Neither had I until today. My son had my keys and as the door to the elevator opened he dropped them right in that 3 inch crack in the doorway. This is what happens if you drop anything through the crack in the elevator floor. They have to find some guy in the building maintenance department who is in the middle of something way more important than you, to come and lock the upper floor elevators, walk down 5 flights of stairs and open the hatch to the floor and jump down and fish them out.  This happened at lunch time with cranky, hungry children.  awesome.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-6558433155368870685?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/6558433155368870685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=6558433155368870685' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/6558433155368870685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/6558433155368870685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/06/did-you-ever.html' title='Did you ever.....'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-2634673668170390909</id><published>2008-06-17T05:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-17T05:35:20.064-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Children Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='babies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husbands'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='marriage'/><title type='text'>What is wrong with me</title><content type='html'>I woke up at 5:30 this morning. That is not the problem. The baby woke up looking for his pacifier, which we could not find. This annoyed me because I always put extras (as in more than one) back in the basket, next to the crib, next to the nightlight to see the thorns in my side when they are needed- say at 5:30 in the morning. God love the man, but I can not get Craig to sign on to this mysterious program. This is where I lost my mind. I needed to discuss it right then, not in one hour when we would be awake and nice, but right then. After the ridiculous timing of the pacifier debate) I decided to bring up his guitar and music left scattered all over the family room floor-2nd day in a row. I thought I was nice about it, but really at 5:30 in the morning, how nice could I be? This is not my style, usually I just deal with what is- instead of what should be. Having this kind of conversation in the wee hours of dawn is just stupid. I had to call Craig and say sorry (about the timing). What is wrong with me? I'm going to blame it on global warming.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-2634673668170390909?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/2634673668170390909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=2634673668170390909' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/2634673668170390909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/2634673668170390909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/06/what-is-wrong-with-me.html' title='What is wrong with me'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-6264161448042695323</id><published>2008-06-16T07:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-16T07:54:23.563-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Children Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='God'/><title type='text'>Because I know</title><content type='html'>Have you ever thought of how much our children can teach us about God? Right now, my son is in his crib, crying his eyes right out of his skull. He is very tired-only I don't think he knows it yet. You see, I know him. I have been learning his habits for a year now.  Just about every moment in my life is spent watching him.  I can see the way he gets very quiet just before he needs to sleep or the way he starts to rub his forehead on his blanket right before he can't stand it anymore. I also know that if he doesn't rest he will not function the rest of the day. He will be cranky and nothing with be enjoyable with him or for him. If he doesn't give up, he will  be exhausted and unable to rest. I think God does that for us too. He watches us, He know us. He can let us cry because he knows we need to rest.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-6264161448042695323?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/6264161448042695323/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=6264161448042695323' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/6264161448042695323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/6264161448042695323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/06/because-i-know.html' title='Because I know'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-741951743764127492</id><published>2008-06-11T07:21:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-11T07:29:51.434-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Play dates'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kids Motherhood'/><title type='text'>Crazy for breakfast.</title><content type='html'>I began my morning feeling quite peaceful. Then it happened....My son and I have been invited to come over for an  play date. I don't know the people all that well. We have already had one outing at the park and that went okay but I get so nervous meeting people on their own turf. What are the rules for said meeting.  Next, My littlest one has developed a new way to get your attention, we call it the scream and not just any old scream but a high pitched, primal, make your teeth hurt scream.  To put some ice cream with my cake. I had to buy a new phone and I can't figure out how to program it yet. The good news is that I can access my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;XM&lt;/span&gt; from my phone, the bad news is that I can't listen from all the screaming and small talk foolery.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-741951743764127492?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/741951743764127492/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=741951743764127492' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/741951743764127492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/741951743764127492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/06/crazy-for-breakfast.html' title='Crazy for breakfast.'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-2115136101318540530</id><published>2008-06-09T05:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-09T06:09:13.998-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Motherhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='raising boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Voted off the Island</title><content type='html'>This morning my son got really mad at me "You are never going to be a part of this family again" and then took me by the hand and told me I had to stay in the basement from now on. I was shocked, hurt and amused all at the same time. Where does he learn this?  