<?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-861554054486218534</id><updated>2011-09-30T14:37:12.679-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The unstable mind of an unhealthy body.</title><subtitle type='html'>Trying to take over the world one smile at a time.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>80</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-1303580208213015845</id><published>2011-01-02T08:05:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-02T08:32:51.967-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Car shopping</title><content type='html'>We've taken a break from house shopping.  Husband is convinced it is going to be several months before our house is ready to sell and honestly as much as I hate house shopping I'm not going to push the subject.  Instead we are car shopping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now we've known we needed to get a bigger vehicle since we found out we were pregnant way back in July, but of course we can't do anything in a timely manner, so still no new vehicle.  I don't think we'd be looking right now if it weren't for the fact that Husband got into an accident &amp;amp; we've decided not to fix his car &amp;amp; just junk it.  The other driver's insurance company has been kind enough to pay for a rental car, but that ends soon, so our options are (1) buy a car right now or (2) try to live with one vehicle while we keep searching.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have always bought the cars in our family.  I love to car shop, we've only been unhappy with one vehicle, so my track record is solid and Husband just doesn't usually care.  UNTIL NOW - oh my Lord, I may not be married at the end of this vehicle buying experience.  Why, oh why, has he chosen now to get involved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me give you a little background here - Husband &amp;amp; I do not share vehicles well.  We've had to do it in the past and it has NEVER ended well.  Between our two work schedules and the schedule for pick up &amp;amp; delivery of kids we inevitably have to be in three places at the same time and it doesn't work with 1 vehicle.  I am also one who hates the uncertainty of used vehicles.  I know some people are completely happy with their used purchase and others who regret it from day 1. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, back to our saga...Husband has decided he doesn't want a car payment at all.  He wants to pay cash for our vehicle.  Um, that would be great if we weren't looking at something in the mini-van, crossover market where our down payment gets us something older than what I'm currently driving.  I have found us a nice 2010 vehicle for 0% APR for up to 72 months.  The monthly payment isn't bad.  We'd have to cut back on eating out, but we could do it.  Am I excited about having another monthly payment with the baby coming - no, but I also am not thrilled about being stuck on the side of the road with a broken down junker &amp;amp; three kids.  So, how will this be resolved?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now I am contemplating telling husband to use the cash to buy himself a car &amp;amp; I'll squeeze three car seats into my current vehicle.  Then in a few months I will trade mine for something newer, bigger, safer &amp;amp; more reliable and I won't ask him for his input at all. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just hoping that this nightmare is over soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-1303580208213015845?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/1303580208213015845/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=1303580208213015845&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/1303580208213015845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/1303580208213015845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2011/01/car-shopping.html' title='Car shopping'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-2685898598618415096</id><published>2010-12-03T22:15:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-12-03T22:24:28.449-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I just don't get it.</title><content type='html'>Call me a cynic if you must, but I confess I just do not understand some of these facebook and twitter memes.  For example, the day when celebrities were not tweeting to bring attention to their charity of choice.  How does silence bring awareness?  Would their time not been better spent posting statistics regarding their charity or cause of choice?  Would it not have raised more awareness to use that day to tweet about why they support their particular cause?  I for one learned nothing about what any celebrity was supporting, so in my opinion that was a major fail in the raise awareness column.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And currently there is a meme going around facebook regarding changing your profile picture to a cartoon character to raise awareness for stopping violence towards children.  How does changing my profile picture to a cartoon character raise awareness?  What have I done to raise awareness?  Who will become more aware of this tragedy by my changing my profile picture?  I just do not understand. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone, please enlighten me.  Because I'm obviously missing something.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-2685898598618415096?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/2685898598618415096/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=2685898598618415096&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/2685898598618415096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/2685898598618415096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-just-dont-get-it.html' title='I just don&apos;t get it.'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-7110913028856857534</id><published>2010-10-30T09:45:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-02T09:25:20.230-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Halloween costume fiasco</title><content type='html'>Trinity decided she wanted to be Jessie from Toy Story for Halloween. She also decided her little brother was going to be Woody. She wanted her father &amp;amp; I to dress up as Mr. &amp;amp; Mrs. Potato Head, but we both shot that idea down real quick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last year I sewed her princess costume. She was so proud of that costume, it was ridiculous. It was three shades of pink, silver, puffy and everything a princess costume should be. So, this year she asked if I would make her Jessie costume. Let's see a pair of cow print pants and a white shirt you already own in your closet - yep, I can do that. Enter out of town friends who were coming to stay. First, they were staying the week of October 18th - perfect I can power scrub the entire house prior to their arrival and spend the week of Halloween making the pants. NO PROBLEM! Enter karma - they change their plans at the last minute and they aren't coming until the week of Halloween. WHAT?!?! Now I have to re-power scrub the house, because I have two children and a husband, so the previous weeks super cleaning has disappeared.  Also enter an extra work shift, a school board meeting, two PSA meetings, a training seminar, a trip to the Mall of America and a Halloween party I volunteered to bake cupcakes for &amp;amp; there is no sewing time the week of Halloween. Crap, crap, crap! Did I mention my husband has not-so-mysteriously disappeared during this stress filled week, so he is no help whatsoever?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally decide after getting the approval of one sad 6 year old, that we will purchase a Jessie costume and since we were going to be at the great and powerful Mall of America, which claims to have everything you could possibly need and more, we'll have no problem right?!?! Yeah, I have been known to be naive at times. We start at a couple Halloween stores, but they don't have her size. We try the Disney store, but they outright laugh at us, because didn't we know Jessie has been sold out company wide for over a month. On our way home we try 3 Target stores, 8 Wal-Mart stores and at 7 p.m. Thursday evening (we need the costume for Friday's Halloween party at school, by the way) we end up an hour from home in a Halloween Express store with NO Jessie costume and a tired, hungry 6 year old in tears. We also have one cranky father, an impatient, hungry toddler and a Mom who feels like an ass for waiting so long to find a freaking Jessie costume. BECAUSE A GOOD MOTHER WOULD HAVE KNOWN IT WAS THE COSTUME OF THE YEAR AND BOUGHT IT EARLY. I suck at motherhood at this point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We find a cute pink cheerleader outfit that will suffice in the midst of this crisis. Of course the cost of said costume, which consists of a shirt that doesn't cover the belly, a skirt cut to the navel and two pom-poms is $34.99. Enter cranky husband who throws a fit over the price of a costume he doesn't want his precious, innocent daughter in to begin with, it shows too much skin for heavens sake. At this point I am at the end of my rope. I have spent way too long shopping for a costume that is going to get stained either during lunch or during the Halloween party less than 24 hours in the future.  I am tired.  I am hungry.  My back hurts from being pregnant and walking the equivalent of a marathon.  I inform my dearest husband that unless he wants to continue shopping on his own for a more suitable costume that will make the devastated 6 year old happy he better shut his mouth and hand over the credit card.  I'm guessing the steam coming from my ears or the fact that my head spun around 360 degrees may have frightened him, because I've never seen his wallet open that quickly, not even in the Apple store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After said cheerleading costume was purchased and food was consumed, everyone was in a better mood.  The costume was modified with the addition of thick tights and a tank top to please the Catholic school administration and an overprotective father.  The costume was not so shockingly stained during the Friday afternoon Halloween party.  And on Halloween as Trinity &amp;amp; I were trick-or-treating in the mall behind 4 other Jessie's I hear "I'm glad I'm not Jessie, because I like being unique."  And then my head exploded...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-7110913028856857534?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/7110913028856857534/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=7110913028856857534&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/7110913028856857534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/7110913028856857534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2010/10/halloween-costume-fiasco.html' title='The Halloween costume fiasco'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-6334890471423832013</id><published>2010-10-16T09:27:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-16T10:10:55.008-05:00</updated><title type='text'>And the fun begins!</title><content type='html'>So, if you don't know by now, we are expecting child #3 in early March.  Due to this unexpected turn of events, we not only have to purchase a bigger vehicle, but a bigger house.  Let's just get it out right away - I HATE HOUSE SHOPPING!  No, I don't think you understand just how deep my hatred of house shopping runs.  I do not like going into other people's homes and snooping around.  I hate having to try to imagine if my sofa or chair  or bookshelf will fit into a certain space.  I do not like thinking of who would get what bedroom and what improvements would need to be made.  It annoys me, it frustrates me, it stresses me out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we purchased our home in 1998 I had never house hunted before.  I had lived in my parents house, the dorm, a couple apartments that were chosen based on rent &amp;amp; that is all.  When I walked into our current home (the second house we looked at) I said "This is it, we're done.  This is my house."  It was a contract for deed, so we purchased it on the spot.  House shopping done.  Then several years later we got pregnant with our daughter and we thought it would be a good time to look for a larger, more family friendly house.  We looked at house after house after house after house and I hated them all.  My favorite experience of them all was the widower's house who hung his tidy whiteys on a line in the basement right around the corner from the stairs so I ran straight into a pair when exploring the basement.  Yep, I'm still scarred.  I shiver just a little when passing the Hanes aisle in Target.  In the end, we found a lovely house on a great lot in the next town over that had everything we wanted and a little more.  We went to put an offer in to find that it was zoned incorrectly so we wouldn't be able to get a loan.  A month plus later, tons of phone calls to my agent, the bank, the city zoning people and anyone else that would listen to me cry and our loan is ready and an offer is made only to find out...the listing agent gave us incorrect zoning information and the owners had *just* accepted an offer from another client of the listing agent.  Coincidence?  Bad timing?  Seedy listing agent?  I don't know, but I was devastated and that was the very last house I looked at until yesterday, when the fun begins again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-6334890471423832013?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/6334890471423832013/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=6334890471423832013&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/6334890471423832013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/6334890471423832013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2010/10/and-fun-begins.html' title='And the fun begins!'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-7988981403186625422</id><published>2010-05-24T17:08:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-24T17:11:46.357-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A decision!</title><content type='html'>After two wonderful interviews that followed the daycare from hell interview, we have made our decision.  I, unfortunately, do not have the time to fill in details at this time, but I will hopefully later tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are very happy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-7988981403186625422?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/7988981403186625422/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=7988981403186625422&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/7988981403186625422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/7988981403186625422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2010/05/decision.html' title='A decision!'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-1031161522394485428</id><published>2010-05-20T19:26:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-20T19:47:52.133-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Followed my gut...</title><content type='html'>I sat down to write this post and got sidetracked with Facebook.  Now I have another blog post brewing in my head, but I feel I need to let it simmer for a bit or I will say something I later regret.  So, onto how I followed my gut today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are finding that Noah is much more high maintenance than Trinity ever was.  He needs to be entertained or touching me at all times.  This makes it very difficult for me to get any work done.  Also, summer is busy for me, so I need hours during the day to schedule photo shoots and I can't be dependent on Husband to always be available.  So, we are searching for daycare.  The daycare we sent Trinity to has no openings.  I am #16 on the waiting list and they have 2 openings in June and then nothing until September, maybe.  I have been asking people for referrals and calling, but no one has a part time opening for a toddler.  I thought I had someone last week, we had an interview scheduled for yesterday, but they canceled.  Their one opening was filled on Monday.  We had another interview this morning. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a new daycare opening in June.  She worked for the school system and seemed to have it all going on.  I was excited, then we showed up... The outside play equipment was less than 5 feet from the road with no fence.  They have a dog. (Now, in general I'm not against dogs, but put with that many unknown children and you are asking for trouble.)  And...they are smokers.  You could tell they had the potpourri going on and the Febreeze and candles, but you could smell the underlying scent of cigarettes.  We should have run, but we didn't.  We stayed through the interview, where she had absolutely NO questions for us and she didn't even attempt to interact with Noah.  So far she said she had 2 other toddlers under the age of 18 months, but her schedule had an hour of TV time scheduled EVERY morning.  We left and my husband says "Drive away quickly, we will pretend this is a bad dream."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After returning home, I started making phone calls.  I have an interview set up for 8 tomorrow morning and one on Monday.  I liked both ladies on the phone, so hopefully one will work out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll keep you posted, but am so glad we listened to our gut today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-1031161522394485428?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/1031161522394485428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=1031161522394485428&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/1031161522394485428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/1031161522394485428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2010/05/followed-my-gut.html' title='Followed my gut...'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-2779202492999060747</id><published>2010-05-15T11:39:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-15T11:54:31.422-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Table manners</title><content type='html'>I think all parents have that one "thing" they don't compromise on, for me it is table manners.  I teach my children table manners from the time they start eating solid foods.  I've always had a thing for table manners.  I remember asking my siblings to chew with their mouths closed at the dinner table and reprimanding my friends in school for not using a napkin.  Trinity had impeccable table manners for so long because I teach by example and LOTS of repeating the rules.  Now, I'm not talking using different forks for different courses, I'm talking the basics - don't talk with food in your mouth, use a napkin, use your silverware, etc. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Notice I said 'had', yep kindergarten has ruined my child's table manners.  During lunch, the teachers sit at a table separate from the students &amp;amp; the students are left to their own devices for 30 minutes with no guidance.  In our school, the parents volunteer to serve lunch, so I've been witness to the lunch room chaos.  When I would serve after all the kids were seated I would go sit with Trinity.  And I would promptly lose my appetite.  Do kids eat like this at home?  Ew!  I had little girls showing me their food after it was half chewed.  I saw little boys eating mashed potatoes with their hands.  I saw kids wiping their hands on their shirts.  And now guess what my child is doing?  It seems that she has forgotten everything I've spent the last 6 years teaching her in favor of the teachings of her peers.  So, I've gotten tough and this summer I'm going to get tougher.  I will no longer tolerate horrible table manners.  Some things, like elbows on the table, get a verbal warning, but if you chew with your mouth open so I can see the half masticated cow in your mouth, you will be excused from my table and asked to eat at the bar in the kitchen.  I want to enjoy my dinner as much as the next person and I can't do that if you are talking with food in your mouth.  So, dearest child of mine, be prepared for a rude awakening starting in June.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And of course, all my hard work will go straight out the window next fall I am sure.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-2779202492999060747?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/2779202492999060747/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=2779202492999060747&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/2779202492999060747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/2779202492999060747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2010/05/table-manners.html' title='Table manners'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-7375755925523449527</id><published>2010-05-14T19:35:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-14T19:54:45.735-05:00</updated><title type='text'>When I was a girl...</title><content type='html'>In the last few days husband &amp;amp; I have been talking a lot about the differences in when we grew up and now.  We both lived in very small towns, where everyone knew you and you knew everyone.  So, if a stranger wandered into town it wasn't long before kids were herded indoors and warnings issued.  Also, because of the small towns we lived in we had a lot of freedom.  From fairly young I was allowed to walk to the houses of friends that lived within a couple blocks.  Once I started school I pretty much had the freedom to walk to anywhere as long as my mother had prior knowledge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cannot imagine giving my 6 year old that kind of freedom.  Within the last few months I've started letting her play outside and at the house across the street without me watching her.  She has asked when she can walk home from school by herself &amp;amp; I felt my heart stop beating.  Yes, her school is only 8 blocks away, but she would have to cross one of the 3 busiest streets in town.  And that isn't taking into account all the other horrible things that could happen to her along the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When husband and I were young we were told about taking candy from strangers and never get into a car with a stranger.  This was about as bad as it got for us.  We listened and heeded the warnings and all was well in our small worlds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have to be so much more careful these days.  The fear of abduction seems almost mild compared to the horrors we read about.  We have to teach our children to protect themselves from predators online, in the neighborhood, in their schools and anywhere else they may be.  How do you teach morals in a time when pedophiles live a block over and you can see porn by typing "chicken breast" into Google.  How do you teach respect when kindergartners are taking weapons to school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've already had to deal with Trinity getting choked in preschool.  Yeah, that didn't fly with me at all.  That is learned behavior &amp;amp; that kid was never allowed unsupervised with my kid after I raised all kinds of hell.  So, even in rural Minnesota we have our problems.  I think every one does in some way. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realize parenting is hard and I wouldn't trade it for anything, but I wonder what new horrors my children will have to fear for their children.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-7375755925523449527?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/7375755925523449527/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=7375755925523449527&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/7375755925523449527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/7375755925523449527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2010/05/when-i-was-girl.html' title='When I was a girl...'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-5363998631586221803</id><published>2010-05-07T11:03:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-07T11:56:48.367-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Another road trip</title><content type='html'>The end of March and early April we packed up the car and had our first road trip since Noah was born.  