<?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-4238698924819623256</id><updated>2012-02-16T09:45:47.467-05:00</updated><category term='Me'/><category term='boyfriend'/><category term='birthday'/><category term='obsessions'/><category term='food'/><category term='holidays'/><category term='family'/><category term='youth'/><category term='crockpot'/><category term='pets'/><category term='party'/><category term='birth'/><category term='dog'/><category term='sister'/><category term='luck'/><category term='rant'/><category term='kids'/><category term='life'/><category term='friends'/><title type='text'>Didn't I Just Clean That Up?</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4238698924819623256/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Beth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16485890633313611574</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2RT-xD6sjiM/SSD4x-4AjAI/AAAAAAAAAAM/m-C5XC5QDuE/S220/IMG_5699.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>18</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4238698924819623256.post-8880922316128640377</id><published>2009-03-11T10:01:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-11T10:43:37.767-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='luck'/><title type='text'>Maytag</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Yesterday, Maytag announced that it was recalling 1.6 million refrigerators due to a fire hazard.  There have been 41 reported "incidents" with 16 resulting in damage ranging from smoke damage to major kitchen damage.  Just to show you how lucky I am, I am one of those 16.....out of 1.6 million.&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;We bought our Maytag refrigerator in 2003, when we moved into our new house.  In September 2007, we returned home from an outing while my parents were in town to our house filled with smoke, and my dog trembling and cowering near the door we would return through.  At first we weren't sure what was going on.  We had no idea where the smoke was coming from, but we quickly called the fire department.  After much hoopla, and fortunately no need for water to be sprayed anywhere, it was determined that there was an explosion of sorts from the refrigerator (evident by the soot all over the cabinets surrounding the appliance, and all over the wall), and an electrical fire had begun.  The fire chief told us we were lucky we had come home when we had, or things could have "progressed" quickly.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I found this very upsetting.  What if this had happened at night?  Our bedrooms are all upstairs, and we have two young children.  Would we have heard the "explosion"?  When would the smoke detectors have gone off (they were not sounding when we got home)?  And my parents were staying with us.  My dad suffered a stroke 2 years prior to this event and uses a cane.  Stairs are a major procedure for him.  If he had been stuck upstairs at night....I can't even bear to think what could've happened.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;After contacting Maytag the next morning, they informed us that they would send out a technician to look at the refrigerator in a few days.  After some balking, we managed to be able to have someone come the next morning.  The technician was shocked at the damage and told us that all of the major working parts would need to be replaced.  Replaced?  As in new parts put in what was left of the burned fridge?  Yes, that's probably what Maytag will do.  Unacceptable to us, DH and I both spent almost 2 weeks calling Maytag and arguing with them over this.  The appliance was burned!  How could we comfortably ever plug it in again?  Even with new guts......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;After a week, they agreed to give us a pro-rated replacement amount.  That sounded ok, until they explained it.  They average the life expectancy of a refrigerator to be 13 years.... and we had already gotten about 3 1/2 years out of it.  So, if we provided them with our original receipt, they would take the price we paid and basically pay us for the "unused years".  Except, at that point, I couldn't put my hand on the receipt.  So, what I knew we paid $1500 -$1600 for, they will then use the lowest price it ever sold for to do the calculations....which was only $999!  In the end, they offered to send us a check for $300!!  What kind of a replacement were we supposed to get for $300?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;It took us another week of phone calls and arguing (again my mom was somewhere rolling her eyes) to finally tire of us and agree to buy back the burned refrigerator for our full price (I found the receipt in the end!).  Our blood pressure had probably skyrocketed during that time, and not to mention the huge inconvenience of not having a refrigerator in a household with, at the time, a 2 year old and a 6 year old.  But the moral here is that the squeaky wheel gets the oil.  If we had taken their first offer, we would have had to shell  out a lot more money out of our pocket....that we had just done 3 years prior!  Persistence paid off....and look, we weren't alone!  There truly was a legitimate issue and it's taken them this long to announce it.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;DH and I have vowed not to buy a Maytag appliance again.  The difficult part is that they also make Whirlpool, Jenn-Air, Amana, and other brands!  It makes it very hard to take your business elsewhere when they're all owned by the same company! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4238698924819623256-8880922316128640377?l=didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com/feeds/8880922316128640377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4238698924819623256&amp;postID=8880922316128640377' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4238698924819623256/posts/default/8880922316128640377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4238698924819623256/posts/default/8880922316128640377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com/2009/03/maytag.html' title='Maytag'/><author><name>Beth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16485890633313611574</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2RT-xD6sjiM/SSD4x-4AjAI/AAAAAAAAAAM/m-C5XC5QDuE/S220/IMG_5699.