I told him that he looked really upset and maybe going to have some private time might help him to feel better so that he doesn't use hurtful words.  To which my sweet, kind  boy said "I will after you tell me where your going to live now"  I am the weakest link. Goodbye&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-2115136101318540530?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/2115136101318540530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=2115136101318540530' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/2115136101318540530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/2115136101318540530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/06/voted-off-island.html' title='Voted off the Island'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-8107477095243930209</id><published>2008-06-06T19:19:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-06T20:03:06.076-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='News'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parnoia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='TV'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fear'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='World Events'/><title type='text'>I really need to P</title><content type='html'>I really need to P-In the conventional, slang term that would mean to rid the body of (gross alert) urine. But for my purpose and because my name starts with P,  it means I really need to vent.   I drank a really big glass of 24 hour news programming and I need to P.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do we need a 24/7 news program? The networks usually run out of important things to say in about 10 minutes. It's not that there isn't other more pertinent stuff happening in the world, it is just that they don't talk about it. Have you ever watched the BBC, they cover the news from everywhere. They don't add conjecture or have commentators, they just tell what they see and know. As far as I can see this is how the 24/7 news programming is:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They  cover all the big stories but  have 23 hrs and 50 minutes left to fill so they have some actress/&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;newscaster&lt;/span&gt; ask her second cousin on the mother's side to comment on why we should be afraid of scurvy during the summer. Then to comment on the comment we have the camera operator's  best friend from middle school comment on the comment. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think they should just be upfront and use this mantra. BE AFRAID, BE AFRAID, IT'S &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;HORRIBLE&lt;/span&gt;, BE AFRAID.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are not going to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;spontaneously&lt;/span&gt; explode! We are not going to die from mad cow's disease in the next 15 minutes.  The majority of people in the rest of the world, do not sit around  thinking about us as much as we think about ourselves. These are news stories because they are out of the norm.   Please everyone, read a book, take a walk, eat some ice cream. Turn off the TV.&lt;br /&gt;                                                                                               &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-8107477095243930209?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/8107477095243930209/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=8107477095243930209' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/8107477095243930209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/8107477095243930209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/06/i-really-need-to-p.html' title='I really need to P'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-5500807866412640767</id><published>2008-06-06T14:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-06T14:43:11.421-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Marriage family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pf changs'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dinner'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rich people'/><title type='text'>Dinner Anyone?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_wK59c5So86g/SEmrhE46viI/AAAAAAAAACM/wlfuIzoUPlE/s1600-h/PF+Changs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208883028767194658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_wK59c5So86g/SEmrhE46viI/AAAAAAAAACM/wlfuIzoUPlE/s400/PF+Changs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We drove for 45 minutes, paid the babysitter $50 and I would do it again &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;tomorrow&lt;/span&gt;. This is our favorite chain &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;restaurant&lt;/span&gt; in Louisville. I had the cashew chicken, Craig had the wok seared beef and we ordered crab &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;wantons&lt;/span&gt;. The food was melt in your mouth, unbelievably delicious. Now, here is where the day gets even better. My soup (that came with my meal) was delivered after my main course. It was okay with us, we noticed but no big deal. The manager took it upon himself to give us coupons for two free dinners.  We made sure we saved room for their desert &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;snippets&lt;/span&gt;. I don't know the real name for them but they are samples of deserts in shot glasses for $2 a piece. We ordered the wall of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;chocolate&lt;/span&gt; which is a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;chocolate&lt;/span&gt; cake with raspberry sauce. The server thought  we wanted the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Tiramisu&lt;/span&gt; too and made us another sample, but when we said we didn't order it she said, we could have it on the house. So...Craig ate the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Tiramisu&lt;/span&gt; and a few bites of the choc. cake.  Then off to Builders surplus to look for new doors. They had a front door for $5000.00  I think I've been in the middle class too long- but $5000.00 for a door?  It opens and closes just like my $400 door? Open, close ;  Open, close- it's the same. Here is my question. If you could afford a $ 5000 door, would you buy it from a surplus place and load it and unload it yourself?  I would not, I would pay someone to buy it for me, load/unload it, install it...then get me a glass of wine and maybe a snack  and rub my feet.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-5500807866412640767?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/5500807866412640767/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=5500807866412640767' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/5500807866412640767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/5500807866412640767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/06/dinner-anyone.html' title='Dinner Anyone?'