Trinity was such a wonderful traveler from the very beginning and I'm afraid Noah does not like even the shortest of trips, so we knew from the moment we had the idea to drive to Colorado that it was going to be an adventure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And an adventure it was - WOW!  The people we were visiting have 4 children of their own.  We offered to stay in a hotel, but they insisted we stay with them.  We have visited before and stayed with them, and we had issues then.  I was nervous for this stay to say the least.  I am proven time and time again - LISTEN TO YOUR GUT! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First off I am uncomfortable every time I stay at someone else's home.  I always feel I have to make sure I don't make a mess, because I hate the idea of someone needing to pick up after me or my family.  I also am always on edge for fear my children will break something.  So, I am on edge going into the vacation and we enter a house filled with stress.  Our friends confided separately to both my husband and I that they are having issues.  However, they don't talk to each other. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second, on our family vacation Husband's friend wants to monopolize his time.  So, once again we go on 'vacation' and I end up doing everything I normally do except I cannot let my children be themselves and I'm already freaking stressed out.  I have no help and my children are being influenced by people who have never been disciplined in their life.  This is why I hate vacations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had plans to meet up with some mothers I 'met' online while we were in Colorado.  This was, quite honestly, the only reason I agreed to this farce of a 'vacation'.  We were going to meet on Friday to go swimming.  Trinity loves the water, so this was going to be great.  UNTIL the drama begins - I will not go into detail because it is not my story to tell and I'm still very angry about the whole situation.  Needless to say I did not make it to swimming and I am in no hurry to return to Colorado.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, here we are again with family functions to attend in other states and a road trip ahead of us.  I am dreading this whole thing, it is making me physically ill and I want to cry.  Okay, part of that may be PMS, but I am stressing out.  Part of me is hoping my husbands time off request is denied so I don't have to live through another road trip.  But at least I'm not headed to Colorado again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-5363998631586221803?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/5363998631586221803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=5363998631586221803&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/5363998631586221803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/5363998631586221803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2010/05/another-road-trip.html' title='Another road trip'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-3574024953583659237</id><published>2010-05-05T10:41:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-05T11:00:20.475-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mother's Day</title><content type='html'>Mother's Day is fast approaching and just like every other year my husband a week prior says "What do you want to do for Mother's Day?"  And again, like every other year, I don't answer honestly.  I say "I don't know."  I do know what I want to do on Mother's Day.  I want to sleep in and then forget it is Mother's Day.  OH MY GOD - did I really just say that out loud?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I may be hated by mothers every where, but I am okay with that, because I personally dislike Mother's Day.  For the record, I also dislike Valentine's Day.  I do NOT need a day where my husband and children are forced to spend money and go out of their way to make me feel special.  I am so blessed that my husband and children do this all the time out of the blue not because they have to but because they want to.  To me, this makes it SO much better.  I would rather be surprised on a Tuesday with a gas station rose than be given a huge bouquet from the floral shop on Sunday.  I would rather get a candy bar on a random trip to the grocery store because they had my favorite than a 5 lb box of fancy chocolates one day out of the year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love my husband.  He tells me he loves me several times a day.  He makes me laugh and he is my best friend.  I adore my children and if I were to get nothing other than hugs, kisses and hearing them laugh, that would be enough for me.  My family show me they love me and appreciate me on a daily basis and I will take that over dinner out and fancy gifts one day a year in half a heartbeat. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, to all those Moms out there that don't feel the way I feel, I hope your Mother's Day is wonderful, relaxing, pampering or whatever you want it to be.  I will hopefully be sleeping in and then doing something as a family, like yard work or putting Trinity's room back together after the makeover or taking a family nap.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-3574024953583659237?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/3574024953583659237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=3574024953583659237&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/3574024953583659237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/3574024953583659237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2010/05/mothers-day.html' title='Mother&apos;s Day'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-8312955200964677718</id><published>2010-04-30T16:38:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-30T16:54:25.131-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Family</title><content type='html'>I can post this, because my family does not know about my blog.  I believe I have posted before about some of my issues with my sister-in-law.  I love her, but I think she is married to a horrible specimen of a man and this has caused a rift to develop.  She has a step-daughter (age 14) and a step-son (age 16) and a biological son that is 6 months younger than Trinity.  Her husband has custody of his son, but his ex-wife has custody of his daughter.  They split the kids because he did not want to pay child support.  Right after Christmas my step-niece got into a fight with my sister-in-law.  Apparently she was rude to both her step-mother and her father.  Her father asked her to leave.  She was angry and refused to visit.  Now my sister-in-law and her husband are bad mouthing my step-niece saying she is a brat, lazy, unappreciative, hates her family, she's worthless and disrespectful.  My step-niece has shown some questionable behavior to the point that a family member who is a state mandated reporter, called to report her behavior to her school counselor.  I hope she is getting help.  I have limited access to her.  In times like these I am so very grateful for Facebook.&lt;br /&gt;None of us are allowed to question the parenting skills of my sister-in-law or brother-in-law.  If we do, they rip you apart and you are bad mouthed for months.  And by parenting skills, I mean ANYTHING having to do with their kids.  I asked the oldest if he had started drivers training and I got a 20 minute lecture on how he was ungrateful and not responsible enough to drive from my sister-in-law. &lt;br /&gt;I am typing this all out because it is eating me alive and I miss my niece.  What she did was wrong and she should be held accountable, but casting her out of your family may be a little overkill in my opinion.  I want her to have a good life and be surrounded by supportive, loving people.  I think it is sad that in these critical formative years her Dad has chosen to turn his back on her.  I love her, I hope she knows that and I wish her nothing but happiness.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-8312955200964677718?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/8312955200964677718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=8312955200964677718&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/8312955200964677718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/8312955200964677718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2010/04/family.html' title='Family'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-8846513699187528073</id><published>2010-04-26T11:48:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-26T12:07:51.649-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Manic Monday</title><content type='html'>I am working again today.  Therefore the title of this post seemed right, since I seem unable to coordinate getting Trinity ready for school, keeping Noah happy and getting myself ready.  However, Trinity is at school, dressed properly with a lunch and instructions for getting home after school (I won't be picking her up).  Noah is safely at home with a capable sitter (his aunt) and I am at work with coffee.  I was a few minutes late, but that was because I had to stop for coffee or today would have been unbearable.  Okay, the day would have been bearable, but I would not have been bearable.  I'm even showered, dressed, wearing heels and made an attempt at doing my hair.  It is raining, so I didn't make much of an attempt at my hair, but an attempt was made and I count that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I was supposed to get a bunch of stuff done and I ended up snuggling on the couch all afternoon with Trinity.  I feel she sometimes gets my 'leftover' time, so it was nice to have some 'girl power' time.  'Girl power' is what we call our one-on-one time.  We've been calling it that since she was quite little and it has sort of stuck. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday we went shopping at Kohl's.  It was fun, even though Noah was crabby.  He was fine as long as the stroller cart kept moving, but if we stopped the screaming began.  This was fine until Trinity had to try on clothes &amp;amp; Noah didn't want to sit still.  I couldn't let him out of the stroller, because he would crawl out under the door.  In the end it worked, but it made life interesting.  Trinity had fun picking out her own clothes and figuring out her money.  She loved that she got to count out her money to the cashier.  I think she was a little disappointed that she didn't get change.  She even talked me into getting a pair of shoes for myself.  I am disappointed that we went shopping for clothes for warm weather and the next day it turned cold and rainy.  Blech, but that is spring for you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-8846513699187528073?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/8846513699187528073/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=8846513699187528073&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/8846513699187528073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/8846513699187528073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2010/04/manic-monday.html' title='Manic Monday'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-1951325742113349449</id><published>2010-04-24T17:20:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-24T17:38:08.272-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Feeling the love</title><content type='html'>I took the kids shopping this morning.  Trinity has been learning about money in school, so I took the opportunity to cash in her piggy banks and after putting half in her savings account, she was allowed to spend the remainder at Kohl's today.  She needed some summer clothes &amp;amp; she wanted flip flops and sandles.  Noah also needed summer clothes as he has been forced to roast in long sleeves or wear nothing but a onesie. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trinity was in charge of her own money and after counting it out MANY times, she knew how much she had to spend.  Off we went to Kohl's this morning.  The nearest Kohl's is about a half hour away.  Not too long, but long enough that Trinity gets bored.  So, here is a snippet of our conversation this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trinity: "Mom, can I tell you a story?"&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Sure."&lt;br /&gt;Her: "What do you want it to be about?"&lt;br /&gt;Me: "How about a frog."&lt;br /&gt;Her: "Okay.  Once upon a time, there was a frog.  The end.  Now it is your turn to tell me a story."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm...kind of walked into that one.  But off we went taking turns telling each other simple silly stories that had us both laughing...UNTIL...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "What do you want your story about this time?"&lt;br /&gt;Trinity: "How about a really awesome Dad and his wife."&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Once upon a time there was this Dad..."&lt;br /&gt;Her: "Don't you mean a really awesome Dad?"&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Right, sorry.  Once upon a time there was a really awesome Dad and a really awesome Mom. ..."&lt;br /&gt;Her: "That's not right, the Dad is really awesome and he's just married to his wife, she's just a regular boring mom."&lt;br /&gt;Me: "So, you don't want the story about your Dad?"&lt;br /&gt;Her: "Mom, I just described my Dad, so of course it is about him."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I was feeling the love from my eldest child today.  Apparently, I am just a regular boring Mom who has the honor of being married to a really awesome Dad.  Am I supposed to be honored for myself or feel sorry for him?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-1951325742113349449?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/1951325742113349449/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=1951325742113349449&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/1951325742113349449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/1951325742113349449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2010/04/feeling-love.html' title='Feeling the love'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-2296470582931697743</id><published>2010-04-23T15:38:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-23T15:48:38.726-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Working</title><content type='html'>I am working today.  A good friend of ours owns a jewelry store and prior to having two children I would help out every Christmas.  He sent his staff to the jewelry show in Chicago, so I am filling in.  A pretty low key job, obviously, since I'm blogging while here, but I am having fun.  I love customer service A LOT and retail sales in small doses.  So this job suits me perfectly on a fill-in, part-time basis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to say, I admire those of you working moms, because having been out of the workforce for so long I find it very difficult to get in the swing of things.  I forgot to send a lunch to school with Trinity this morning.  Luckily lunch was something she didn't hate.  I forgot to send her yearbook order form back, again luckily I taught Art Adventure today, so I took in at that time.  I miss Noah like crazy &amp;amp; it has only been 4 hours.  I felt like I was rushing to get ready and I forgot to eat lunch.  Thank goodness for the tictacs in my purse.  I just feel completely out of my element and unorganized today.  Those of you that do this on a regular basis, I applaud you, because come fall when I am back in school my family will most likely be running around naked and living off Pop Tarts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-2296470582931697743?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/2296470582931697743/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=2296470582931697743&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/2296470582931697743'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/2296470582931697743'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2010/04/working.html' title='Working'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-236629295849180279</id><published>2010-04-22T12:25:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-22T12:48:36.607-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Art</title><content type='html'>One of the bad things about Trinity going to a small (less than 100 total students K-6) school is they don't have an art curriculum.  They have gym, music, Spanish &amp;amp; religion, but no art program.  This is where the parents step in.  They do, however, participate in the Art Adventure program in conjunction with the Minneapolis Institute of Art.  This program allows parents to volunteer their time and teach the kids a little about art.  At the beginning of the school year Trinity's teacher gave my name as someone who would be a good choice to teach.  This proves to me that I am far too nice to Trinity's teacher.  But anyway, twice a year, once in the fall and once in the spring the parents go to the MIA and see 8 pieces of art and learn about each one.  Then we go home, pick 4 days that work with the teacher, enter the classroom and try to excite these young minds about art.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love the way the program works, because we don't tell them dates, names &amp;amp; spout off facts and speculations about the artist or the piece of art.  The kids tell us.  We ask things like "What do you see?"  "How does this make you feel?"  "Why?"  We teach them that no matter how you look at it or how it makes you feel, there is no wrong answer.  You can't be wrong in the world of art!  After spending about half the time discussing the art, then the kids get to do a project that the parents think up that corresponds in some way with the pieces they just talked about.  Some are fun and successful &amp;amp; some are not.  But we are not professionals, nor do we pretend to be and the kids have fun no matter what.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So last week I had my first spring Art Adventure class.  Normally I do this with another mom, but she called and said she had an emergency and could I handle it myself.  The project seemed fairly easy, so I said yes.  The project was looking through a toilet paper tube and drawing only what you saw through the tube.  Straightforward enough, I thought.  These are bright young kindergarten minds - they can handle it. . . Until we got started.  Oh me, oh my!  I had one little girl in glasses that swore she could not see through the tube with one eye shut.  I told her to put her glasses back on and try and she said she was unable to shut her eyes with her glasses on, nor could she cover up one eye.  She ended up keeping both eyes open since the tears were starting to sprout.  Then Trinity brings me her picture, which is well done and I can tell she spent a lot of time on it, except she drew me, her father, herself and her brother.  Um, two of the four weren't in the room.  So, I asked her as sweetly as I could if she could turn her page over and try again, after praising her work of course.  She slunk back to her desk and put her head down - AND STARTED TO CRY.  Yes, she has the meanest mom in the world, because I made her cry in front of her entire class.  I felt so awful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I am going back, on my own again.  Wish me luck.  I'm going to try really hard not to make anyone cry today, especially my own child.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-236629295849180279?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/236629295849180279/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=236629295849180279&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/236629295849180279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/236629295849180279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2010/04/art.html' title='Art'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-3863990086935757983</id><published>2010-04-21T11:42:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-21T16:59:31.717-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I have so much I want to tell you, but I doubt the baby is going to give me enough time to say it all.  So, I am going to meander my way through and hopefully there is a point at the end. &lt;br /&gt;Can I tell you how much I am enjoying being a mom of 2.  I love it.  However, I am nearing my end of the stay at home mom gig.  I am ever so grateful for the opportunity to stay home for over a year with Noah.  I was able to stay home for 6 months with Trinity and I loved it.  I think that closing the business before Noah was born &amp;amp; then staying home was the correct decision at the time, but now I'm looking for more. &lt;br /&gt;The market is being saturated with photographers claiming to be professional, just because they bought an SLR digital camera.  I don't want to spend every moment of my time begging for business and explaining why my prices are higher than the weekend photographer who gets their prints from Wal-Mart.  I want to spend my free time with my family.  I want to have free time.  I love being a photographer and I'm good at what I do.  But I want to focus my energy on my children right now.  Trinity is only in kindergarten once, Noah is only 1 for a year - I want to savor every moment.&lt;br /&gt;Right before Christmas we learned we were pregnant again.  It was bad timing, but we came to love the idea of growing our family and adding another life to our hearts.  However, it was not meant to be.  We went in for a routine appointment and there was no heartbeat.  I ended up having a D&amp;amp;C a few weeks afterwards.  We decided to wait to make a decision until our emotions were less raw and now we've decided our family is complete.  Unless God decides to intervene, we are done having children.  I believe this has prompted my latest transformation.&lt;br /&gt;I have decided to go back to school in the fall and get my teaching certificate.  I want to teach.  It was my dream in college and the dream is starting to surface again.  I am feeling good, very good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-3863990086935757983?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/3863990086935757983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=3863990086935757983&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/3863990086935757983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/3863990086935757983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2010/04/i-have-so-much-i-want-to-tell-you-but-i.html' title=''/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-6464690257413770602</id><published>2009-10-08T15:10:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-08T15:28:02.030-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mommy Guilt of a New Kind</title><content type='html'>When I was little I remember my Mom was the best room mother.  She attended every Halloween, Christmas and Valentine's party my class ever threw.  She was a chaperone on every field trip I ever took.  I have such great memories of picking apples with my Mom, going to the circus with my Mom, eating pink cupcakes with my Mom.  In all these pictures there was also my little brother.  See back when I was in elementary school, little siblings were welcomed on these trips and parties.  And when my little brother started school, Mom went on his trips and attended his parties as well. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here we are today and now I have a kindergartener and an infant, just like my Mom, but somehow things are different.  First, I don't know how she did it, but my Mom managed her time WAY better than I do.  Maybe it is because she didn't have Facebook, Twitter &amp;amp; blogs, but who can say for sure.  I've been asked twice now to help with Trinity's class.  Once was a lunch server and just today I was asked to be a teacher for Art Adventure week.  My problem - no siblings allowed.  I can't do it.  I tried to get Noah into the daycare that Trinity was in, just part time, maybe 10 hours a week, but no, they don't have any openings until June.  June!  