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4238698924819623256.post-2234887269117700335</id><published>2009-03-09T10:17:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-09T10:26:39.422-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids'/><title type='text'>Ah, The Things They Say....</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;A short, funny, kid story that I had to share...mostly because I will probably forget that it happened by next week and I've been saying forever that "I should really write this stuff down".&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;This morning, we were in the car, driving &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;DS&lt;/span&gt; to school.  He was chatting away about something and DD started talking over him.  (She does this a lot, and I've been trying to teach her not to interrupt....I'm not succeeding.)  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;DS&lt;/span&gt; immediately yelled at her to be quiet.  I tried my normal approach, again, and said, "You are interrupting again."  She quickly retorted, "Why do you keep saying that Mommy?  I am not a volcano!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I'm going to assume that I don't need to explain anything further.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;DS&lt;/span&gt; and I couldn't help but laugh.  It made my morning!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4238698924819623256-2234887269117700335?l=didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com/feeds/2234887269117700335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4238698924819623256&amp;postID=2234887269117700335' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4238698924819623256/posts/default/2234887269117700335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4238698924819623256/posts/default/2234887269117700335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com/2009/03/ah-things-they-say.html' title='Ah, The Things They Say....'/><author><name>Beth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16485890633313611574</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2RT-xD6sjiM/SSD4x-4AjAI/AAAAAAAAAAM/m-C5XC5QDuE/S220/IMG_5699.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4238698924819623256.post-8032675007955023374</id><published>2009-03-07T19:14:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-07T20:02:12.924-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='luck'/><title type='text'>We've stepped in it again!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I've realized that I talk about poo a lot.  I don't mean to, but it finds me....I swear.&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Take today, for instance.  DH is on an almost 2 week long business trip.  We're half way in, and doing just fine, but a weekend day with no plans makes us all feel his absence.  So, I decided to take the kids on a day trip.  We ventured to a children's museum that took me a little more than an hour to get to.  It was wonderful, the kids were wonderful, and I was feeling like Super Mom.  We left the museum for a late lunch, and I quickly realized that McDonald's was the only recognizable restaurant in the middle of Amish Country.  As we ate, I was thinking to myself that this is the dirtiest McD's I've ever seen.  The soda/condiment bar was sticky, drippy, and yucky.  Little did I know, that was nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Seeing as how it was 70 degrees out today, after we ate, the kids went to play on the outdoor playset.  Up they scampered to the top, and DS was first out of the twisty slide.  He came running over to me to ask what was on his shoe.  One look and I knew.  But, oh, how I prayed it was chocolate.  So I sniffed it to be sure.  Nope, certified diarrhea.  On the top and toe part of my son's meshy fabric Nikes.  Needless to say, I freaked.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I ran inside and told one of the cashiers that apparently there was diarrhea inside of the playset and my son's shoe was covered in it.  Then (and this is the good part) she turned to a fellow cashier and told her, "Hey, that kid that had the accident in the playset before....well now it's on this kid's shoe."  YOU KNEW IT WAS THERE???  Now I was not only freaked out, but furious to boot.  I asked if they had something I could use to clean off DS's shoe.  They gave me damp napkins.  DAMP NAPKINS!!  For germ infested diarrhea from a stranger!!  Get me the manager.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;So, I complained.  My mom would have you believe I am a chronic complainer...but seriously....wouldn't you?  The manager had the nerve to tell me that there wasn't anything he could do for me, he can't be held responsible for negligent parents who don't inform him of their children having an accident inside of the playset, and....he really couldn't be sure that DS would need new sneakers anyway.  Are you kidding me?  It's mesh....and coated in poo!!  And your cashiers obviously knew about the offending child, so don't tell me you didn't know!!  And could I please have something stronger than a damp napkin???  My blood was boiling!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;On my way out of there, one of the cashiers asked me if there was anything else she could do for me.  I think I snorted out loud at that point, but I asked her where the outlets were (one of my friends had told me I'd be near them)....and apparently she wasn't clear on what outlets were.  And no, she wasn't Amish.  I told her I clearly needed to buy new sneakers.  She couldn't think of one athletic shoe type place to direct me to.  