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wK59c5So86g/SEmrhE46viI/AAAAAAAAACM/wlfuIzoUPlE/s72-c/PF+Changs.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-4694377611537785546</id><published>2008-06-04T06:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-04T06:47:55.859-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Motherhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='reflection'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids'/><title type='text'>When I go</title><content type='html'>Today I'm thinking about my legacy. This is how I want my children to describe me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loving, honest, strong, resilient, kind, faithful, present, funny, happy, patient, smart,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The question I needed to answer was this: Is the way I live, reflecting the legacy I want? For the most part yes, until I get to the present and patient parts. I have to work, sometimes very hard to be present- I'm a stay at home mom and being excited about kids 24/7 is impossible. Often I wonder if my children need so much because I'm not present enough. Physically, I most always around but to be connected to the moment-I'm not so sure. The question of my life? How can I be present for them, when at times I don't even feel present for myself? Help! someone throw me a cheerio, I'm drowning in a sea of reflection. If you can't find one, just look on my family room floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-4694377611537785546?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/4694377611537785546/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=4694377611537785546' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/4694377611537785546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/4694377611537785546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/06/when-i-go.html' title='When I go'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-8260358509752245307</id><published>2008-06-02T10:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-02T10:40:30.412-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='humor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='freaks'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='`chapstick'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Chap stick fetish</title><content type='html'>I have 15 tubes of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;chap stick&lt;/span&gt;.  I have stashed a tube in every conceivable location in my home and car.  I have 3 in my purse and one attached to a key ring.  2 in the diaper bag (one in each pocket), 1 in the family room, living room and bathroom, 2 in my bedroom, (one in each nightstand). and 2 in my overnight bag. The rest are unopened in the bathroom closet.  It started quite innocently with chapped lips in the winter but after finding a tube in my purse with crumbs on it (my 5 yr old). I decided that I needed to keep the love to myself.  So, you see I have one 1 for children to use, 1 for my honey and the rest (she laughs &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;maniacally&lt;/span&gt;) for myself.   I can't even remember how I bought so many, I never find them on sale, I haven't treked the desert and  don't recall being in a recent drought. I may have a problem.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-8260358509752245307?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/8260358509752245307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=8260358509752245307' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/8260358509752245307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/8260358509752245307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/06/chap-stick-fetish.html' title='Chap stick fetish'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-6161530991984191057</id><published>2008-05-27T12:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-27T12:30:20.821-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Motherhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ring worm.'/><title type='text'>Gross Mom Stuff</title><content type='html'>If you have kids, you  have weird, gross things that happen all the time. Three days ago, my 12mo old had a little ring like thing on his lower back, two days later it is all over his behind. I did some reading and thought it might be ring worm. I was a little miffed because I am neurotic about changing diapers but I took him to the doctor today and it appears I was right.  The prescription was $7, not too bad. What I was amazed to find is that iyou can see a picture of just about any rash, illness or  horrible thing that could happen to a person. Today I found the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Mercedes&lt;/span&gt; of sites that actually made a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;slide show&lt;/span&gt; of ringworm pictures. Now, I ask you. Do you need moving pictures of a skin fungus? I do not, still i thought you might be short on entertainment and want to share in the wealth.  Know of any other "interesting" sites? Let me know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right On, P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.medicinenet.com/ringworm-pictures-slideshow/article.htm"&gt;http://www.medicinenet.com/ringworm-pictures-slideshow/article.htm&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-6161530991984191057?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/6161530991984191057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=6161530991984191057' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/6161530991984191057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/6161530991984191057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/05/gross-mom-stuff.html' title='Gross Mom Stuff'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-6179051414046264583</id><published>2008-05-23T16:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-23T16:44:48.930-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='entertainment.'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Indiana Jones'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Movie Review'/><title type='text'>P's Movie Review</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_wK59c5So86g/SDdQoVb-x0I/AAAAAAAAAAs/VZXNKItZcd0/s1600-h/movie+reel.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5203716548329391938" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_wK59c5So86g/SDdQoVb-x0I/AAAAAAAAAAs/VZXNKItZcd0/s400/movie+reel.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Back from the Movie! A breath of fresh Jones Air. Classic Movie scenes with great stunts with an engaging story line  At first, I was a little worried about good ole' Harrison because he seemed kind of rusty but he didn't let us down. Shea &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Lebouf&lt;/span&gt; was an excellent choice for sidekicks but I didn't quite get enough of Cate &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Blanchett&lt;/span&gt;. I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;definitely&lt;/span&gt; thought the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;prairie&lt;/span&gt; dog stuff made Spielberg look like he was trying too hard (just think Jar Jar &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Binks&lt;/span&gt;).   