So, here I sit almost in tears, because as I watched Trinity grow from a infant to a toddler to a preschooler, I was there - always - for every field trip, for every party, for every event, until now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a plan, a plan for an only child.  ONE child I could devote all my attention and time to, but then we were surprised by this wonderful gift from God.  While I wouldn't change things for anything, I am now plagued with mommy guilt once again.  The guilt that my plans of being there for every field trip, every party, every fundraiser, every PSA meeting, every Girl Scout meeting is crushed.  I now know that the same fond memories I have of my Mom and snowman cookies, Trinity will not have.  Maybe the pain is too fresh, maybe after some time I will come to grips with this too, maybe I am just feeling overwhelmed this week, maybe I am just overreacting, but my heart is breaking &amp;amp; I feel I am not living up to my fullest potential as a Mom today.  The guilt is creeping in and I'm not sure how to stop it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-6464690257413770602?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/6464690257413770602/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=6464690257413770602&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/6464690257413770602'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/6464690257413770602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2009/10/mommy-guilt-of-new-kind.html' title='Mommy Guilt of a New Kind'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-3868471755810489107</id><published>2009-09-15T15:15:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-15T15:47:09.570-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm getting my groove back.</title><content type='html'>One thing about my pregnancies is that they throw my life into chaos.  I realize that is probably true for most people, but all I can atest to is my own.  I feel like I lose myself because I am unable to function normally.  Add to that the fact that just being pregnant this last time was a shock for me I haven't felt like myself in over a year.  Noah is now 6 months old and I am just starting to feel like I am getting myself back.  So, part of getting myself back on track is to start blogging again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not going to make any promises and I'm not going to pretend that I am blogging for those of you reading this.  This blog is for me.  It is my place to express my feelings that I may not be comfortable expressing anywhere else.  You are welcome to read it, comment on it or ignore it.  I appreciate your interest in my life, but these thoughts and words are mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trinity began kindergarten on September 1st.  I am not sure when she grew up, but I look back and realize that I took for granted that she would always be little and now she isn't.  She loves school and I am so far happy with our choice of sending her to our local Catholic school. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Noah is all boy.  He made his appearance into our lives on March 4, 2009.  His labor was a little longer than Trinity's, but still short at 6 1/2 hours.  He is now just over 6 months and doing well.  He is almost 18 lbs and 26 1/2" long at his appointment last week.  I find that parenting the second time has some great times and some horrible times.  I know that we never thought we'd have a second child, but now we just cannot imagine our lives without this amazing gift from God.  He has already managed to climb out of his swing and is a daredevil.  He is not a snuggler much to my dismay, but I'll keep him anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have made much progress on our kitchen remodel.  We still have some trim to get up &amp;amp; a little touch up painting, but overall we are close to done.  It was one long year of construction.  My black concrete counter tops are killer by the way.  If you want to see them I have pictures on Facebook, just friend me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think this is going to be the end of my return to blogging.  I need to get some stuff done before Noah wakes up and we have to go pick up Trinity today from Montessori.  She was missing her Montessori friends, so we agreed she could do their after school program one afternoon a week and Tuesdays are her day.  She gets to ride the bus from kindergarten to Montessori and boy I think the only thing that could top that is if we actually bought her a pony.  I can't wait to hear about her first day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have a wonderful day, smile and ask someone how you can help them today.  It is amazing how your outlook can change with one question.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-3868471755810489107?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/3868471755810489107/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=3868471755810489107&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/3868471755810489107'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/3868471755810489107'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2009/09/im-getting-my-groove-back.html' title='I&apos;m getting my groove back.'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-4475734834402110580</id><published>2009-02-22T16:21:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T16:28:38.883-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Maternity photos</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SaHRIK0c18I/AAAAAAAAAGQ/4gP7wYvMwB0/s1600-h/NedaMaternity_6335.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 219px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SaHRIK0c18I/AAAAAAAAAGQ/4gP7wYvMwB0/s320/NedaMaternity_6335.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305751774292662210" border="0" /&gt;I&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SaHQ92K15GI/AAAAAAAAAGI/ZMIP4uysVp4/s1600-h/NedaMaternity_6320.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 215px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SaHQ92K15GI/AAAAAAAAAGI/ZMIP4uysVp4/s320/NedaMaternity_6320.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305751596950742114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SaHQ2HEto8I/AAAAAAAAAGA/ziKnNrWp30o/s1600-h/NedaMaternity_6302.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SaHQ2HEto8I/AAAAAAAAAGA/ziKnNrWp30o/s320/NedaMaternity_6302.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305751464049484738" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SaHQrNIGofI/AAAAAAAAAF4/IESK4wi1EuQ/s1600-h/NedaMaternity_6287.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 254px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SaHQrNIGofI/AAAAAAAAAF4/IESK4wi1EuQ/s320/NedaMaternity_6287.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305751276695757298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SaHQYW77LLI/AAAAAAAAAFw/UV94hOa4ISI/s1600-h/NedaMaternity_6284.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 253px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SaHQYW77LLI/AAAAAAAAAFw/UV94hOa4ISI/s320/NedaMaternity_6284.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305750952911514802" 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/861554054486218534-4475734834402110580?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/4475734834402110580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=4475734834402110580&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/4475734834402110580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/4475734834402110580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2009/02/maternity-photos.html' title='Maternity photos'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SaHRIK0c18I/AAAAAAAAAGQ/4gP7wYvMwB0/s72-c/NedaMaternity_6335.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-6098206743089965871</id><published>2008-10-27T20:41:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-27T21:23:03.040-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Naive, strict, old-fashioned, out of touch - what am I?</title><content type='html'>I liked how I was raised.  I think my parents did a great job and I turned out pretty well.  My parents weren't perfect &amp;amp; made plenty of mistakes, but they let me explore my surroundings &amp;amp; gave me a stable foundation in which to build my life.  So, I learned from their mistakes, but I try to raise Trinity with the same values I was raised.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, DH &amp;amp; I seem to be the only ones who subscribe to our parenting style.  Not that this bothers me, but I'm wondering if I'm out of touch with how children are raised today.  For example, we expect Trinity to have table manners, well actually, manners in general.  We follow through with what we say, so if she is misbehaving and we tell her 'x' will happen if she doesn't stop, then 'x' happens.  Not sometimes, but every time.  We expect her to be quiet during church and not run in stores.  She has to hold our hand to cross the street &amp;amp; she only watches age appropriate TV &amp;amp; movies. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is the TV &amp;amp; movie rule that seems to be criticized the most.  My SIL sees nothing wrong with letting her 3 1/2 year old watch Harry Potter &amp;amp; the Order of the Phoenix.  My good friend lets her 7 year old watch Star Wars, Doctor Who, Harry Potter, Indiana Jones, etc.  I won't even allow Trinity to watch Hannah Montana, because I think high school issues are meant for an older demographic than an almost 5 year old.  I don't think the humor in shows like "Back in the Barnyard" &amp;amp; SpongeBob are appropriate for her age either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, am I just old-fashioned, out of touch or too strict?  I know that I am comfortable with my parenting style &amp;amp; I have no plans to change anything, but I am interested in knowing if I am the only parent who feels this way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-6098206743089965871?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/6098206743089965871/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=6098206743089965871&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/6098206743089965871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/6098206743089965871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/10/naive-strict-old-fashioned-out-of-touch.html' title='Naive, strict, old-fashioned, out of touch - what am I?'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-7199694664781064952</id><published>2008-10-20T14:49:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-20T14:56:45.770-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I survived Vegas, pretty much.</title><content type='html'>Vegas was a blast, for the most part.  The flights were fine.  I met some new cool people &amp;amp; I got about a months worth of walking in.  I slept very little &amp;amp; it caught up with me Saturday night.  The rest of the girls went out clubbing Saturday evening, but I went back to the condo after dinner, because I knew I had overextended myself on Friday.  Well, after everyone left I got ready for bed, and after lying down I started violently vomiting.  I think in the end I slept less than the girls, because I was so unbelievably ill.  I managed to get through the flight home without being sick, and I even slept a little.  Once I got home, it was another story.  I am so grateful for the PICC line, because I think it is the only thing that saved me from a hospital stay.  I slept from 3pm on Sunday until 7am Monday waking for an hour to attempt dinner (&amp;amp; promptly throw it back up).  I feel much better today and ate an apple for breakfast &amp;amp; some lunch.  I can tell I'm still dehydrated, so I may do three bags of fluid today to get myself totally back to normal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I'm feeling a bit more normal, I will post some Vegas pictures.  We had so much fun!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-7199694664781064952?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/7199694664781064952/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=7199694664781064952&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/7199694664781064952'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/7199694664781064952'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/10/i-survived-vegas-pretty-much.html' title='I survived Vegas, pretty much.'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-5721603792238321156</id><published>2008-10-10T16:28:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-10T16:39:41.868-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm going to Vegas</title><content type='html'>I've had this trip planned for several months, but it has always seemed so far away and now I'm leaving in less than a week.  How did that happen?  Where did the time go? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DH's cousin is getting married, so I sort of put the idea in her head that she needed a Vegas bachelorette party.  Okay, maybe I just needed to go to a Vegas bachelorette party, but that was before I got knocked up.  Obviously my initial plan of partying like a single girl in Vegas isn't going to happen now &amp;amp; I'm okay with that, but I'm still looking forward to the trip.  I adore DH's cousin &amp;amp; her sister (who is also coming).  DH's sister lives in a suburb of Vegas, so I get to see my niece (&amp;amp; my SIL &amp;amp; BIL) which I am excited about.  I don't know the other girls going, but I'm sure they are tons of fun.  We plan on going to the 'Thunder from Down Under' show on Friday night and one of my favorite Italian restaurants on Saturday.  I know I will have to pull out of a couple of the activities, but hopefully everyone understands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course I've been in a panic for two days because my SIL is one of the most stylish people I know &amp;amp; so is DH's cousin.  I have no clothes that fit or are appropriate for Vegas nightlife.  I guess I will survive or I'll just go naked.  That's okay in Vegas right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will post all about it after the trip as I'm trying to get by without dragging the laptop with me.  I really want to travel as light as possible.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-5721603792238321156?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/5721603792238321156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=5721603792238321156&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/5721603792238321156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/5721603792238321156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/10/im-going-to-vegas.html' title='I&apos;m going to Vegas'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-1354384372039144428</id><published>2008-10-06T19:22:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-06T19:44:42.162-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Our daughter's first solo adventure</title><content type='html'>Sunday started as any other Sunday - up early, breakfast, church, Home Depot, lunch, nap, etc.  Little did we know that our evening was going to be far from routine.  First, we discovered our upper cabinets had to come out in one piece, so we had to call in favors for people to rush over and help us remove them.  We are trying to reuse our cabinets, so we wanted to take them out gently.  Second, I developed a clot in my PICC catheter so I had to run to the emergency room to have it de-clotted.  Right before I headed to the ER Trinity asked if she could play outside, but since I was leaving and DH was in the kitchen, I said 'no'.  DH then yells from the kitchen that he let her do it on Saturday while I was at work. *sigh* Okay, I caved and said fine assuming DH &amp;amp; Trinity had worked out some kind of arrangement.  I'm waiting in the ER, which is pretty busy, when DH comes rushing in, looks around and runs out again.  Uh, what the hell, I am thinking.  So I have a friend of mine who is keeping me company when it dawns on me that Trinity must be missing.  I can think of no other reason for his behavior.  She leaves to help him search and I'm stuck in the stupid waiting room of the ER unable to do anything. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Turns out in the end that Trinity had asked if she could push her baby in her stroller on the sidewalk.  DH had said yes, assuming she meant the sidewalk in front of our house.  However, she decided to take her baby for a walk on the sidewalk on the busy street at the end of our block.  Then, she apparently decided it would be fun to visit the park.  The park is about 1/2 a mile from our house and involves crossing one of the top 5 busiest streets in our town.  DH found her and she spent the rest of the evening sitting in the recliner.  She is also unable to play outside for a few days at all and after that she must be supervised.  She also had her TV priviledges taken away for last night and today until bed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd love to be able to say 'I told you so.', but DH was so freaked by the whole incident I just don't have the heart.  The bigger problem I see is that while she understood she was in trouble, she doesn't actually seem to think she did anything wrong.  I have to admit that this worries me.  We have always told her she cannot cross the street without an adult and we still enforce holding our hands when crossing streets, driveways &amp;amp; parking lots.  When asked about why she thought it was okay to cross the street, her response was "But I thought I was old enough to cross by myself." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Call me crazy, but I see lots of gray hair in my future.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-1354384372039144428?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/1354384372039144428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=1354384372039144428&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/1354384372039144428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/1354384372039144428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/10/our-daughters-first-solo-adventure.html' title='Our daughter&apos;s first solo adventure'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-4355825862655550040</id><published>2008-09-24T16:52:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-24T17:10:12.228-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm finally back</title><content type='html'>I have been feeling pretty miserable lately &amp;amp; typing does not help.  I've had a PICC line for almost 2 weeks and it has helped.  I am able to give myself IV treatments at home or at the studio.  So it helps me stay hydrated and I still get to be productive - woohoo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trinity is back at Montessori and doing well.  I have kept her teachers apprised of what is going on at home, so if she has any behavioral issues or anything at school, her teachers know what is going on.  So far everything is good.  She is such a trooper through all this chaos of me being sick.  We heard the baby's heartbeat for the first time in the ER.  Trinity was with &amp;amp; she thought it was pretty cool.  We are letting her come to the 20 week ultrasound and she is excited for that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is construction (destruction) day 1.  We are gutting our kitchen.  We've hated our kitchen since we moved into this house 8 years ago, but there have been so many other projects that needed to get done, so the kitchen got dropped to the bottom of the to do list.  Well, now it has made its way to the top.  On top of gutting the kitchen and completely changing the layout, we are replacing all the plumbing and moving the laundry room from the basement to the second floor where all the bedrooms are.  We are also going to gut the upstairs bathroom, but that will be more of a winter/spring project.  DH is doing most of the work himself.  This is good and bad.  He is very talented and able to do the work, however, he isn't always the most motivated.  We have several projects in various stages of 'doneness' around the house.  We've picked out the new flooring and paint.  I have an idea of what I want for lighting, we are keeping our existing appliances, since they are only a couple years old.  DH &amp;amp; I still have to agree on cabinet hardware, a faucet &amp;amp; sink.  We have it narrowed down to either a concrete countertop or we found this awesome granite tile today that I want most desperately.  DH is crunching numbers to see which is in our budget.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, lots of stuff going on.  I am starting to get more energy, so hopefully I will get caught up at the studio and be able to post more often.  I feel like I've been neglecting all of my friends.  I hope to be better.  And hopefully next time I will have pictures of my torn up kitchen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-4355825862655550040?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/4355825862655550040/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=4355825862655550040&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/4355825862655550040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/4355825862655550040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/09/im-finally-back.html' title='I&apos;m finally back'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-2454545531558254481</id><published>2008-08-25T14:48:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-25T14:59:08.267-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Exaggeration versus Lying</title><content type='html'>Trinity loves pretend play.  She loves to dress up as a ballerina and dance around the house or put on a cowboy hat &amp;amp; boots and pretend she's in a rodeo.  She pretends to be a singer, a basketball player, a volleyball player, a princess, the list is quite endless.  While in the pretend mode, she will often say she is giving dance lessons or teaching someone what she is doing.  She loves to put on concerts and parades.  While I love seeing her be creative and using her imagination I've begun to worry lately.  Sometimes her pretend play leaks into reality.  We will be out at Home Depot or the grocery store &amp;amp; she will be dancing around and someone will ask her if she is in dance &amp;amp; she'll state emphatically "Oh yes, I love taking my dance lessons."  Except she has never taken a dance lesson in her life.  Or while she is watching Michael Phelps win multiple gold medals state "I am a better swimmer than he is.  I could beat him."  She has been taking swim lessons for a month &amp;amp; has yet to swim without their flotation devices.  She also claims in public that she is a wonderful horse rider and she takes singing/guitar/piano lessons.  She has ridden a horse once at a fair where it went in a circle &amp;amp; she has never taken a music lesson in her short life.  I know that part of this is her age (she's 4 1/2), but at what point do I correct her and tell her that actually what she is doing is lying.  I don't want to embarrass her in public, but I also don't want people getting the wrong information.  How much of this is normal and how much should I be concerned about?  I'd love to get opinions from all of you.  Thanks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-2454545531558254481?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/2454545531558254481/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=2454545531558254481&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/2454545531558254481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/2454545531558254481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/08/exaggeration-versus-lying.html' title='Exaggeration versus Lying'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-1312899621913128105</id><published>2008-08-23T20:24:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-23T20:40:38.290-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Pop/Soda/Soft drinks/Carbonated beverages</title><content type='html'>I'm not sure what you call them in your area of the globe, but I'm talking about Coke, Pepsi &amp;amp; all the in between carbonated, sweetened and most of the time caffeinated beverages that most people consume.  