The best she came up with was the supermarket....she thought they sold Crocs there.  Why would I spend $30 on Crocs when DS was going to need new sneakers?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;So I got in my car, and started to drive.  It took me a half an hour of  dairy farms to come across a shopping center with a sporting goods store.....and much gagging in the car as it started to stink of diarrhea.  (The only reason I didn't toss them at McD's was because I thought he'd need some type of shoe to walk into a store to buy new ones.)  I did eventually get him new sneakers, and we threw the dirty ones out at the store, but seriously....trouble found me again!  Just my luck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4238698924819623256-8032675007955023374?l=didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com/feeds/8032675007955023374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4238698924819623256&amp;postID=8032675007955023374' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4238698924819623256/posts/default/8032675007955023374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4238698924819623256/posts/default/8032675007955023374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com/2009/03/weve-stepped-in-it-again.html' title='We&apos;ve stepped in it again!'/><author><name>Beth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16485890633313611574</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2RT-xD6sjiM/SSD4x-4AjAI/AAAAAAAAAAM/m-C5XC5QDuE/S220/IMG_5699.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4238698924819623256.post-5670963438074157628</id><published>2009-01-29T17:21:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T17:31:59.121-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><title type='text'>Randomness</title><content type='html'>It took me far too long to fill this out on Facebook, so I thought it could do double duty.  :)  Things are sort of quieting down here, so I need to get back into the swing of blogging.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;25 Random Things About Me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1.  I truly believe that everything happens for a reason.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2.  I like to laugh until it hurts... or I pee, whichever comes first.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3.  I've only left my time zone twice - both times within the last 5 years.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4.  I love the way a large Dunkin' Donuts' cup of coffee feels in my hands.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5.  I say mean things when I get mad, and I frequently hold grudges.  I have trouble holding my tongue.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;6.  I am anal about how my dishwasher is loaded.  People who know me, know not to help with the dishes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;7.  I've lost 17 pounds since August with the help of a Wii Fit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;8.  I have a very low tolerance for ignorance and irresponsibility.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;9.  Sometimes I wonder if I'm being a good enough mom.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;10.  I occasionally mutilate words, or make up my own, during the course of conversation.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;11.  In my head, I often hear moments in my life set to music.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;12.  I am a compulsive list maker, yet a terrible procrastinator.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;13.  I had a math minor in college, yet I've never been able to balance a checkbook....and I have difficulty calculating percentage-off sales.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;14.  I didn't realize I loved my husband's rottweiler until she died.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;15.  I've always wished I could sing.  I can't.  And my kids ask me not to.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;16.  I have an internet addiction.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;17.  I secretly like Britney Spears' music.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;18.  I despise being told what to do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;19.  The scariest moment in my life was when my husband was wheeled into brain surgery when I was 3 months pregnant with our second child.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;20.  I hate shaving my legs.  I do it reluctantly for my husband's sake.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;21.  Children are an amazing gift, but I don't think being a parent is for everyone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;22.  When my time as a stay-at-home mom ends (and my husband assures me it will), I don't know what I want to do next.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;23.  My dad's stroke almost 4 years ago taught me that there are no guarantees in life.  You can plan all you want, but life can change drastically in an instant.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;24.  I regret not having my tubes tied during my last c-section.  I now know, I'm done.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;25.  I wouldn't trade places with anyone, for anything.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4238698924819623256-5670963438074157628?l=didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com/feeds/5670963438074157628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4238698924819623256&amp;postID=5670963438074157628' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4238698924819623256/posts/default/5670963438074157628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4238698924819623256/posts/default/5670963438074157628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com/2009/01/randomness_29.html' title='Randomness'/><author><name>Beth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16485890633313611574</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2RT-xD6sjiM/SSD4x-4AjAI/AAAAAAAAAAM/m-C5XC5QDuE/S220/IMG_5699.