The monkey scene was  silly, awkward and distracting.   Overall, the movie was a great escape from reality.  I rate my movies on the following, matinee price, full price or rental value or only see on basic cable, saturday night at 12:30  While we did pay matinee price....Full price was deserved.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-6179051414046264583?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/6179051414046264583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=6179051414046264583' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/6179051414046264583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/6179051414046264583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/05/ps-movie-review.html' title='P&apos;s Movie Review'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_wK59c5So86g/SDdQoVb-x0I/AAAAAAAAAAs/VZXNKItZcd0/s72-c/movie+reel.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-4633806549169166765</id><published>2008-05-23T10:36:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-23T10:46:46.163-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='entertainment.'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Date Night'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='marriage'/><title type='text'>Movie Night in the pole barn.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_wK59c5So86g/SDcAyVb-xyI/AAAAAAAAAAc/LpNrywzotCM/s1600-h/movie+ticket.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5203628759197861666" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_wK59c5So86g/SDcAyVb-xyI/AAAAAAAAAAc/LpNrywzotCM/s400/movie+ticket.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Going to see Indiana Jones with my honey. Babysitter will be here at 4, movie and popcorn at 4:30. Yes, I know it is early but hey, by the time we fork over $25 for babysitting, pay for the tickets, buy snacks, it's a pretty good slice of cake.  The only thing we are not too fond of is the actual theater. We are so spoiled. When we lived in Phoenix the ushers wore jackets and ties. There were 26 screens, you could buy tickets on line. It was our paradise. Now that we live in Ken-tucky (for us northerners) or Kan-tuc-key (for the southerners) the theater is in a huge pole barn looking building. Still, we are blown up excited for our date night even if it is in a giant pole barn.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-4633806549169166765?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/4633806549169166765/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=4633806549169166765' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/4633806549169166765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/4633806549169166765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/05/movie-night-in-pole-barn.html' title='Movie Night in the pole barn.'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_wK59c5So86g/SDcAyVb-xyI/AAAAAAAAAAc/LpNrywzotCM/s72-c/movie+ticket.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-7694245523135279474</id><published>2008-05-22T08:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-22T08:31:47.725-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Grammar</title><content type='html'>I just realized that I have an excessive need to use the comma. I know for sure that I place the comma in places where  I pause and when I'm thinking, I pause a lot. I think they add a dramatic flair. So, when you read my blog try to imagine a deep thinker pausing to  ponder the deepness that is her thoughts, covered in baby slobber with a bruise from when her five year old threw his  power ranger at the blocks and missed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-7694245523135279474?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/7694245523135279474/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=7694245523135279474' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/7694245523135279474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/7694245523135279474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/05/grammar.html' title='Grammar'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-1936690053212394386</id><published>2008-05-22T08:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-22T08:24:30.337-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ghost hunters'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='television'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='paranormal'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='marriage'/><title type='text'>Ghost Hunters</title><content type='html'>Every week, my honey and I watch Ghost Hunters, mostly because it is fascinating and the show often just raises more questions which lead to pretty funny discussions. Okay, here are my questions/observations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Why would a ghost be stuck anywhere and do they get to choose. Quite of few of these "spirits" are bound to wherever they died or worked. Now, my first job was in a restaurant and if the rules are,you stay where you worked, I definitely would be an angry ghost. What if you died from a bear attack, do you haunt the bear or just the woods.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Why do a good portion of the EVP's say "Get Out" If I'm a ghost and I can finally be heard, I am not going to send away the only people who can hear me. I would say Get me out of the restaurant/woods and away from the bear.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. I'm not sure..but if the spirit drains energy sources why do the lights on the camera man's equipment always stay on, along with the recording equipment.  Why not the drain the battery on the vehicles and get a real jolt of energy.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is my disclaimer: We love the show, some strange unexplainable things happen. Also, we have our own faith system that explains things for us. So....please no hate mail and don't haunt us. Go Jay and Grant.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-1936690053212394386?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/1936690053212394386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=1936690053212394386' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/1936690053212394386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/1936690053212394386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/05/ghost-hunters.html' title='Ghost Hunters'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-4464452896174966657</id><published>2008-05-20T05:49:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-20T17:29:40.158-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tantrums'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Wisdom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='God'/><title type='text'>Wisdom?