I dislike these drinks overall and generally consume them on rare occasions.  People find this odd, because I also dislike water, but that is a post for another day.  Why am I blogging about my dislike of soft drinks?  Because for some reason it seems the only beverage that does not make me queasy right now.  WTF???  I would think this would be bad enough, but no, it gets worse (at least in my mind).  When I have a soft drink I tend to be a Pepsi or Pepsi product drinker or an A &amp;amp; W root beer fan (I make an exception for root beer floats - yum!).  I don't think there is a nastier product on the market than Mountain Dew and Coke &amp;amp; any diet products come a very close second.  Why am I telling you this, because for some reason my beverage of choice at the moment is Cherry Coke.  I gravitate towards it at restaurants, when we do eat out these days I choose restaurants that I know serve Cherry Coke - basically, I am a Cherry Coke addict.  I am hoping this phase does not last long, because I don't think I can handle the long term affects on my body.  And, please no comments on how I shouldn't be drinking caffeine while pregnant, because I've gotten the okay from my doctor and right now we are just concerned about getting any fluids at all in me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-1312899621913128105?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/1312899621913128105/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=1312899621913128105&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/1312899621913128105'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/1312899621913128105'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/08/popsodasoft-drinkscarbonated-beverages.html' title='Pop/Soda/Soft drinks/Carbonated beverages'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-194552414060351033</id><published>2008-08-20T14:32:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-20T14:44:48.096-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Guilt</title><content type='html'>I hate guilt.  I think it is a wasted emotion for the most part.  I really try to own my actions so I live a pretty guilt-free life.  However, I am currently feeling some guilt.  Because I have been feeling so crappy and when I'm not feeling crappy I am so freaking tired I've been *neglecting* the physical needs of my husband.  He hasn't been pressuring me and he even tells me it is okay.  But I'm not an idiot, I see he is having a difficult time.  The problem is that with Trinity I'm pretty sure we only had sex once while we were pregnant and he went like 6 months without sex.  I would prefer not to have a similar situation this time.  This is why I hate guilt, you cannot win.  ARGH!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-194552414060351033?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/194552414060351033/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=194552414060351033&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/194552414060351033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/194552414060351033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/08/guilt.html' title='Guilt'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-113352581587843014</id><published>2008-08-16T21:01:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-16T21:13:00.845-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Rough week</title><content type='html'>I've been a little out of touch and I apologize for that.  This week was a bit rough.  I have been very nauseous lately, but keeping it under control with the Zofran and Zantac.  However Wednesday I took the Zofran in the morning as usual and then promptly threw up.  There was some blood in my vomit, but when I talked to the phone nurse she didn't seem concerned.  It happened again on Thursday &amp;amp; the nurse didn't seem concerned again when I called.  Friday I was unable to keep anything down, but since when I had called it hadn't been 24 hours they told me I was supposed to wait.  Didn't keep anything down all day on Friday and all morning today.  I didn't dare go for fluids this morning, because I had a wedding today and I couldn't risk being late.  So, Mike shot my wedding today while I stood (sat) around looking pathetic.  Immediately after finishing the wedding Mike dropped me at the ER &amp;amp; I got two bags of fluids &amp;amp; some IV Zofran.  I had a great nurse &amp;amp; doctor &amp;amp; I was out in less than 2 hours.  I'm trying to eat something now, then I'm going to bed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-113352581587843014?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/113352581587843014/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=113352581587843014&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/113352581587843014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/113352581587843014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/08/rough-week.html' title='Rough week'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-9145682591023172158</id><published>2008-08-06T14:49:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-06T14:59:02.188-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I am SO lucky.</title><content type='html'>Lucky that I have a phenomenal doctor.  I love my doctor.  He isn't perfect and I've had my issues with him over the years, but overall I think he's one of the best.  He takes me seriously and listens to me when I have concerns.  For instance, the hyperemesis gravidum (HG) has hit hard today.  I've noticed this time around that my stomach acid is high when I feel my sickest.  So, I logically thought that maybe Zantac would help.  I called the phone nurse and after patronizing me and telling me I'm putting my baby in danger by even thinking of taking Zantac in the first trimester she agreed to talk to my doctor.  I admit that I didn't have much faith in hearing from her again.  However, she did talk to my doctor and she had to call me back eating crow and tell me that my doctor told me to 'absolutely try Zantac if I feel it will help'.  As I said I love my doctor, because I feel better already.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-9145682591023172158?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/9145682591023172158/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=9145682591023172158&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/9145682591023172158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/9145682591023172158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-am-so-lucky.html' title='I am SO lucky.'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-7482610716039741529</id><published>2008-08-05T14:22:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-05T14:39:51.523-05:00</updated><title type='text'>He is far from broken, but he's getting fixed. . .</title><content type='html'>DH that is.  Considering that this pregnancy was a great big giant OOPS and I really don't want that to happen again I suggested (okay, really I just flat out told him) that he needs to go get fixed.  Shockingly, he seems a bit put off by this idea.  He spouts something about his manhood and needles and knives or something, but I couldn't hear him clearly as I was heaving my guts out at that moment.  When I pointed out that for him it was an outpatient procedure with little to no risk involved, he responded with "Well, since they are already going to be in there, can't they just tie you up?"  UH, say what was that?  Who are 'they'?  and Where are 'they' going to be?  Does he really not remember the first time, where I pushed a few times and out came a crying bundle of energy.  Do I not remember him there next to me encouraging me even as I puked on the nurses shoes?  I don't remember 'them' with their little prospector hats going mining for the baby.  Maybe I was a little out of it, but I'm pretty sure I'd remember someone climbing in my vagina screaming "Hey, since we're in here, is there anything you'd like us to do?  There's a baby in here, would you like us to push that out?  Maybe dust the shelves, put away the dishes, clean up a bit?  Tie something off?  Whatever, we're in here."  I think for that statement alone he should get snipped.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-7482610716039741529?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/7482610716039741529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=7482610716039741529&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/7482610716039741529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/7482610716039741529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/08/he-is-far-from-broken-but-hes-getting.html' title='He is far from broken, but he&apos;s getting fixed. . .'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-8387764439291130819</id><published>2008-08-04T09:59:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-04T10:09:04.584-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't have to be excited.</title><content type='html'>Trinity is excited enough for EVERYONE!  In my wildest imagination I could not have fathomed just how excited she is.  She wants to know every detail and has even asked if she can go to the doctor with me.  She wants to know how big it is and where it will sleep and the name.  She has become ultra-protective of me, too.  My SIL, who lived with us when Trinity was little, was teasing me and Trinity just flipped out, screaming "Don't say that to my Mom, you will hurt the baby's feelings."&lt;br /&gt;Everyone seems happy for us, but since I'm since not quite to the excited stage, people were looking at me weird all day yesterday.  I'm sorry that I find it hard to get excited about something I NEVER WANTED TO DO AGAIN.  I am excited about the baby, just not about being pregnant.  Give me a few more weeks and if I'm not puking 10 times a day, then maybe I might lighten up a bit - maybe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-8387764439291130819?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/8387764439291130819/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=8387764439291130819&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/8387764439291130819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/8387764439291130819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-dont-have-to-be-excited.html' title='I don&apos;t have to be excited.'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-9034333639590754721</id><published>2008-08-02T09:15:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-02T09:21:33.064-05:00</updated><title type='text'>And the ultrasound said . . .</title><content type='html'>Little blob is due March 24, 2009.  I want to thank all of you for your support and encouragement.  I also want to thank you for not thinking I'm a basket case because I'm having a hard time getting excited about being pregnant.  The ultrasound went well and little blob's heartbeat was around 155 and implanted in a great spot, so they said my risk of miscarriage at this point is very low.  We still haven't told anyone, although I think we are going to tell family tomorrow.  Trinity has been at my sister's and we go get her tomorrow morning, then we have a family BBQ at the in-law's because DH's sister &amp;amp; family is home from Vegas. &lt;br /&gt;I'll make sure I let you know how telling the family goes.  After all look at your reaction and you didn't have me telling you personally "Never, never, never, never again."  Yep, looking forward to that one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-9034333639590754721?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/9034333639590754721/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=9034333639590754721&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/9034333639590754721'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/9034333639590754721'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/08/and-ultrasound-said.html' title='And the ultrasound said . . .'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-8754171459550722988</id><published>2008-07-31T15:33:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-31T15:42:04.401-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Today we find out.</title><content type='html'>Today is our dating ultrasound.  We find out how far along we are and our due date.  For some unexplained reason I'm very nervous.  I had a thought flitter through my head yesterday that this is twins, maybe that is why I'm nervous.  I'm not sure I could handle that news, being pregnant is enough of a shock. &lt;br /&gt;DH has admitted to being excited.  I had to admit I wasn't there yet.  I'm still not.  Is that bad or wrong?  Maybe it has to do with our history of miscarriage or that I know what is to come in the form of all things pukey.  I just can't get past terrified right now.  I thought by admitting it to the cyber-world that I would be forcing myself past that, but it didn't work.  I'm scared to death. &lt;br /&gt;Early Monday morning I was in the ER for fluids &amp;amp; then I was in OB again Monday afternoon for more fluids for a total of 3 bags of fluid.  This before we even have a due date. &lt;br /&gt;Did I mention that my blood pressure has been high this week?  Yep, I've never had high blood pressure in my life, but now I'm so freaked my pressure is rising. &lt;br /&gt;I may have to break out the Thai Chi DVD just to calm my ass down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deep breath . . . in . . . out . . .&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-8754171459550722988?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/8754171459550722988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=8754171459550722988&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/8754171459550722988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/8754171459550722988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/07/today-we-find-out.html' title='Today we find out.'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-4622171570104766710</id><published>2008-07-24T09:41:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-24T10:00:38.354-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Psst, psst . . . I have a secret . . .</title><content type='html'>And it is HUGE!  But I know I can trust all of you, because you don't know any of my real life friends and if you do I know you won't say anything, because that just isn't who you are.  I can trust you, right?!?!  This is big, well bigger than big, you may want to sit down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see, here's the secret . . . I'm pregnant.  Yep, that's right I'm with child, knocked up, having a baby.  I know we thought we were done, too, but obviously someone had other ideas.  We are still in shock, but no one had a heart attack, so we are leaning towards "We're happy."  We are not at "We're thrilled." yet, but this hit us out of no where.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a little background for those of you who don't know my history:&lt;br /&gt;I hated being pregnant.  I was sick the entire time and was on the second highest dosage of Zofran they can give.  The Zofran made it so I wasn't throwing up all day, but I was still queasy.  I had so many IV treatments that I had to have a PIC line put in so they wouldn't have to give me IV's in my feet.  To make things worse, Trinity was breach for most of the pregnancy and was using my gall bladder as a pillow.  They thought that there was a chance I would have to have surgery removing my gall bladder after I gave birth.  Thankfully that didn't happen.  Overall, I was miserable the entire pregnancy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, from very early on in Trinity's pregnancy I made sure everyone knew I was having an only child.  You couldn't pay me enough to be pregnant again, yet here we are and absolutely no money has changed hands.  Okay that isn't entirely true, because the pharmacy now has the majority of my money &amp;amp; by the time this pregnancy is over I'm sure they will own my house, too. (Zofran is EXPENSIVE!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Starting last year I've been having unusually long cycles.  One was 6 months last year and this year it was 3 1/2 months, but I don't deal well with hormonal birth control, so that was out as an option.  We've been using protection, but apparently not enough.  I started feeling like AF was showing last week, but nothing.  Yesterday I had to run down to the drug store for some paper towels for the studio &amp;amp; some voice in the back of my head said "Something is off in your body, you should test."  So I bought a test, peed on a stick, fell off the toilet (I hadn't finished peeing when the positive showed up) and promptly called the clinic.  I have a history of miscarriage, so I always have a blood test done.  My hcg levels are 2713 &amp;amp; I go in for a dating ultrasound next week.  We aren't telling anyone, because of our history of miscarriage, the fact that we are still in shock so 'congratulations' seems hollow, and because we have no freaking idea when we are due.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, there it is, our secret &amp;amp; it is a whopper isn't it.  Now I know it is hard to keep a secret, but I must insist on you not telling ANYONE.  After all, what if my family found out - eep!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-4622171570104766710?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/4622171570104766710/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=4622171570104766710&amp;isPopup=true' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/4622171570104766710'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/4622171570104766710'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/07/psst-psst-i-have-secret.html' title='Psst, psst . . . I have a secret . . .'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-8168084207733481502</id><published>2008-07-07T10:12:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-07T10:33:46.179-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm SO VERY SORRY!</title><content type='html'>I didn't realize I had abandoned you for so long.  Where did the time go?  Oy, I must get myself more organized.  I'm sorry loyal readers.  I really have nothing planned for today's post, so how about I give you an update as to what is new in the life of Neda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You all know about the new baby.  Have I mentioned how much I love him?  He is so sweet!  My sister (Grandma) finally got to see him over the weekend.  They are going to be the world's best grandparents.  I loved watching them.  My nephew &amp;amp; niece-in-law are borrowing a few more baby things, so I have them convinced to come get them, so I can do the 'official' newborn photos.  I'm so excited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister, brother-in-law, niece, nephew, niece-in-law, great nephew &amp;amp; sister's MIL came down to watch our ski show on the 4th.  It was interesting considering I haven't skied since before Trinity was born.  My sister had never seen me ski before.  I managed to get all my moves in, but failed in staying dry.  I biffed both my landings.  It was a beautiful day, though. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our 4th was pretty mellow.  We had the ski show, then had a few people over &amp;amp; grilled.  Our town has an awesome fireworks display every year.  They shoot them off over the lake and they last over 30 minutes.  This year I think was 40 minutes long.  The bugs weren't bad and Trinity wasn't too squirmy.  We got home &amp;amp; Mike entertained our guests while I put Trinity to bed, then I fell asleep almost right afterwards.  I was so tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday I had a wedding that was so much fun.  This group was so easy to work with.  I'm downloading their pictures right now &amp;amp; I can't wait to start editing them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday we had a BBQ at my nephew's house.  It was so nice to just hang out, eat and talk.  Trinity was playing frisbee (she's better than me) with her cousins (who are 30 &amp;amp; 28) and the dog.  I've never heard her laugh so much.  After the BBQ we stopped at another friends house and hung out there until it was time to head home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all in was an awesome weekend where I got nothing accomplished, but I'm so glad Monday is here.  I love order &amp;amp; structure &amp;amp; routine.  Trinity thrives on it, so our lives are so much easier during the week. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been busy with pictures and editing pictures, so I apologize again for neglecting you.  I'll try to be better.  And I'll try to get some photos up soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-8168084207733481502?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/8168084207733481502/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=8168084207733481502&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/8168084207733481502'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/8168084207733481502'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/07/im-so-sorry-im-so-sorry-im-so-sorry-im.html' title='I&apos;m so sorry, I&apos;m so sorry, I&apos;m so sorry, I&apos;m SO VERY SORRY!'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-8898552122980266230</id><published>2008-06-27T12:37:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-27T13:00:39.407-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Favorite Friday</title><content type='html'>This was taken this morning.  Aidan is 6 wks old &amp;amp; his dad served in Iraq with my nephew (who coincidently had his baby this past Tuesday).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SGUqgGhb-hI/AAAAAAAAAD8/KuL11rq7FAo/s1600-h/Burgett_1127.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SGUqgGhb-hI/AAAAAAAAAD8/KuL11rq7FAo/s320/Burgett_1127.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216622474373626386" 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/861554054486218534-8898552122980266230?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/8898552122980266230/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=8898552122980266230&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/8898552122980266230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/8898552122980266230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/06/favorite-friday_27.html' title='Favorite Friday'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SGUqgGhb-hI/AAAAAAAAAD8/KuL11rq7FAo/s72-c/Burgett_1127.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-848247878309446395</id><published>2008-06-26T10:19:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-26T10:26:37.004-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Introducing. . .</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Justin Ray Braulik&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SGOzymPKNSI/AAAAAAAAADU/TUE5VzJeDw8/s1600-h/Justin_0969.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SGOzymPKNSI/AAAAAAAAADU/TUE5VzJeDw8/s320/Justin_0969.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216210475264128290" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SGOz4Q3X5qI/AAAAAAAAADc/MsmwJ-BNLmI/s1600-h/Justin_0971.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SGOz4Q3X5qI/AAAAAAAAADc/MsmwJ-BNLmI/s320/Justin_0971.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216210572606432930" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SGOz-RpRhyI/AAAAAAAAADk/8kr_g03Z-f4/s1600-h/Justin_0976.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SGOz-RpRhyI/AAAAAAAAADk/8kr_g03Z-f4/s320/Justin_0976.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216210675894945570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and my most favorite picture of Justin &amp;amp; Trinity:&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SGO0E99iDAI/AAAAAAAAADs/2DPuHQiWUEI/s1600-h/Justin_0978.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SGO0E99iDAI/AAAAAAAAADs/2DPuHQiWUEI/s320/Justin_0978.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216210790870289410" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister hasn't been able to see him yet as she lives 5 hours away and they don't have much freedom in flexible scheduling, so she is very jealous that I've seen her grandson first.  