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4238698924819623256.post-7227414674790408636</id><published>2009-01-15T12:07:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T22:11:25.679-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><title type='text'>M.I.A.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I've been M.I.A. lately.  Things here have been crazy, and not necessarily in a good way.  I'm used to being thrown curve balls and facing disaster..... perhaps twitching a little, but generally laughing at my luck, or lack of luck.  2009 started off that way.  My garage door opener broke and my TV blew within 2 days of each other.  The garage door itself is new within the last year (since I had backed into the old one and cracked the sucker in half before that).  But now it's the opener itself.  And the TV was only a few years old, yet was 21 days out of warranty....so it would have required a $900 repair (we opted for a new one).  I can laugh at this because it's just so...."us".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;However, DH has gotten word that his job is going to formally ask him to relocate.  If at all possible, (meaning, if there is another means for a paycheck) this is not something we want to do at this point.  And, to top it off, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;DH's&lt;/span&gt; mom has been in the hospital for a week...and counting.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Job stress and parent/health stress are not funny.  There's nothing to laugh about there.  I'm having trouble feeling inspired to write anything.  I'm just feeling overwhelmed and less and less in control.  Hopefully I'll be able to find some humor in the mundane soon.  Until then...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4238698924819623256-7227414674790408636?l=didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com/feeds/7227414674790408636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4238698924819623256&amp;postID=7227414674790408636' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4238698924819623256/posts/default/7227414674790408636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4238698924819623256/posts/default/7227414674790408636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com/2009/01/mia.html' title='M.I.A.'/><author><name>Beth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16485890633313611574</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2RT-xD6sjiM/SSD4x-4AjAI/AAAAAAAAAAM/m-C5XC5QDuE/S220/IMG_5699.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4238698924819623256.post-8520231732214295023</id><published>2008-12-23T11:20:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-24T13:12:13.645-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='holidays'/><title type='text'>Dear Santa...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;My kids started drafting their lists for Santa before Thanksgiving.  DD announced that she doesn't "know words", so she took the toy books and circled what she'd like.  Oh, and she'd also drag us to the TV when a commercial came on for something she thought she wanted.  DS, in all his anality (Is that a word?  Spell checker says no, but it is now!), made a very detailed chart...making categories, and sub-categories for his wished-for items.  DS, I know, doesn't really care about all the "categories".  Most of the time, he only gravitates towards books (reading or puzzle type books), sporting equipment (or just a ball), or video games/computer stuff.  I humor him by acknowledging that he's adding some action figures to his list, knowing darn well he would never play with them.  He is ultra-conservative with his reactions on Christmas morning.  He would never dream of jumping up and down screaming over getting a special gift.  Yet, DH tries.  Every year, DH tries to hone in on the most coveted gift, yearning for that elusive Christmas morning reaction.  It's yet to happen.  And I'm doubting it will happen this year either....and not for lack of trying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I listened carefully this year to the kids' wishes.  DD talked non-stop about Dora and the Prancing Pegasus, and &lt;a href="http://www.target.com/MGA-Chou-Bye-Baby/dp/B0019FE4VQ/sr=1-1/qid=1230051604/ref=sr_1_1/601-0266752-8903325?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;index=target&amp;amp;rh=k%3Abye%20bye%20baby%20chou%20chou&amp;amp;page=1"&gt;Bye-Bye Baby Chou Chou&lt;/a&gt;.  Her birthday was in November, and she got Dora and the Prancing Pegasus.  She reacts with emotion, whether excitement or disappointment.  She was beyond thrilled and it has been played with daily for the last month.  (However the darn Pegasus is taking a beating....it has one gimpy leg and the wings are temperamental about opening up already.)  Santa scored Bye-Bye Baby Chou Chou at good price!  I was so excited!  DS was exposed to Guitar Hero on a recent trip with friends and that was the item on the top of his list....for the last month or so.  DH and I hunted for the best deal, and tried to decided which "instruments" made the most sense for our house.  We decided on the &lt;a href="http://www.target.com/Guitar-Hero-World-Bundle-PlayStation/dp/B001ABN834/qid=1230051853/ref=br_1_3/601-0266752-8903325?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;node=1239424011&amp;amp;frombrowse=1&amp;amp;rh=&amp;amp;page=1"&gt;Guitar Hero World Tour&lt;/a&gt; edition with the dual guitars.  Perfect!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Except, it's not.  DD was playing with a little girl recently who had &lt;a href="http://www.target.com/Baby-Alive-Go-Bye-Doll/dp/B00160GKX4/sr=1-2/qid=1230051463/ref=sr_1_2/601-0266752-8903325?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;index=target&amp;amp;rh=k%3Abye%20bye%20baby%20alive&amp;amp;page=1"&gt;Baby Alive Baby Go Bye Bye&lt;/a&gt;.  