</title><content type='html'>Hold on to your seats while I digress into a little verbal tantrum. I have read 5 different blogs (other than mine) today and there will inevitably be one of these "I thank God for the wisdom he has given you"  sort of comment. Please let me say from where I am sitting, wisdom is a sanitized word for knowledge of failure. People are not just magically or mystically given a dose of wisdom, we earn it. Every last mistake, if we are paying attention and don't like pain, we will acquire this knowledge of failure. I guess if I go by my own definition, than I am really, really wise. I have made a lot of mistakes, a good portion with my eyes wide open. The problem I see is that when we put human beings up on a pedestal for being more than we are, we are setting ourselves up for disappointment, As well as cutting our "hero" off from the rest of us, leaving them to fend for themselves. Tantrum Over... I need a nap. Irritation is exhausting.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-4464452896174966657?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/4464452896174966657/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=4464452896174966657' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/4464452896174966657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/4464452896174966657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/05/wisdom.html' title='Wisdom?'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-3271328155082070249</id><published>2008-05-19T09:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-19T09:18:36.139-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Motherhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='raising boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Why?</title><content type='html'>I've been on this planet for a while and have seen, done and thought about doing a lot of things but I have never thought of this.   Playing hi-ya with the dog with a steak knife (my five year old, three days ago).  Booby trapping the family room with the garbage from the trash (again, my five year old) for the dog, while chasing him with the vacuum attachment.  Finally, pouring his juice box all over his baby brother, just "because he was thirsty" So in case you are wondering what the outcome or consequences of these ideas were. I'll fill you in.  The hi-ya game resulted in a Huge gash in my boy's thumb, which meant he missed Tucker (the 70 lb yellow lab, that owns us)&lt;br /&gt;and Tucker was unscathed.  We debated on stitches, my loving spouse said just patch him up but looking back, stitches might have been in order, because the next day during his soccer practice, he pulled the bandages off and bled all over the place, which he thought was pretty cool. He &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;told &lt;/span&gt; everyone a bear got him, He &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;probably&lt;/span&gt; should have booby trapped the playing field.  About the mine/booby trap field (family room) My son had to clean up his mess with a stern warning that the trash stays in the trash can. Finally, I gave the baby a bath and again a conversation with my son about not pouring ANYTHING on his brother.  Now that your a year older,&lt;br /&gt;How do you spend your day?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-3271328155082070249?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/3271328155082070249/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=3271328155082070249' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/3271328155082070249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/3271328155082070249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/05/why.html' title='Why?'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-2652053856362508155</id><published>2008-05-19T08:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-19T08:53:11.399-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Motherhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>The hardest job</title><content type='html'>I have concluded the hardest job I will or have ever had is being a parent. I know that is not news to so many people but I'm semi-new at it. My kids are only 5 and 1 and they are both boys to boot. I didn't grow up with brothers so....the things they can do are at times flat out weird and foreign to me. For me, the hardest part of my job is not knowing what to do. Most everything else in life comes with instructions but not this. You never know if you're doing the right thing or not and you won't know for many years to come. Today, my five year old has spent countless minutes in the naughty seat. Forget all of this, just now my little guy came in and said. "I just came in to see if you want to share my cheetos Gotta go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-2652053856362508155?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/2652053856362508155/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=2652053856362508155' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/2652053856362508155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/2652053856362508155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/05/hardest-job.html' title='The hardest job'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7890857308975721013.post-3386564830805443006</id><published>2008-05-18T09:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-18T09:12:29.149-07:00</updated><title type='text'>come and rest</title><content type='html'>Three words that can mean so much.  Today, I am reminded that there are plenty of people who need to hear.. come and rest. I won't ask you to explain yourself. I won't demand that you give back. I won't expect you to be anything...just rest.  I don't need to know what you did or didn't do. I don't care where you have been or the wreck that you left behind. Just come and rest. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7890857308975721013-3386564830805443006?l=perfectlyp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/feeds/3386564830805443006/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7890857308975721013&amp;postID=3386564830805443006' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/3386564830805443006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7890857308975721013/posts/default/3386564830805443006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectlyp.blogspot.com/2008/05/come-and-rest.html' title='come and rest'/><author><name>perfectly p</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695194327821716984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wK59c5So86g/SYw-IqCeXoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/3wLmskuifkw/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