I'm going to see him again tomorrow, so I'll get more pictures.  Hopefully with my nephew &amp;amp; his wife in them.  I have some awesome ideas I want to try.  He's so perfect.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-848247878309446395?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/848247878309446395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=848247878309446395&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/848247878309446395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/848247878309446395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/06/introducing.html' title='Introducing. . .'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SGOzymPKNSI/AAAAAAAAADU/TUE5VzJeDw8/s72-c/Justin_0969.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-4920286943504184232</id><published>2008-06-25T10:11:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-25T10:14:22.506-05:00</updated><title type='text'>WOOOOHOOOOO!</title><content type='html'>I'M A GREAT AUNT!  I'm so excited, my nephew &amp;amp; his wife had their baby yesterday.  Justin Ray weighed in at 7 lbs 3.3 oz and was 21 3/4" long.  Trinity &amp;amp; I are headed over to the hospital today to see everyone &amp;amp; of course take pictures.  I can't wait!  Life is good. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry I've been neglecting the blog, but wedding season has me so freaking busy I barely have time to pee.  It should slow down a little over the next couple weeks.  So, I'll be back.  Make sure you check in tomorrow to see pictures of my new great-nephew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't believe my sister is a grandmother.  Life is awesome.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-4920286943504184232?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/4920286943504184232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=4920286943504184232&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/4920286943504184232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/4920286943504184232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/06/woooohooooo.html' title='WOOOOHOOOOO!'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-4015045998535443063</id><published>2008-06-13T09:09:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-13T09:15:26.331-05:00</updated><title type='text'>50 Things About Me</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: georgia; font-weight: bold;"&gt;50 Things about me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;1. I am child #6 of 7 (but only 6 of us are still alive).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;2. I am the only one without a common name (Gary, Lucy, John, Brian, Neda &amp;amp; Paul).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;3. My Dad named me (My name means "Sunday's Child" &amp;amp; I was born on a Sunday).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;4. My favorite color is purple.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;5. I'm addicted to Mob Wars on Facebook.  It is the only reason I'm on there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;6. I love my job.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;7. I have my Bachelor's degree in Economics w/a minor in Sociology.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;8. Until after college I was never interested in photography.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;9. Trinity is named after The Matrix.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;10. I have two cats named Misha and Ralph.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;11. My oldest nephew is 4 years younger than me and expecting his first child any day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;12. I hate cleaning &amp;amp; I am bad at it, too, therefore m&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;y house is usually not clean&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;13. My mom &amp;amp; my sister were pregnant at the same time w/my sister delivering first.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;14. I love picking paint colors &amp;amp; I'm really good at it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;15. My husband banned me from buying black clothes once, because that is all I wore.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;16. I hated, hated, hated being pregnant.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;17. Sometimes I think I want another child.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;18. Most of the time I think I don't want another child.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;19. Occasionally I don't want the child that I have.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;20. My husband &amp;amp; I met because he was my college professor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;21. We were both dating other people when we started dating.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;22. We didn't start dating until 3 years after I was his student.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;23. I like to blog, but rarely have anything interesting to say.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;24. I dislike the majority of my family.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;25. I have size 6 1/2 feet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;26. I cannot sleep without blankets no matter how hot it is.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;27. I'm convinced I'm going to die from my car driving into a lake.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;28. I live right next to a lake.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;29. I cannot eat yogurt with a metal spoon.  It makes me gag.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;30. I freak out if anyone puts their hand around the front of my neck.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;31. My ex-boyfriend used to measure my hair before and after a haircut to make sure I didn't get too much cut off.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;32. I love my house.  It was built in 1896.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;33. I love planning remodel projects, but I don't actually want to do the work.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;34. I'm not very fashionable.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;35. I love formal dresses and own 5 formal black dresses that have only been worn once.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;36. I rarely drink water.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;37. I mostly drink white chocolate caramel cappaccino.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;38. My favorite fruit is watermelon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;39. I dislike all cooked vegetables except corn.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;40. I love raw, fresh from the garden vegetables.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;41. In the winter I only shave my legs when I have to wear a dress.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;42. I would make a horrible stay-at-home-mom.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;43. I hate taking baths.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;44. I wear long sleeves even in the summer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;45. I'm very unorganized.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;46. I like watching TV.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;47. My favorite movies are Diggstown, Eddie &amp;amp; 10 Things I Hate About You.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;48. My go-to comfort food is barbeque potato chips &amp;amp; Top the Tater dip.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;49. I've never been on my honeymoon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;50. I've never taken a vacation that didn't involve seeing family.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-4015045998535443063?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/4015045998535443063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=4015045998535443063&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/4015045998535443063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/4015045998535443063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/06/50-things-about-me.html' title='50 Things About Me'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-4243225975750656453</id><published>2008-06-11T11:36:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-11T11:50:48.621-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The only bad thing about weddings.</title><content type='html'>Is that they take up an entire week of time afterwards to edit the photos.  Considering that I've been doing one wedding a weekend, I just don't have time for much else, including my blog.  I have so much I want to talk about, but I feel guilty blogging when I should be editing pictures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will tell you a little story about this past weekends wedding, though.  Then I really need to get back to work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wedding was beautiful and everything was going exactly as planned.  Everyone was happy, the families were wonderful, the best men cooperative.  The weather was threatening rain, and we were scheduled to go to the golf course after the wedding to take some pictures, but to insure some outside pictures we snuck some in posed in front of the church.  These turned out very nice even though the guys almost melted.   After the ceremony it still wasn't raining, so we headed to the golf course.  As we were taking the last photo the tornado sirens sound.  We all hop in our vehicles and race to the reception one town over.  We arrive at the reception and start getting the important pictures taken when the power to the entire town goes out.  After about 10 minutes the reception site gets onto generator power.  We finish pictures and my assistant and I are debating whether to wait out the storm or make a mad dash home (we are 45 minutes south of home).  We decide to make a mad dash and take off.  We drive west and almost drive into the path of 5 tornadoes on the ground.  We decide to head south (opposite direction we need to go) to try to skirt around the storm cell.  It works and soon we are cruising along until we hit another tornado on the ground that passes within a mile of us.  We never stopped, because I just wanted to get home.  We managed to stay safe and after we returned to normal weather closer to home we kicked ourselves for not taking pictures of the storm.  Oh well, we were mostly concerned about staying alive.  Anyway, that is the excitement of last weeks wedding.  Oh, and it ended up being a good thing we left, because the town we were in flooded and no one could leave about 3 hours after we left.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-4243225975750656453?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/4243225975750656453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=4243225975750656453&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/4243225975750656453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/4243225975750656453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/06/only-bad-thing-about-weddings.html' title='The only bad thing about weddings.'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-3179292999449932521</id><published>2008-06-06T14:26:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-06T14:32:17.485-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Favorite Friday</title><content type='html'>Here is my favorite Friday post (on time even!).  This is from last Saturday's wedding.  I really want to clone this bride's mother, because she was AWESOME to work with, and the bride's Dad had me laughing all day.  This couple is so wonderful to work with.&lt;br /&gt;This photo is from the first time he saw her that day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SEmQNc9roJI/AAAAAAAAADI/VjoDak8FR5I/s1600-h/Skarski_9278.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SEmQNc9roJI/AAAAAAAAADI/VjoDak8FR5I/s320/Skarski_9278.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208853004818292882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Can't you just feel the love he has for her.  It was such an emotional day.  Everyone cried at least once.  I hope this weekend is as much fun.&lt;br /&gt;I have a feeling Favorite Friday is going to be a bit wedding heavy these next few weeks, because I'm shooting a lot of weddings right now.  I hope you don't mind.  Have a great weekend everyone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-3179292999449932521?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/3179292999449932521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=3179292999449932521&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/3179292999449932521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/3179292999449932521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/06/favorite-friday.html' title='Favorite Friday'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SEmQNc9roJI/AAAAAAAAADI/VjoDak8FR5I/s72-c/Skarski_9278.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-1883384207372382144</id><published>2008-06-04T13:57:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-04T14:25:52.535-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What am I missing here?</title><content type='html'>A little over a year ago I needed to write a business plan.  I had no idea what the heck I was doing so I started my research.  I read books, scoured the internet and asked every business owner I came into contact with what they did.  At the end of a month I still had no idea what the heck I was doing.  Enter the Small Business Economic Development Center, a non-profit organization that has volunteers who know what they are doing to help small business owners in all stages.  I was very fortunate to be paired with a retired bank president who had seen &amp;amp; written numerous business plans in his career (score me!). &lt;br /&gt;Since it has been a year since I've written the plan, I thought a little review was in order, so I called to make an appointment to review said business plan &amp;amp; financial statements.  Here is a snippet of our meeting:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Retired Bank President: "I see here you didn't take a salary last year &amp;amp; you haven't taken one to date this year."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:  "I didn't make enough money last year to take a salary.  And this year I'm still trying to play catch up from last year, so there is still no money to take."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;RBP: "You know you need to take a salary or the banks won't take you seriously."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Because the fact that I've been working my tail off for the last year isn't serious enough?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;RBP: "The banks won't take your figures seriously during a loan review if you don't show a salary."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Wouldn't they rather I give them the money or pay my rent than put it back in my pocket."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;RBP: "They will not think you are a serious business if you don't pay yourself.  I mean no one works for free."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Granted, but if I'm barely breaking even &amp;amp; last year showed a loss, how do I justify my salary &amp;amp; where does it come from?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;RBP: "Pay yourself from your profits."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:  "Uh, there are no profits yet.  We would be thrilled if we break even this year.  Can I start taking a salary once I'm making money, like hopefully next year?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;RBP: "You still need to show that you want to take a salary on your projections."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "So you want me to lie."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;RBP: "It isn't a lie, you want a salary don't you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "No, I like being poor."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;RBP:  just stares at me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "I mean yes, that is my goal, the one I've been striving for and the whole reason I'm here."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I'm supposed to be taking a salary from a business that hasn't even broken even yet.  I can't wait to explain this to my husband.  I may need to video tape, because I'm pretty sure his head will literally explode.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-1883384207372382144?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/1883384207372382144/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=1883384207372382144&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/1883384207372382144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/1883384207372382144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/06/what-am-i-missing-here.html' title='What am I missing here?'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-3029270995940095364</id><published>2008-06-03T11:09:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-03T11:41:09.938-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Trinity Tuesday</title><content type='html'>Trinity is tall for her age and also has a very extensive vocabulary.  She is articulate and most people can understand everything she says.  The only time she is really misunderstood is when she is talking to people she doesn't know, because she whispers.  I mention this because I'm so used to her looking and behaving older than she is that I forget she is only 4 1/2.&lt;br /&gt;Trinity has peculiar eating habits.  She won't eat bread, but loves garlic toast.  She won't eat any type of pasta, including mac &amp;amp; cheese.  She will however eat copious amounts of fruit &amp;amp; veggies.  Her favorite snack (besides pretzels) is plain saltine crackers dipped in apple juice.  And if it comes in gravy poured over mashed potatoes she is guaranteed to eat at least 3 helpings.&lt;br /&gt;She would prefer to be outside over just about anything. She has a new Barbie bike that she wants to "give to another girl who might need it."  Because "I'm big enough for a motorcycle."  She has brought out a love of gardening in me.&lt;br /&gt;She says "camelope" instead of cantaloupe.  She says "gradulation" instead of graduation.  And no matter how many times you correct her she always puts the state before the city.  We live in "Minnesota, Albert Lea".  Cousin Lunden lives in "Nevada, Henderson".&lt;br /&gt;Her hugs are fierce and tight and I never want her to let go.  She is always running out of kisses and has to "save the last one for Daddy or he'll be sad."  She laughs with her whole body and is completely fearless.  She hates to disappoint us and feels that deeper than any punishment we could ever dole out.  She has empathy oozing from her every fiber.  It amazes me daily how she puts the needs of others before herself, while still being a strong leader and bossing anyone who comes within hearing range around.&lt;br /&gt;I was gone a lot of the weekend taking pictures.  Trinity was feeling left out, so she asked if we could take pictures of her.  Here is some of what we did:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SEVx15BWe6I/AAAAAAAAACo/T4jbQ4NPwdc/s1600-h/TrinityMorgan_9921.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SEVx15BWe6I/AAAAAAAAACo/T4jbQ4NPwdc/s320/TrinityMorgan_9921.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5207693714777340834" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SEVyfJBWe7I/AAAAAAAAACw/G_vEg2VP6ho/s1600-h/TrinityMorgan_9941.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SEVyfJBWe7I/AAAAAAAAACw/G_vEg2VP6ho/s320/TrinityMorgan_9941.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5207694423446944690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SEVzApBWe8I/AAAAAAAAAC4/rkaqhm9Le1k/s1600-h/TrinityMorgan_9959.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SEVzApBWe8I/AAAAAAAAAC4/rkaqhm9Le1k/s320/TrinityMorgan_9959.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5207694998972562370" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SEVzjZBWe9I/AAAAAAAAADA/HPX1yau8AuU/s1600-h/TrinityMorgan_9960.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SEVzjZBWe9I/AAAAAAAAADA/HPX1yau8AuU/s320/TrinityMorgan_9960.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5207695595973016530" 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/861554054486218534-3029270995940095364?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/3029270995940095364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=3029270995940095364&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/3029270995940095364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/3029270995940095364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/06/trinity-tuesday.html' title='Trinity Tuesday'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SEVx15BWe6I/AAAAAAAAACo/T4jbQ4NPwdc/s72-c/TrinityMorgan_9921.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-4793053796358017196</id><published>2008-06-03T08:50:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-03T08:54:59.664-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Favorite Friday on Tuesday</title><content type='html'>Sorry this wasn't up yesterday.  Something was up because I couldn't upload a photo to my blog.  I'm not sure if I was taxing my computer by downloading 600+ pictures off my camera or if my computer just hated me yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, here is one from over the weekend.  Sophie just turned 1 and here is what we did:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SEVNEZBWe5I/AAAAAAAAACg/csYDlR1YGZg/s1600-h/Quam_9870.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SEVNEZBWe5I/AAAAAAAAACg/csYDlR1YGZg/s320/Quam_9870.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5207653281955216274" 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/861554054486218534-4793053796358017196?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/4793053796358017196/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=4793053796358017196&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/4793053796358017196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/4793053796358017196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/06/favorite-friday-on-tuesday.html' title='Favorite Friday on Tuesday'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SEVNEZBWe5I/AAAAAAAAACg/csYDlR1YGZg/s72-c/Quam_9870.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-4347126260668179130</id><published>2008-05-30T14:01:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-30T14:03:43.525-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Favorite Friday</title><content type='html'>Favorite Friday will be postponed until Monday, because I really haven't taken any pictures this week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am busy tearing my studio apart for tomorrows wedding.  See all of you on Monday.  Have a great weekend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-4347126260668179130?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/4347126260668179130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=4347126260668179130&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/4347126260668179130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/4347126260668179130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/05/favorite-friday_30.html' title='Favorite Friday'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-4217957503245042166</id><published>2008-05-27T11:40:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-27T12:00:28.361-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Random thoughts</title><content type='html'>Happy Tuesday everyone.  What a weekend!  I'm so glad it is over.  We got a lot done over the weekend outside, because the weather was absolutely amazing.  I have all my flowers planted, but I think I already have to replace some.  