A much cheesier option, I'll add.  And as we trekked through Target's toy department recently, she pointed to &lt;a href="http://www.target.com/Baby-Alive-Go-Bye-Doll/dp/B00160GKX4/sr=1-2/qid=1230051463/ref=sr_1_2/601-0266752-8903325?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;index=target&amp;amp;rh=k%3Abye%20bye%20baby%20alive&amp;amp;page=1"&gt;Baby Alive Baby Go Bye Bye &lt;/a&gt;and said that was the doll she wanted!  I showed her &lt;a href="http://www.target.com/MGA-Chou-Bye-Baby/dp/B0019FE4VQ/sr=1-1/qid=1230051604/ref=sr_1_1/601-0266752-8903325?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;index=target&amp;amp;rh=k%3Abye%20bye%20baby%20chou%20chou&amp;amp;page=1"&gt;Baby Chou Chou&lt;/a&gt; and told her this was the one she asked for.  "I don't want THAT one, I want THIS one!"  Damn.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;At dinner last night, DS was counting down the days till Christmas.  DH asked him what he was most hoping to get.  His response....&lt;a href="http://www.target.com/Madden-NFL-09-PlayStation-3/dp/B0012N7BSI/sr=1-12/qid=1230051721/ref=sr_1_12/601-0266752-8903325?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;index=target&amp;amp;rh=k%3Amadden%20game&amp;amp;page=1"&gt;Madden '09&lt;/a&gt; for the Playstation!!!!  What happened to Guitar Hero???  Needless, to say, the shopping is finished and neither child will be getting their "revised" top pick.  The whole point of the list is to stick to it!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4238698924819623256-8520231732214295023?l=didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com/feeds/8520231732214295023/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4238698924819623256&amp;postID=8520231732214295023' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4238698924819623256/posts/default/8520231732214295023'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4238698924819623256/posts/default/8520231732214295023'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com/2008/12/dear-santa.html' title='Dear Santa...'/><author><name>Beth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16485890633313611574</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2RT-xD6sjiM/SSD4x-4AjAI/AAAAAAAAAAM/m-C5XC5QDuE/S220/IMG_5699.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4238698924819623256.post-8477169385315226705</id><published>2008-12-23T10:08:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-23T10:13:15.741-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dog'/><title type='text'>Champagne with that caviar?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;We have snow!  And it's a beautiful thing.....except for one (ok, maybe more, but one I'll mention) side effect.  The rabbits that are still lurking in my yard are unseen, except for the poop that rests on top of the snow.  Tiny dark balls are scattered all over.  Gross enough.  But my dog seems to think these are delicacies.  I can not get her to stop eating them!!  This morning I was gagging as I watched her nibble them up on her morning outing.  She seems to think they're doggie caviar!  I need to make sure she doesn't lick my face anymore!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4238698924819623256-8477169385315226705?l=didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com/feeds/8477169385315226705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4238698924819623256&amp;postID=8477169385315226705' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4238698924819623256/posts/default/8477169385315226705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4238698924819623256/posts/default/8477169385315226705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com/2008/12/champagne-with-that-caviar.html' title='Champagne with that caviar?'/><author><name>Beth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16485890633313611574</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2RT-xD6sjiM/SSD4x-4AjAI/AAAAAAAAAAM/m-C5XC5QDuE/S220/IMG_5699.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4238698924819623256.post-2566589796052306072</id><published>2008-12-14T12:33:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T13:01:44.173-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='obsessions'/><title type='text'>I'm a Junkie</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;My name is Beth, and I am an addict.  It doesn't seem to matter to what....I have realized that I get hooked, very easily, on a lot of things.  To name a few: coffee, wine (not to problematic levels, but I do enjoy it), facebook, The Weather Channel, the internet, and lately, and most dangerously, online shopping.  I obsess.  I can't think of anything else.  And if I don't get a fix, well, it's just not pretty.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I always thought I was normal.  Easy going, laid back....but I'm seeing myself lately as obsessive.  What's wrong with me?  I check the hourly weather forecast numerous times a day.  Is that necessary?  I hit refresh on my email homepage more times than I'd like to admit.  And facebook....forget about it.  I'm not even going to go there.  Not helping matters is the fact that I keep my laptop in my kitchen.  Every time I walk by, I'm sucked in.  DH has thought about limiting the amount of time I have access to the internet, but isn't that treating me like a child?  Like how I limit the amount of time DS plays his video games.  I'm an adult.  I should be able to get a handle on this.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I realize the season isn't helping the shopping problem.  So, hopefully, it will come to an end shortly.  But I did stumble upon a blog that tracks sales (&lt;a href="http://wantnot.net"&gt;wantnot.net&lt;/a&gt;).  It is updated a number of times a day....so I check even more frequently.  I'd hate to miss a great deal!  (In my defense, I have managed to score the Leap Frog learning globe for $49, a Melissa &amp;amp; Doug easel for $29, and I am diligently tracking price adjustments at Target...so far they've refunded me $36.)  Perhaps my obsessions aren't really hurting anyone, but actually helping!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4238698924819623256-2566589796052306072?l=didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com/feeds/2566589796052306072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4238698924819623256&amp;postID=2566589796052306072' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4238698924819623256/posts/default/2566589796052306072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4238698924819623256/posts/default/2566589796052306072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com/2008/12/im-junkie.html' title='I&apos;m a Junkie'/><author><name>Beth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16485890633313611574</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2RT-xD6sjiM/SSD4x-4AjAI/AAAAAAAAAAM/m-C5XC5QDuE/S220/IMG_5699.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4238698924819623256.post-7382109204510853407</id><published>2008-12-09T09:40:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T09:49:31.928-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pets'/><title type='text'>Crazy Eyes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2RT-xD6sjiM/ST6Eyv-z7LI/AAAAAAAAAAo/tAWGux2bOBo/s1600-h/IMG_5963.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2RT-xD6sjiM/ST6Eyv-z7LI/AAAAAAAAAAo/tAWGux2bOBo/s320/IMG_5963.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277801820733041842" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;DH took the kids to the pet store the other night.  We can't seem to keep fish alive in our tank, so we just keep replenishing them.  He made the mistake of letting them each pick out 3 specific fish each....as "pets".  So, now, when they kick the bucket, which we know they will, we'll have to deal with the kids crying over the death of a pet again.  DS, in particular, is very sensitive, so he'll surely take it hard.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;One of the fish that DS picked is unlike anything I've noticed in the pet store before.  We've affectionately dubbed it "Crazy Eyes".  I don't think this picture does him justice, but his eyes are, in fact, crazy.  They are on top of his head, not on the side like normal fish.  They look up, and he almost has a cross eyed look to him.  DS said the pet store had this fish in a tank all by itself and he thought the fish would like to come home and have some friends.  DS has empathy for the crazy eyed fish.  I thought it might be a deformity and signal impending death...and tears.  DH says it's an actual type of fish.  Have you ever seen a fish like this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4238698924819623256-7382109204510853407?l=didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com/feeds/7382109204510853407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4238698924819623256&amp;postID=7382109204510853407' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4238698924819623256/posts/default/7382109204510853407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4238698924819623256/posts/default/7382109204510853407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com/2008/12/crazy-eyes.html' title='Crazy Eyes'/><author><name>Beth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16485890633313611574</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2RT-xD6sjiM/SSD4x-4AjAI/AAAAAAAAAAM/m-C5XC5QDuE/S220/IMG_5699.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2RT-xD6sjiM/ST6Eyv-z7LI/AAAAAAAAAAo/tAWGux2bOBo/s72-c/IMG_5963.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4238698924819623256.post-7372680115373106349</id><published>2008-12-05T19:11:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-05T19:26:48.589-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='holidays'/><title type='text'>'Tis the Season</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I bought my kids Advent calendars this week.  Unfortunately, I wasn't prepared on December 1st, so when we got them on Wednesday, we had to open up 3 windows at once.  Much to my kids' delight, they got to enjoy 3 chocolates at once.  Last night, DH was on duty, and forgot to do the calendar.  So, tonight, after dinner, I went to help the kids open two windows...and enjoy two chocolate treats.  I hadn't labeled the calendars with their names since they were identical and would be eaten at the same pace.  I had "stored" them on my kitchen counter, standing upright, in a corner.  I grabbed them both and noticed that the front calendar had a number of windows flapping open.  At first, I thought we got jipped...that maybe they were empty when I bought them.  Then I remembered the cellophane wrapper and ruled that out.  As I was figuring out what was going on, DD ran and hid.  That's when I knew.....&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;My DD stole candies out of the Advent calendar!  The thief!  Somehow, she must've climbed/reached the calendars and cracked open 5 extra days!  And even the special, larger, Christmas Eve candy is gone!  Isn't that like, sacrilege or something?  So typical....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4238698924819623256-7372680115373106349?l=didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com/feeds/7372680115373106349/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4238698924819623256&amp;postID=7372680115373106349' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4238698924819623256/posts/default/7372680115373106349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4238698924819623256/posts/default/7372680115373106349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com/2008/12/tis-season.html' title='&apos;Tis the Season'/><author><name>Beth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16485890633313611574</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2RT-xD6sjiM/SSD4x-4AjAI/AAAAAAAAAAM/m-C5XC5QDuE/S220/IMG_5699.