Bummer, but apparently I picked up some bad Snapdragons for my pots. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I had decided that I was going to attend my local Memorial Day service, but yesterday is the one day my alarm clock (Trinity) decides to sleep past 6:30 a.m.  On the one hand, woohoo for a child that decided to sleep to a normal hour (8:10 a.m.), but on the other hand I was sad about missing the service.  We did make it to the parade, though.  They did things different this year.  Normally they have the parade and it ends at the war memorial in the yard of our courthouse.  This year they did services at all the cemetaries, then one at the war memorial, then one for servicemen/women buried at sea at the lake, then finished with the parade.  It was a bit odd for me, but nice all the same.  We had a cool hearse from 1856 in our parade this year.  Wow, talk about history and emotions - I had a hard time composing myself.  Good thing I had Trinity, because she kept me grounded talking about the ponies.&lt;br /&gt;I enjoyed the parade immensely, but I had to call my nephew shortly following to bitch.  You see I take Memorial Day seriously.  I use it as a day to honor my Dad and those servicepersons who have died and are currently serving our country.  My nephew spent 22 months in Iraq and is home now.  He is in the National Guard and runs a unit near me.  I had to call to get the name of our local commander, because one of his soldiers is a FREAKING IDIOT!!!  If you volunteer to be in a parade and you are in uniform following the American flag then you can have the common courtesy to NOT BE TALKING ON YOUR FREAKING CELL PHONE!!  Our parade route was 15-20 minutes long.  I can just about guarantee that whatever he was talking about could have waited.  It was disrespectful to our flag, to our veterans and to his uniform.  My nephew is known for making grown men cry and he actually said he would take care of it, because he thought I would put him to shame.  That's how pissed off I am. &lt;br /&gt;Okay, but enough about that.  It is cold here today.  All weekend I could go without a jacket &amp;amp; today I have a turtleneck on, my winter jacket &amp;amp; my space heater going.  I want the sun to come out again.&lt;br /&gt;Trinity only has 7 days of Montessori left.  I'm a little worried that she won't adapt to going back to daycare.  She really has thrived since we made the change.  I hope she doesn't regress this summer. &lt;br /&gt;Okay, that is it for now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-4217957503245042166?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/4217957503245042166/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=4217957503245042166&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/4217957503245042166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/4217957503245042166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/05/random-thoughts.html' title='Random thoughts'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-5590568915428172590</id><published>2008-05-23T12:43:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-23T12:53:25.838-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Favorite Friday</title><content type='html'>Favorite Friday is back.  Sorry about last week.  Trinity only lasted half a day at school before wearing herself out.  She's back to her normal self, so I'm back taking pictures.  Here is a family I took:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SDcDVZBWe2I/AAAAAAAAACM/HyxvBzC9Jf4/s1600-h/Hoeltz_9107.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SDcDVZBWe2I/AAAAAAAAACM/HyxvBzC9Jf4/s320/Hoeltz_9107.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5203631560478587746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Have a happy &amp;amp; safe Memorial Day weekend.  I'm going to try to be outside as much as possible, so I don't think I'll post over the weekend.  If you have a chance, please take in one of the many beautiful programs on Monday that honors our fallen veterans.  I'll be there sobbing like no other as this will be the first year my Dad's name will be called out.  I've always loved the Memorial Day services, but this year I'm dreading it a bit.  I haven't decided if I'll do our local one here or drive to Fort Snelling where Dad is buried.  Not sure I'll decide until Sunday, but I'm sure I'll blog all about it.  Have a safe weekend and hug a veteran or current serviceman if you have a chance.  My heart goes out to all of you who have lost someone special or has someone serving in a dangerous situation.  You are all in my prayers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-5590568915428172590?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/5590568915428172590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=5590568915428172590&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/5590568915428172590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/5590568915428172590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/05/favorite-friday_23.html' title='Favorite Friday'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SDcDVZBWe2I/AAAAAAAAACM/HyxvBzC9Jf4/s72-c/Hoeltz_9107.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-2835767485402729824</id><published>2008-05-22T10:31:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-22T10:33:59.234-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Standing on my soapbox</title><content type='html'>I was Twittering this morning and was directed to a new blog entry on one of the daily blogs I read (&lt;a href="http://www.suburbanturmoil.blogspot.com/"&gt;Suburban Turmoil&lt;/a&gt;).  It was about brag hags and from there I was directed to a Today show interview/story about Cocktail Playdates.  I now feel the urge to blog about cocktail playdates.  In the spirit of full disclosure I must admit to the following list of items:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I have never been to a Cocktail Playdate.&lt;br /&gt;2. This is the first I had heard of Cocktail Playdates.&lt;br /&gt;3. I rarely drink.&lt;br /&gt;4. Alcoholism runs in my family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, that being said you probably all think I’m going to bash these mothers, well I’m not.  I actually do not see anything wrong with this practice.  The psychiatrist that the Today show had on kept spouting about how you cannot effectively parent if you have a cocktail.  I would have loved if Meredith Viera would have asked her if she stopped drinking completely the day she became a mother.  Because according to this psychiatrist as a mother we must NEVER EVER have an alcoholic beverage.  To do so automatically puts our children in danger.  I do not see the difference between having a cocktail playdate and having a glass of wine at home while fixing dinner.  If a mother is at home and getting drunk and neglecting her children, then obviously that is not the situation I am condoning.  I’m talking about a glass of wine or a margarita or a cosmopolitan.  The psychiatrist or Meredith asked about what would happen if the child got injured and had to be taken to the hospital – uh, call 911.  Isn’t that what you would do if you were at home?  Is there anything different between having a cocktail with friends at a playdate and going home and going out to dinner with your husband, having a glass of wine and going home to care for your child(ren).  I say there is not.&lt;br /&gt;Again, in the spirit of full disclosure I will admit that I have drank alcohol in front of my daughter.  Okay, so to add to that I will publicly humiliate myself by admitting that just last week I did so and she got ahold of said drink and started to drink it herself before I saw her and grabbed it away.  I think that part of parenting is teaching our children how to make smart choices.  I’ve had more alcoholic beverages in May (3) than I have the previous 8 months (0).  I think that teaching Trinity that once she is 21 that drinking can be done responsibly by example does not make me a bad parent.  And to all of you cocktail playdate having moms – I think you are teaching your child(ren) how to make smart choices.  Also, can I come too?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-2835767485402729824?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/2835767485402729824/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=2835767485402729824&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/2835767485402729824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/2835767485402729824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/05/standing-on-my-soapbox.html' title='Standing on my soapbox'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-5569198010863097339</id><published>2008-05-20T12:18:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-20T12:38:32.156-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Trinity Tuesday</title><content type='html'>I had to leave early last Friday so I didn't get my usual Favorite Friday post up.  Since it was going to be of Trinity, I've added a couple extra today.  So, here are a few of my SweetPea from our trip to Missouri for her uncle's graduation.  The first one is of her wanting me to take a picture of the flower when I wanted to take a picture of her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SDMJSVD_Z5I/AAAAAAAAAB0/VTPkuBYGeK0/s1600-h/TrinityMorgan_9243.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SDMJSVD_Z5I/AAAAAAAAAB0/VTPkuBYGeK0/s320/TrinityMorgan_9243.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5202512205039232914" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is Trinity napping between  the graduation ceremony and  dinner.  She just looked so peaceful.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SDMKtlD_Z6I/AAAAAAAAAB8/KVSLJLfIrVA/s1600-h/TrinityMorgan_9252.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SDMKtlD_Z6I/AAAAAAAAAB8/KVSLJLfIrVA/s320/TrinityMorgan_9252.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5202513772702295970" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And finally, here is one of the two of us.  Neither of us look that great, but my camera did not like the lighting conditions of that gym.  Even with my flash, I got horrible photos.  &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SDMLbVD_Z7I/AAAAAAAAACE/ZuJZw42BLsI/s1600-h/TrinityMorgan_9197.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SDMLbVD_Z7I/AAAAAAAAACE/ZuJZw42BLsI/s320/TrinityMorgan_9197.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5202514558681311154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for checking us out.  I've got some things coming up that I'm anxious to blog about.  I just need to find time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-5569198010863097339?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/5569198010863097339/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=5569198010863097339&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/5569198010863097339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/5569198010863097339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/05/trinity-tuesday.html' title='Trinity Tuesday'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SDMJSVD_Z5I/AAAAAAAAAB0/VTPkuBYGeK0/s72-c/TrinityMorgan_9243.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-3630745394638833900</id><published>2008-05-13T16:01:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-13T16:18:00.962-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My lesson in fortitude</title><content type='html'>I caught a glimpse of what type of person Trinity is going to grow up to be.  I have heard about parenting being like wearing your heart on the outside of your body, but I've never really 'felt' it until today.&lt;br /&gt;Trinity has had a bug since yesterday morning.  She's thrown up a few times, has eaten almost nothing and is unbelievably lethargic.  She just isn't herself.  She is obsessed with her fever and taking her temperature.  So far we've kept the fever in check, but I'm trying to let it run its course.  She is dehydrated and weak.  Earlier today I had to carry her downstairs to the bathroom. &lt;br /&gt;Just a few minutes ago she had to go to the bathroom again.  I think of this as a good thing, at least she isn't that dehydrated.  I ask if she wanted me to carry her.  Her response was a weak "No."  She was wobbling down the stairs and so I asked if she wanted me to go with her.  She muttered "Nooo, I can do it."  After a few minutes I got concerned so under the disguise of getting something to drink for myself, I went downstairs to check on her.  From the bathroom I hear "Mom, what are you doing down here?"  Uh, busted.  After she finished and we got her some more strawberry Gatorade, we headed back upstairs.  Trinity was ahead of me and crawling up the stairs on her hands and knees.  I asked if she wanted me to help her and she said with tears in her voice "No, I will do this myself."  I had to stop to get a grip.  My breath caught in my throat.  This was her, my child not allowing adversity to stop her or get her down.  This was the person she was going to grow into.  I am only keeping the tears in check because I don't want her to think she is sicker than she is. &lt;br /&gt;I could not be prouder, I can not believe I created this amazing being.  I learned today what it feels like to have my heart outside my chest.  There it is for the world to see, my heart in the form of a 4 year old who will not be taken down by anything, especially not the flu.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-3630745394638833900?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/3630745394638833900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=3630745394638833900&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/3630745394638833900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/3630745394638833900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/05/my-lesson-in-fortitude.html' title='My lesson in fortitude'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-7872738679076382121</id><published>2008-05-13T08:13:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-13T08:22:45.968-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Short update.</title><content type='html'>I'm sorry there was no Favorite Friday.  I spent almost 8 hours in a car and was exhausted by the time we got to our destination.  I also didn't put any photos on the laptop to post.  I can't even promise a double post this Friday because Trinity is sick and I'm at home.  I doubt any of you want to see a puking child, so I won't take pictures until she is better.&lt;br /&gt;Our trip to Missouri was nice.  I wish I would have done a little more research on the hotel, because it wasn't the greatest.  It was fine, but we kept the window open most of the time because it smelled.  I realized that even at a happy event like a college graduation there are some mean nasty people.  I won't go into details because the two people don't need encouragement in their behavior.&lt;br /&gt;Trinity had a great time and loved hanging out with her Uncle Josh, who she hasn't seen in a couple years.&lt;br /&gt;Mother's Day was once again spent in the car.  It wasn't so bad and it was really nice getting home.  We played Chutes &amp;amp; Ladders, Gone Fishing, Memory &amp;amp; Go Fish after dinner.  It was a great time. &lt;br /&gt;I'll post again once Trinity is feeling better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-7872738679076382121?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/7872738679076382121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=7872738679076382121&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/7872738679076382121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/7872738679076382121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/05/short-update.html' title='Short update.'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-4902933567357976813</id><published>2008-05-08T11:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T11:46:21.816-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Lucky me!</title><content type='html'>I always have teased my Mom that I'm the luckiest kid out there.  My Mom's birthday &amp;amp; Mother's Day are always in the same week.  I get to go shopping once and forget for another year.  The same was true for my Dad, but this is about Mom.  My Mom was the only stay at home mom of any of my friends growing up.  Can you believe that?  It always bothered me for some reason, but now I see the benefits it has bestowed upon me.  My Mom can't cook for anything, but her baking is the bomb.  She made homemade bread, cake, donuts, cookies, candy - you name it she could bake it.  Everything from scratch, too - not shortcuts in our house.  There was nothing better than coming home from school and the house smelling of fresh baked bread.  Oh, and there was always a loaf about to come out of the oven, so snack that day would be warm bread and melted butter (real butter, not margarine).  Oh, they must serve that in heaven. &lt;br /&gt;My Mom wasn't much of a disciplinarian.  I don't remember her ever raising her voice.  The only time she ever spanked me was when I was 4, ran out of paper dolls, so I used her window shades.  Yeah, I wasn't the smartest 4 year old that day.  When she caught me I had realized the error of my ways and thought I'd make up for it by taping the shades back together.  She busted me before I finished.  She grabbed the tape first then decided I needed to be spanked.  Uh, yeah, in the heat of anger she forgot she was holding the tape.  My butt figured it out almost immediately though.  Thirty years later I can still recall every detail of that moment including the look of disappointment in her eyes.  Yep, that was it the only time my mother ever spanked me in my life.  I was, however, grounded often.  Interestingly, I am probably still grounded as my mother's favorite length of grounding was "indefinitely" and I don't ever remember being ungrounded. &lt;br /&gt;My Mom had brain surgery 5 years ago and there have been some residual effects that have made her a bit difficult to deal with at times.  It wasn't such a problem when Dad was alive, but the last year has made it more of an issue.  I love my mother more than anything and I just wanted to give a little shout out to a woman who taught me that raising children is by far the hardest most rewarding occupation out there.  I love you Mom!  Happy birthday &amp;amp; happy Mother's Day!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-4902933567357976813?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/4902933567357976813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=4902933567357976813&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/4902933567357976813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/4902933567357976813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/05/lucky-me.html' title='Lucky me!'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-8041113997345152428</id><published>2008-05-05T20:51:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-05T21:08:48.214-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Day</title><content type='html'>I'm thinking about my Dad a lot today.  I think because I had a rough day.  I hate fighting with my husband &amp;amp; I did it twice in one day.  Big fights, too not just a small disagreement.  The studio was also vandalized and I had to deal with my landlord and an incompetent police officer.  I generally have a great respect for our police officers, but this guy just looked at my window and said "You know you can wash that off, right."  Yes, thank you officer, but seeing as this isn't my building and half of downtown was spray painted I thought you'd like to write a report or something.  My Dad and I are (were?) very similar.  We're both stubborn, always right and smarter than people give us credit for.  He wasn't home often when I was growing up.  Mom stayed home, so Dad worked all the time.  He never had a normal 8-5 job.  But when life threw me a curve ball I always knew that I was safe if Dad was around.  He was very hard on us and didn't show affection, but I knew nothing could get me if my Daddy was home.  I was never scared of monsters in my closet or under my bed, because I knew they were more scared of my Dad.  I rarely had bad dreams if Dad was sleeping in the room under mine or down the hall.  I just knew I was safe.  My husband usually makes me feel that same way.  I think that is why I knew he was the one I was destined to be with forever.  I knew I was safe when he was with me.  If my husband is away or working late I can't fall asleep, I hear things, my head fills with irrational fears, I'm tense and I get scared.  As soon as I hear his key in the door I immediately relax.  I know I'm okay.  Since DH &amp;amp; I are fighting today I am missing my Dad.  Because I don't feel safe.  I feel adrift and alone.  I feel like there are monsters under my bed and I don't know what to do.  I have never felt this, because I've always had either my Daddy or my husband to protect me and today I don't.  DH isn't home so we can't work this out, Daddy isn't here and I'm scared that if I go to bed, into the dark that the monsters will get me.  I now know they are there, lurking, waiting and I can't face them - not alone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-8041113997345152428?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/8041113997345152428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=8041113997345152428&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/8041113997345152428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/8041113997345152428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/05/my-day.html' title='My Day'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-4047334495623257852</id><published>2008-05-02T12:18:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-02T12:21:35.168-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Favorite Friday</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SBtNkMPYuBI/AAAAAAAAABM/_TkFpf0AHCM/s1600-h/Crawford_9004.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SBtNkMPYuBI/AAAAAAAAABM/_TkFpf0AHCM/s320/Crawford_9004.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195831879258388498" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From last Saturday's wedding, this was just a really small wedding and they came to the studio to have some nice shots taken.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-4047334495623257852?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/4047334495623257852/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=4047334495623257852&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/4047334495623257852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/4047334495623257852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/05/favorite-friday.html' title='Favorite Friday'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SBtNkMPYuBI/AAAAAAAAABM/_TkFpf0AHCM/s72-c/Crawford_9004.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-1898039973255867988</id><published>2008-05-01T16:58:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-01T17:05:09.565-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Client:</title><content type='html'>My dearest and most favorite client (note sarcasm):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I took your photos and told you your proofs would be online on Friday (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;on&lt;/span&gt; Friday not &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;by&lt;/span&gt; Friday) I must have been unclear.  For that I apologize, I hope this note clarifies my meaning.  "Online on Friday" does not mean call me 8 times on Thursday checking to see if I have had a chance to put them online yet.  In fact, by calling me 8 times on Thursday before 5 p.m. I actually spent more time listening to your messages and returning your calls than I did working on your pictures.  I apologize in advance that your pictures are going to be delayed.  However, due to an overabundance of phone calls today I will not be able to get my real work done until tomorrow or Monday. (And partly because I really want to piss you off.)  In retrospect, were the 8 calls worth it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yours sincerely,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Neda&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-1898039973255867988?