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4238698924819623256.post-690756672375969617</id><published>2008-12-04T16:45:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-04T16:56:07.928-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><title type='text'>The Break Up?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I have plans next week to meet my friend for breakfast.  I made these plans with her in October.  Actually, we made plans to have lunch together...and she didn't have an "opening" until December.  She only lives 10 minutes away from me too.  I was notified of the switch to breakfast last week.  Apparently she's very busy.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;We used to work together...up until last year.  Just a fluffy little job, so we had plenty of time to chat there.  But once we both quit, we kind of drifted.  I'm not really sure why either.  I enjoyed her company.  She was funny, and sarcastic, and always had a story.  So, I miss her.  Yet, I'm kind of nervous about meeting her next week.  I ran into her at a baseball game over the summer, but other than that, I have not seen her in months.  I think we broke up.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Do friends break up?  And if so, why are we meeting up?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4238698924819623256-690756672375969617?l=didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com/feeds/690756672375969617/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4238698924819623256&amp;postID=690756672375969617' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4238698924819623256/posts/default/690756672375969617'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4238698924819623256/posts/default/690756672375969617'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com/2008/12/break-up.html' title='The Break Up?'/><author><name>Beth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16485890633313611574</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2RT-xD6sjiM/SSD4x-4AjAI/AAAAAAAAAAM/m-C5XC5QDuE/S220/IMG_5699.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4238698924819623256.post-5006134041875064013</id><published>2008-12-03T10:49:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-03T10:58:00.803-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crockpot'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Crock Pot Cooking</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I am new to the world of blogging.  New to writing, new to reading.  I'm fascinated by what I'm finding "out there" that people blog about.  I don't have a specific topic, but a lot of people do.  I just stumbled upon a great blog last night called &lt;a href="http://crockpot365.blogspot.com/"&gt;A Year of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;CrockPotting&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;.  I love my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;crock pots&lt;/span&gt;.  I know most people will say it's one of those useless appliances, but mine are front and center.  Meat comes out moist and tender.  And of course, I don't have to stop in the middle of the afternoon to think about what's for dinner.  I have a number of tried and true recipes that I stick to, but this blog documents using a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;crock pot&lt;/span&gt; every day for an entire year!!  It's going to take me a while to go through the site, but what I glanced at last night made me very excited!  If you haven't used a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;crock pot&lt;/span&gt;, I strongly suggest you do!  I'm sure you could find a recipe on this blog...or maybe I'd even share one of mine.  ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4238698924819623256-5006134041875064013?l=didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com/feeds/5006134041875064013/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4238698924819623256&amp;postID=5006134041875064013' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4238698924819623256/posts/default/5006134041875064013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4238698924819623256/posts/default/5006134041875064013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com/2008/12/crock-pot-cooking.html' title='Crock Pot Cooking'/><author><name>Beth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16485890633313611574</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2RT-xD6sjiM/SSD4x-4AjAI/AAAAAAAAAAM/m-C5XC5QDuE/S220/IMG_5699.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4238698924819623256.post-8903204636335847432</id><published>2008-12-02T09:39:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-02T09:59:19.505-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='youth'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sister'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boyfriend'/><title type='text'>Out With the Old</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Recently, my sister and her family decided to move out of their house and into my parents' house.  My parents have a Cape Cod style house, so my sister, her husband, two babies, and two dogs are living in the upstairs - what was her and my old bedrooms.  Needless to say, in order for them to fit, the shrine to my younger years had to go.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I was completely ok with this.  I mean, I've been on a decluttering kick at my own house for the last year and a half, so it makes sense that they'd get rid of the stuff that's been sitting in my old room for the last 10 years.  In fact, I was asked if there was anything I wanted out of the room.  Aside from my old flute, I figured I clearly didn't need anything that had been sitting there untouched for the last decade.  But aren't pictures different?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Since I'm living in a different state, I wasn't there to do the clearing out myself (not that I'd want to...).  So, I was relying on my mom and sister to do the job.  