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/1898039973255867988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=1898039973255867988&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/1898039973255867988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/1898039973255867988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/05/dear-client.html' title='Dear Client:'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-8280353345242013782</id><published>2008-05-01T11:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-01T11:51:22.601-05:00</updated><title type='text'>?????</title><content type='html'>Penny had this on her blog and I thought it looked like fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table width="350" align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2"&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bg align="center" style="color:#EEEEEE;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="'color:black;font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You Are a Question Mark&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/whatpunctuationmarkareyouquiz/question.gif" height="100" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You seek knowledge and insight in every form possible. You love learning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And while you know a lot, you don't act like a know it all. You're open to learning you're wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You ask a lot of questions, collect a lot of data, and always dig deep to find out more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're naturally curious and inquisitive. You jump to ask a question when the opportunity arises.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your friends see you as interesting, insightful, and thought provoking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(But they're not always up for the intense inquisitions that you love!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You excel in: Higher education&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You get along best with: The Comma&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatpunctuationmarkareyouquiz/"&gt;What Punctuation Mark Are You?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-8280353345242013782?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/8280353345242013782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=8280353345242013782&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/8280353345242013782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/8280353345242013782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/05/blog-post.html' title='?????'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-8019554126197839978</id><published>2008-04-29T08:58:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-29T09:06:48.735-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Pet peeve #487</title><content type='html'>Yes, I have a lot of pet peeves.  I get annoyed often.  This is not my pet peeve, but right now Twitter isn't working and that annoys me.  I always start my work day with Twitter, so the fact that my day is now screwed up is pet peeve #512.&lt;br /&gt;Back to pet peeve #487 and the reason for this post.  I hate when people say "Call me back at this number."  And you call them back and they aren't there, but that's not all - there is no answering machine.  How the hell am I supposed to get you the answer you so desperately needed right away if no one &amp;amp; nothing answers the phone.  In this great day of technology how do you not have voice mail or an answering machine.  I realize you probably have caller id, but I don't want you calling me back at your convenience.  I have a life, too.  I want the option of not answering my work phone at 10 p.m.  Of course since I didn't get a hold of you because of your lack of technology I now have to answer when you find that I did call you back, because phone tag is my pet peeve #346.  I just can't win.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-8019554126197839978?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/8019554126197839978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=8019554126197839978&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/8019554126197839978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/8019554126197839978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/04/pet-peeve-487.html' title='Pet peeve #487'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-3712589093718986137</id><published>2008-04-25T14:02:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-25T14:12:02.645-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Favorite Friday</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SBIseMPYuAI/AAAAAAAAABE/2sLf1LsKsxo/s1600-h/TrinityM_8686.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SBIseMPYuAI/AAAAAAAAABE/2sLf1LsKsxo/s320/TrinityM_8686.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193262217505060866" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SBIsC8PYt_I/AAAAAAAAAA8/1G7UHrJjsQw/s1600-h/TrinityM_8678.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SBIsC8PYt_I/AAAAAAAAAA8/1G7UHrJjsQw/s320/TrinityM_8678.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193261749353625586" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SBIrccPYt-I/AAAAAAAAAA0/9Y606t6eReM/s1600-h/TrinityM_8651.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SBIrccPYt-I/AAAAAAAAAA0/9Y606t6eReM/s320/TrinityM_8651.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193261087928661986" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The top two pictures are from our trip to the beach in California.  Trinity loves the beach and is still begging to go back.  The bottom one is Trinity and Lunden, her newest cousin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As much as Trinity hates having me take her picture right now, I just love capturing her on film, because I love how expressive she can be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-3712589093718986137?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/3712589093718986137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=3712589093718986137&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/3712589093718986137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/3712589093718986137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/04/favorite-friday_25.html' title='Favorite Friday'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/SBIseMPYuAI/AAAAAAAAABE/2sLf1LsKsxo/s72-c/TrinityM_8686.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-8653797772926893446</id><published>2008-04-22T11:03:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-22T11:03:52.471-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My slogan</title><content type='html'>&lt;table width="350" align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2"&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bg align="center" style="color:#EEEEEE;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="'color:black;font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Your Slogan Should Be&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/theslogangenerator/slogan.jpg" height="100" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Neda. Hand-built by Robots.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/theslogangenerator/"&gt;The Slogan Generator&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-8653797772926893446?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/8653797772926893446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=8653797772926893446&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/8653797772926893446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/8653797772926893446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/04/my-slogan.html' title='My slogan'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-971426495842130588</id><published>2008-04-21T19:13:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-21T19:24:29.391-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I've figured it out!</title><content type='html'>I've figured out why men think women are bad drivers.  It has nothing to do with our ability to handle a vehicle.  I'm actually a much better driver than my husband (thank goodness he doesn't read my blog).  I've never been in an accident.  I have only received a couple speeding tickets and the one rolling a stop sign ticket I received was overturned by a judge.  And the illegal tint ticket I got doesn't count, because the state trooper only gave it to me because I was in a foul mood and told him off (he had nothing else he could give me a ticket for).  Overall, I am a better than average driver.  However, I have begun to notice that while I'm driving with Trinity in the car my attention gets divided.  She asks me questions about what she is looking at out the window or wants me to sing along to her CDs or she is having a meltdown and my attention is taken away from driving momentarily.  I try to remind her that I'm driving and she will have to be patient until we reach our destination, but she's four and sometimes the dog on the sidewalk just cannot wait.  Thus far, we have avoided catastrophe, but I can understand how accidents happen.  So, to all those men out there who think we are bad drivers I say - maybe, but mostly we are just good moms.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-971426495842130588?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/971426495842130588/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=971426495842130588&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/971426495842130588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/971426495842130588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/04/ive-figured-it-out.html' title='I&apos;ve figured it out!'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-1041820118721272289</id><published>2008-04-10T16:19:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-10T16:33:56.166-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm on vacation.</title><content type='html'>Writing that line makes me think of the movie 'City Slickers.'&lt;br /&gt;We arrived safe and sound and everything is good.  Trinity traveled well, with a small exception of the 90 minute flight from Minneapolis to Cincinnati.  How dare I as parent discipline my child on an airplane.  Okay, all I did was take her straws away, since she was tipping her Sprite and spilling down her shirt, but in her eyes I ruined her life.  Then when we arrived in Cincinnati, she was tired and had a small meltdown in the airport.  This consisted of her sitting in the middle of the hallway screaming "You won't leave me here!"  While she was correct, I did walk away towards the escalator.  Needless to say she ran to catch up.  Thankfully the Cincinnati airport has a childrens play area inside the airport.  What a lifesaver.  The rest of the trip she was fantastic, of course she slept most of it. &lt;br /&gt;I am a bit frustrated, though.  Why is it that DH thinks that by sleeping and working the whole trip it is a vacation for me?  Trinity still needs to be watched, played with, fed, etc.  While I love being a Mom, for me a vacation is having someone help me with my mom duties.  How do I get him to understand that?  Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;Favorite Friday is going to be delayed a little as we are driving to California tomorrow and I have no idea what the itinerary is yet.  Chances are good it will either be Lunden or Trinity as they are the only people I've shot this week.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-1041820118721272289?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/1041820118721272289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=1041820118721272289&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/1041820118721272289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/1041820118721272289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/04/im-on-vacation.html' title='I&apos;m on vacation.'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-5254274520424438971</id><published>2008-04-07T11:43:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-07T11:55:45.609-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The day before vacation</title><content type='html'>I hate the day before leaving on vacation.  I always feel flustered, unorganized and in need of a large stiff drink.  Today is no different except that I have to be at work to make sure everything is done and I have a doctor appointment this afternoon.  Argh!  When I made the appointment (last September) I had no idea we would be leaving tomorrow.  I can't reschedule the appointment because it takes 9 months to get in to my doctor for my annual exam.  Oh, and I have to fight with my accountant to get my taxes finished up today as we won't make it back to file before the deadline.  I also have to mail my mother's taxes, mail out some contracts and run to Wal-Mart for last minute travel needs (a new toothbrush for everyone).  I cannot no matter how hard I try take my old toothbrush on a trip.  I have to get everyone a new one.  I like the fact that they are sealed until we get to where we are going.  Who knows who is going through your luggage and touching your toothbrush.  Ack - thinking about it makes me want to gag.  Anyway, new toothbrushes for everyone.  I will probably have lots to blog about while gone seeing as I'm going to try to take lots of photos.  Well, I'm off to run errands then then go visit my lovely gynecologist.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-5254274520424438971?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/5254274520424438971/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=5254274520424438971&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/5254274520424438971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/5254274520424438971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/04/day-before-vacation.html' title='The day before vacation'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-5183631376703879732</id><published>2008-04-04T10:04:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-04T10:12:39.822-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Favorite Friday</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R_ZFOz-l1EI/AAAAAAAAAAs/5KjC6PBqgvU/s1600-h/2853.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R_ZFOz-l1EI/AAAAAAAAAAs/5KjC6PBqgvU/s320/2853.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5185408141736924226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is Cassie.  She's a local high school senior.  I also did her older sisters pictures a few years ago.  They are both beautiful and very photogenic.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-5183631376703879732?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/5183631376703879732/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=5183631376703879732&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/5183631376703879732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/5183631376703879732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/04/favorite-friday.html' title='Favorite Friday'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R_ZFOz-l1EI/AAAAAAAAAAs/5KjC6PBqgvU/s72-c/2853.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-6946080300529329724</id><published>2008-04-01T09:41:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-01T10:35:37.968-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Vacation countdown - 1 week to go</title><content type='html'>We leave for Vegas a week from today.  I am very excited to see the new baby.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Lunden&lt;/span&gt; is the whole reason we are going, but I have to admit I'm looking forward to some down time.  I learned today the my MIL is leaving today for Vegas and staying until after we get there.  She said she wanted to make sure she saw us - um, because it is easier to fly 4 hours instead of driving the 1 hour it takes to get to our house.  I'm confused.  I love my MIL, but I love her more from a distance.&lt;br /&gt;So, I think I'm more excited to be leaving, because it is snowing today and next week is supposed to be in the 80s in Vegas.  Good thing I shaved my legs this weekend. &lt;br /&gt;Speaking of leg shaving, I hosted 'Ladies Night In' on Friday for some good friends.  We got wild and crazy while we played Super Scrabble and ate mesquite chicken wings, broccoli salad, pretzels and cheesecake.  But we started talking about shaving our legs.  P commented it had been a month since she shaved, but her hair is pretty light and wasn't too noticeable.  I admitted I hadn't shaved in 2008 and it was long enough to braid (literally), plus I have dark black hair on my legs and I looked like a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;sasquatch&lt;/span&gt;.  And A looked horrified and said she shaves daily.  Now, as a mother of a 4 year old I don't always get to shower daily, so shaving my legs daily is just not going to happen, but even if I had the time, I still would not shave daily.  Granted in the summer I shave at a minimum once a week and probably closer to 3 times a week.  We ski on a water ski team, so I'm in shorts and swimsuits nightly.  I have no desire to scare people, so I shave.  But how often is often enough?  I live in Minnesota and no one sees my legs for the majority of the winter and if I need to wear a dress or skirt, I will shave.  Do women 'have' to shave on a regular basis?  Who are we shaving for - ourselves, our health, our husbands, each other, society?  Should I care that the person I don't know seated behind me at church can see that I have hair on my legs?  Should it matter?  I will admit that in the end, I shaved my legs on Saturday because of shame.  I was shamed into shaving my legs.  I am weak, but my husband liked it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-6946080300529329724?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/6946080300529329724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=6946080300529329724&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/6946080300529329724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/6946080300529329724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/04/vacation-countdown-1-week-to-go.html' title='Vacation countdown - 1 week to go'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-313047945383342688</id><published>2008-03-31T11:19:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-31T11:33:46.734-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Manic Monday</title><content type='html'>It is slushing here.  I've never really witnessed anything like it.  There is snow and rain at the same time and it is creating slush.  Schools are closing early and that means I have to work from home.  I don't like working from home anymore.  I like being able to leave work at work, that is why I started paying rent on 5,000 square feet of space (granted 2,500 square feet is basement).  I leave a week from tomorrow on vacation.  I have a lot to get done before I leave.&lt;br /&gt;Trinity stayed the weekend at my sister's house.  She had a blast and apparently she doesn't have a bedtime there.  My nephew told me she went to bed at midnight Friday evening and 11 pm Saturday evening.  My sister is 15 years older than me and has 3 of her own children, all grown, and is about to become a grandmother.  She should know better.  But Trinity has a great time there and I guess that trumps a late bedtime.  However, she was cranky this morning while we were getting ready for school.  The retraining is the only thing that annoys me about her weekend visits.&lt;br /&gt;My weekend was pretty good.  We had our tax appt on Saturday and got better news than we expected, but still not great news.  That is okay, though.  It was the first year of having the business out of the house.  I also got a lot of dishes done.  Dishes are the down side to not eating out.  I'm trying to learn to balance this new phenomenon to save money.  It is tricky. &lt;br /&gt;I'm having some serious issues with my Mom right now, but I'm still internally processing them, so that blog entry will have to wait. &lt;br /&gt;I'm very excited because I was asked to take the cast picture for the local theatre production of "Father of the Bride".  I get to do that tomorrow.  Yippee!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-313047945383342688?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/313047945383342688/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=313047945383342688&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/313047945383342688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/313047945383342688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/03/manic-monday.html' title='Manic Monday'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-4612661352865496882</id><published>2008-03-28T15:10:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-28T15:17:55.054-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Favorite Friday</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R-1SPj-l1CI/AAAAAAAAAAg/sJ3UDkCw_lA/s1600-h/Owen.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R-1SPj-l1CI/AAAAAAAAAAg/sJ3UDkCw_lA/s320/Owen.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182889173482591266" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This is Owen.  I don't think he can take a bad picture.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-4612661352865496882?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/4612661352865496882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=4612661352865496882&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/4612661352865496882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/4612661352865496882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/03/favorite-friday_28.html' title='Favorite Friday'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R-1SPj-l1CI/AAAAAAAAAAg/sJ3UDkCw_lA/s72-c/Owen.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-964586433971466364</id><published>2008-03-28T14:56:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-28T15:07:28.916-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Bad Mom or bad photographer</title><content type='html'>Yesterday Trinity got a haircut.  Her hair was to the middle of her back and with her curls it was a snarly mess every morning &amp;amp; every evening with one or both of us ending up in tears during a brushing session.  Since she was very adamant about not wanting "boy hair", we compromised on getting an inch cut off.  We drive 30 minutes to her stylist (yes, my 4 year old has her own stylist) because it is worth the $25 (including tip) that we pay, because I've honestly never seen my daughter better behaved than when getting a haircut.  I do not know what type of spell or trance that stylist M puts on my daughter, but she is a perfect angel for 30 minutes.  So, we arrive at the salon a little early and we are looking at the style books and Trinity looks at this one girl and says "I want my hair to look like that."  The girls hair is barely to her shoulders and stick straight.  Now, my daughter loves having her hair straightened, so that isn't a problem, but I'm thinking that if we cut it so that it is shoulder length when straight, it will be chin length when curly - uh, she'll freak tomorrow after her shower.  So, we agree that we'll cut it just below the shoulders so that when it is curly it is at the shoulders and we put a couple layers in it as well.  She did great - she looks adorable, but do I have pictures - NO!  Why?  That is a good question.  I don't know.  I don't take my camera out of the studio unless I know I have a location shoot and it never occurs to me that I should grab the point and shoot from home.  Now, does this make me a bad mom, because I don't capture every moment of my child's life on digital memory?  Does it make me a bad photographer, because I don't always have my camera with me ready to grab that once in a lifetime memory that I just happen upon by accident?  I don't know and it probably won't change my habits either way, but I currently feel guilty that I don't have cute pictures to share.  Now I have to go pick my picture for Favorite Friday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-964586433971466364?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/964586433971466364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=964586433971466364&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/964586433971466364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/964586433971466364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/03/bad-mom-or-bad-photographer.html' title='Bad Mom or bad photographer'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-8958156850954887398</id><published>2008-03-26T10:16:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-26T10:31:05.752-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't understand</title><content type='html'>There are a number of things I just don't understand.  (1) Why do I procrastinate on cleaning?  and more to what I'm frustrated about today (2) Why are women who have a miscarriage pushed to 'get over it.'  I've suffered two miscarriages before I had my daughter and I have a niece who has suffered so many she doesn't even tell people she's pregnant anymore.  I have another niece who suffered a miscarriage and is now pregnant and due in June.  I also have a very good friend who suffered a miscarriage last summer.  I spoke to my friend this morning and she learned her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;SIL&lt;/span&gt; suffered  a miscarriage with her first child and no one spoke about it.  The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;SIL&lt;/span&gt; is married to a gentleman from the Middle East and he said that the differences between losing a baby here and there are night and day.  Here we get insensitive 'helpful' comments like "Well, at least you didn't lose a real baby." or "It is for the best." and my favorite "You can always try again."  We are not encouraged to talk about it.  We are encouraged however to move on, forget about 'it', and get pregnant as soon as possible to replace what we've lost.  It frustrates me that people are not only insensitive, but ignorant.  I'm sorry, but every baby I lost was real, every baby my niece lost was real, maybe not to you, but to us and our husbands the babies were very real.  They are still very real.  We don't feel that losing a baby - ever - is for the best.  Would you say that to someone who's child was just killed in a car accident - no - so don't say it to a mother who lost her unborn child.  And yes, we are mothers even if there is no baby to hold in our arms. &lt;br /&gt;I hope that in my ranting today the one thing I want to get across is if you don't know what to say, say that "I don't know what to say.  I'm sorry.  Do you want a hug?"  Sometimes that is all we want to hear.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-8958156850954887398?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/8958156850954887398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=8958156850954887398&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/8958156850954887398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/8958156850954887398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/03/i-dont-understand.html' title='I don&apos;t understand'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-1652842000129623644</id><published>2008-03-24T10:36:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-24T10:41:48.545-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Favorite Friday (on Monday)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R-fLNz-l1BI/AAAAAAAAAAY/aGOCavs6730/s1600-h/Bakken_8548.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R-fLNz-l1BI/AAAAAAAAAAY/aGOCavs6730/s320/Bakken_8548.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181333334464517138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, this is from a maternity shoot I did recently.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-1652842000129623644?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/1652842000129623644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=1652842000129623644&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/1652842000129623644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/1652842000129623644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/03/favorite-friday-on-monday.html' title='Favorite Friday (on Monday)'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R-fLNz-l1BI/AAAAAAAAAAY/aGOCavs6730/s72-c/Bakken_8548.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-7888895856505732824</id><published>2008-03-21T15:57:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-21T16:00:13.475-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Favorite Friday</title><content type='html'>Favorite Friday is being postposed due to the fact that I am at home with a child who refuses to go to the bathroom.  Since all my pictures are at the studio, it is hard to post them from home.  Where is my remote desktop when I need it?  :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-7888895856505732824?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/7888895856505732824/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=7888895856505732824&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/7888895856505732824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/7888895856505732824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/03/favorite-friday.html' title='Favorite Friday'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-391684578400763518</id><published>2008-03-20T12:01:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-20T12:31:31.214-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep</title><content type='html'>http://nowilaymedowntosleep.org/start.php&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I attended a seminar last night and part of the money from our registration fee goes to support this non-profit organization.  I was inspired to contact them this morning and ask to please be one of their volunteer photographers.  I cannot imagine how difficult this will be, but these people are dealing with a lifetime of pain, so I can push through comfort level.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About a month before Trinity was born, my BIL and his girlfriend had twin girls.  They were about 5 weeks premature and there were other pregnancy complications which caused them to be transported to Children's Hospital in Minneapolis.  One of the girls grew stronger and unfortunately a couple days after our daughter was born my BIL lost one of his girls.  The hospital took some pictures, and I give them so much credit for that.  However, as a professional photographer I can grab the emotion and love that is in that room.  We will always cherish Veronica just a little more, because we know how close we came to losing her too and we will never forget Riley who was a fighter to the end.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-391684578400763518?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/391684578400763518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=391684578400763518&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/391684578400763518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/391684578400763518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/03/now-i-lay-me-down-to-sleep.html' title='Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-1970105424840372634</id><published>2008-03-19T09:58:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T10:13:52.726-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Starting out from behind</title><content type='html'>Ever had one of those days that starts out with you playing catch up.  Yep, that is the day I'm having today.  Trinity crawled into our bed at 6 a.m., so I figured she was up for the day, but no she surprised us all by falling back to sleep until 8.  We usually have to leave for school by 8:20.  Can you see the dilemma?  Yes, I should have woken her up, but I know she isn't napping at school and I wanted her to get some much needed sleep.  I got up and got dressed and was ready to go before she finally woke up.  She slowly gets downstairs where we proceed to disagree about breakfast.  She wanted a whole apple and I wanted to cut it up, because the last 3 times she was given a whole apple we ended up throwing most of it away.  Logic of wasting food and money seems lost on a tired 4 year old who isn't getting her way.  *sigh*  We agreed finally on Cheerios and an orange.  I explained to her that we were running late, so she needed to eat quickly.  Obviously that also means nothing to a 4 year old because she ate 4 bowls of Cheerios and mangled her orange.  Breakfast is finally over and she is supposed to be washing her hands.  This process, which most days I have to plead to be repeated because no one can get clean in 4 seconds, today takes 10 minutes.  I admit I begged her to not argue with me about her clothes today and then we set to get dressed.  I begged because yesterday there was a 20 minute standoff regarding her distaste for a certain pair of pants and I just didn't have a spare 20 minutes today.  We are now dressed and she willingly put her shoes on without a fight and we are out the door.  At this point I think there is hope it might take us less than 5 minutes to get into the truck - HA - I'm wrong again.  The snow has melted, so we have to investigate the grass, the flower garden, the sidewalk for worms or new cracks, and of course the last remaining dirty disgusting snow must be examined in case there is any part that can be consumed.  In the end we were 45 minutes late for school.  Luckily nothing much was on the books this morning since I'm headed to a seminar out of town.  I'm off to find coffee.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-1970105424840372634?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/1970105424840372634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=1970105424840372634&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/1970105424840372634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/1970105424840372634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/03/starting-out-from-behind.html' title='Starting out from behind'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-4887073206211579191</id><published>2008-03-18T19:47:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-18T19:49:59.407-05:00</updated><title type='text'>And her name is . . .</title><content type='html'>London Jade - and she made her appearance at 10:20 a.m. via emergency c-section.  However, everyone is doing well and is healthy.  I'm so giddy you'd never know this is my 5th niece plus I have 6 nephews.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-4887073206211579191?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/4887073206211579191/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=4887073206211579191&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/4887073206211579191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/4887073206211579191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/03/and-her-name-is.html' title='And her name is . . .'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-1165560318332349812</id><published>2008-03-18T15:59:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-18T16:01:02.455-05:00</updated><title type='text'>SHE'S HERE, SHE'S HERE, SHE'S HERE!</title><content type='html'>She arrived safe &amp;amp; sound.  She weighs 6 lbs 15 ounces and is 20 inches long.  However, she is nameless at this point.  Keep checking. . .&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-1165560318332349812?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/1165560318332349812/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=1165560318332349812&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/1165560318332349812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/1165560318332349812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/03/shes-here-shes-here-shes-here.html' title='SHE&apos;S HERE, SHE&apos;S HERE, SHE&apos;S HERE!'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-6186738167283490339</id><published>2008-03-18T15:43:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-18T15:48:01.684-05:00</updated><title type='text'>still waiting</title><content type='html'>I'm at home now after picking Trinity up from Montessori.  We've had snack and are currently watching Higglytown Heroes.  Still no word on the baby.  Trinity decided we were having mashed potatoes and hamburger gravy tonight for dinner.  Yay - that's easy easy for me to make and yummy.  Stay tuned for baby news - she can't stay in there forever right?!?!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-6186738167283490339?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/6186738167283490339/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=6186738167283490339&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/6186738167283490339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/6186738167283490339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/03/still-waiting.html' title='still waiting'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-3311086784693418550</id><published>2008-03-18T12:25:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-18T12:30:04.545-05:00</updated><title type='text'>No baby yet</title><content type='html'>They did break her water, but no baby yet.  I did find a great deal on flights and hotel.  I just have to wait to make sure husband can get the time off work.  I think after my 1:00 appointment I'm going to run home, grab a sandwich and do a load of dishes.  My kitchen still isn't put back together after the flooding from 2 weeks ago, so I'm behind in my housekeeping duties.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keep checking back for the updates of baby watch March 2008.  Oh and be prepared for more of this come June when my nephew &amp;amp; his wife are due.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-3311086784693418550?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/3311086784693418550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=3311086784693418550&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/3311086784693418550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/3311086784693418550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/03/no-baby-yet.html' title='No baby yet'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-1599462390668073573</id><published>2008-03-18T09:54:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-18T10:02:06.997-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Waiting (impatiently) for the baby</title><content type='html'>Okay, this the last time I want to know when someone goes into the hospital to have a baby.  Just keep me in the dark until it is over!  My &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;SIL&lt;/span&gt; &amp;amp; BIL were admitted last night about 8 p.m. for an induction and we've heard nothing since.  I'm very excited for them as this is there first child.  I keep &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;texting&lt;/span&gt; them but so far no news.  I'm not a patient person, and since my only experience with labor was my own daughter, which lasted less than 4 hours, I feel the baby should be here by now.  I realize that most people take longer than 4 hours with their labor and that she is being induced which takes time also, but as I said I'm impatient!  I'm trying to keep my mind off the waiting by searching for plane tickets, but since the tickets are to go see the baby it seems a bit counterproductive.&lt;br /&gt;Okay, maybe I'll try working.  Don't worry I'll be back either to announce the baby or scream because she doesn't want to meet her super cool aunt!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-1599462390668073573?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/1599462390668073573/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=1599462390668073573&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/1599462390668073573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/1599462390668073573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/03/waiting-impatiently-for-baby.html' title='Waiting (impatiently) for the baby'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-3251580710875700408</id><published>2008-03-17T10:15:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-17T10:48:21.382-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The healing power of the Curly Wurly</title><content type='html'>It was a typical Monday after completely waking up this morning.  Trinity crawled into bed with us around 12:30/1:00 a.m. and after she fell back to sleep I woke the husband up to carry her back to her room.  Then she woke us up again at 7 a.m.  Not bad for her (she is an early morning person) but my usual diversionary tactics (look, the cat is on the bed or hey, Dad's downstairs) didn't work to get that few minutes I need to become functional after being awakened with a knee to the stomach.  So, we head down to the kitchen for breakfast (Cheerios and grapes) where I get lectured about not having heart shaped cereal bowls like the one on the Cheerios box.  After a few minor meltdowns (dumping cereal &amp;amp; milk all over ourselves, no pink underwear to go with our all pink ensemble, Mom brushing our hair, Mom putting a ponytail in our hair, Mom not putting the right kind of ponytail in our hair) we are dressed and out the door.  We somehow, even after playing in the newly fallen snow on the way to the truck, ended up at school early.  After dropping the dear child off and picking up a very large cup of cappuccino I arrived at the studio.  I have to shovel my own sidewalk and was having so much fun &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;de&lt;/span&gt;-stressing that I shoveled the two stores next to me as well.  Stopping only because I had to pee. &lt;br /&gt;Once I got inside and ready to work I found I was having a hard time getting motivated to work.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Hmm&lt;/span&gt;. . .hunger maybe, so I found the only food I had in here - a Curly &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Wurly&lt;/span&gt;.  If you have never heard of this candy bar do not be alarmed as it hails from Europe.  A good friend of mine has a sister living in the UK and sister's boyfriend sends boxes of Curly &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Wurly's&lt;/span&gt; to good friend.  When I do a particularly good job of sucking up or it is my birthday (*hint*hint*) she will share a Curly &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Wurly&lt;/span&gt; with me.  When you think about the Curly &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Wurly&lt;/span&gt; it does not seem that special - &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Cadbury&lt;/span&gt; chocolate covering a thin ribbon of caramel.  But it just melts in your mouth and makes your whole body happy.  After eating my Curly &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Wurly&lt;/span&gt; I am having a wonderful day. &lt;br /&gt;I helped a very nice lady on the phone who hired a photographer that she now has to sue find some documentation she needed.  I helped my husband with a problem he was having - all because of the Curly &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Wurly&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;Now I am going to meet with a bride  whose wedding I am shooting in May.  She is a bit high maintenance, but because of the Curly &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Wurly&lt;/span&gt; I am looking forward to seeing her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Long live the Curly &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Wurly&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-3251580710875700408?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/3251580710875700408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=3251580710875700408&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/3251580710875700408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/3251580710875700408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/03/healing-power-of-curly-wurly.html' title='The healing power of the Curly Wurly'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-7172575103967796020</id><published>2008-03-15T09:50:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-15T10:10:27.221-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Wasting some time</title><content type='html'>Well, I really am wasting some time.  I left my phone charger at the studio yesterday and my phone is about dead.  My husband bought me a Motorola &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Rokr&lt;/span&gt; for this past Christmas, so I use it to work out.  After registering my daughter for Montessori kindergarten I was planning to exercise (that is 3 times this week which equals all of 2007), but I cannot work out without music.  Hence, my reason for wasting time this morning. &lt;br /&gt;I've had a couple people mention they hope I post some of my studio work, so I believe I'm going to start a "Favorite Friday" where on Friday I will post my favorite shot(s) from the week.  This is provided I can figure out how to put the photos into my post.  I am not the most computer literate person out there.  I figure this is because of one of two reasons.  (1) My husband is a computer genius (aka geek), so being of lesser computer knowledge I married him for his geek-skills or (2) because of his geek-skills I call on him when I don't know what I'm doing instead of figuring it out myself thereby furthering my computer ignorance.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Hmmm&lt;/span&gt;. . .possibly a little of both.&lt;br /&gt;Well, I am signing off for now, because I just realized I have to run a few more errands before I get to my workout.  Stay tuned for more after all you can't get rid of me that easily.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-7172575103967796020?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/7172575103967796020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=7172575103967796020&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/7172575103967796020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/7172575103967796020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/03/wasting-some-time.html' title='Wasting some time'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-861554054486218534.post-8421547633810656575</id><published>2008-03-14T11:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-14T11:28:16.601-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm blogging, I'm really, really blogging.</title><content type='html'>Yeah, I can't believe it either.  I have to admit I wasn't quite ready to post, I'm hungry and I haven't had near enough coffee, so this should be interesting.&lt;br /&gt;The American Cancer Society is selling bundles of daffodils today.  I bought two bunches.  This is half of what I normally purchase, but they went up $2/bunch from last year and I'm a bit low on cash today.  This is now my reminder notice to send a "guilt" donation.  What a great cause, though.  I've known and currently know too many people who have or are currently fighting this horrible disease. &lt;br /&gt;Since this is my first post I won't be jumping on any of my many, many, many soapboxes today.  Well, I'm starving and my lunch date is calling.  But don't worry - you can't get rid of me that easy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/861554054486218534-8421547633810656575?l=snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/feeds/8421547633810656575/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=861554054486218534&amp;postID=8421547633810656575&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/8421547633810656575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/861554054486218534/posts/default/8421547633810656575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snicklechickensniffer.blogspot.com/2008/03/im-blogging-im-really-really-blogging.html' title='I&apos;m blogging, I&apos;m really, really blogging.'/><author><name>NedaAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01530671833759403477</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5z4ER6XBmpU/R9qoy78ejwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/sR7LyClaxPY/S220/Trinity_7898.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