Old size 4 jeans, college text books, stuffed animals.....all the things I was thinking they'd toss.  Then, I got the news.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;In high school, I had one real boyfriend.  Only one.  My sister went through boyfriends frequently, but not me.  Apparently, I had left a gift box in my old room with mementos from that relationship.  Little things, nothing major.  But there were pictures.  We're not talking a whole album here....probably a dozen or less.  In my mind they were proof that this one boyfriend had existed, and frankly, a part of my history.  And my sister threw them out!  She told me at Thanksgiving in a very "oh, by the way" sort of way, and finished up with "You didn't want them, did you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;What am I supposed to say to that?  They're gone already, right?  Was I going to frame them and hang them in my family room?  No.  But when I'm 80, maybe I'd like to show my grandkids a picture or two of their granny with big hair and a boyfriend.  I'm just saying.  Now, I will only have my wedding pictures show.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4238698924819623256-8903204636335847432?l=didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com/feeds/8903204636335847432/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4238698924819623256&amp;postID=8903204636335847432' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4238698924819623256/posts/default/8903204636335847432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4238698924819623256/posts/default/8903204636335847432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com/2008/12/out-with-old.html' title='Out With the Old'/><author><name>Beth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16485890633313611574</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2RT-xD6sjiM/SSD4x-4AjAI/AAAAAAAAAAM/m-C5XC5QDuE/S220/IMG_5699.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4238698924819623256.post-9215132177150778554</id><published>2008-11-25T14:11:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-25T14:46:06.775-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Peppermint Chocolate Chip</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I've been making a conscious effort lately to eat better and less.  Never before have I been so aware of calories and fat content.  It's been an eye opener, to say the least.  I look at what I used to eat and I'm realizing that my weight gain in recent years was not entirely the fault of my children.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;For instance, I went through a phase where I was addicted to the mint chocolate chip milkshakes at Chick-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;fil&lt;/span&gt;-A.  I had no idea how many calories were in that little bit of heaven.  I would crave them, and satisfy that craving a few times a week.  They were so accessible with a drive-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;thru&lt;/span&gt; window!  I was devastated when they stopped serving the mint chip flavor.  Sure, I had seen the balloons and signs advertising the flavor as a limited time only thing...but it had been months.  And I was hooked.  I tried the cookies and cream flavor, but it was a sorry substitute.  I went through a withdrawal of sorts, and got off the milkshake band wagon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Yesterday, DH and I made a pit stop in Chick-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;fil&lt;/span&gt;-A for lunch...for the first time in a long time.  They now have balloons up advertising a new milkshake flavor, for a limited time only.  Peppermint chocolate chip.  Good lord, that sounds divine.  I was so tempted.  DH was telling me to order it.  I resisted.  I wasn't going to let them get me hooked on a limited time only flavor again, only to have them discontinue selling it.  But it was tough.  As I started to waiver, I grabbed one of their nutritional information brochures.  I nearly fell over.  One peppermint chocolate chip milkshake has 850 calories!!!  No wonder I gained 10 pounds last summer during the mint chip addiction!  I had no idea it could be that bad.  Like I said, calories are a totally new concept to me and 850 is enough to keep me away from that milkshake....at least for a little while.  :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4238698924819623256-9215132177150778554?l=didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com/feeds/9215132177150778554/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4238698924819623256&amp;postID=9215132177150778554' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4238698924819623256/posts/default/9215132177150778554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4238698924819623256/posts/default/9215132177150778554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com/2008/11/peppermint-chocolate-chip.html' title='Peppermint Chocolate Chip'/><author><name>Beth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16485890633313611574</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2RT-xD6sjiM/SSD4x-4AjAI/AAAAAAAAAAM/m-C5XC5QDuE/S220/IMG_5699.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4238698924819623256.post-3305560081109684014</id><published>2008-11-24T10:37:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-24T10:54:39.049-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rant'/><title type='text'>Expiration Dates</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I just went to grab something out of our spare fridge, and noticed that I have a half of a case of Trix yogurt out there.  And it expires next week.  I guess we bought it on our last BJ's run, but really, how much yogurt can we force our kids to eat?  Especially since we have Halloween candy being rationed out, and now birthday cake leftovers....and soon to have Thanksgiving goodies.  I hate buying things in bulk, and then wasting half of it because you can't eat it fast enough.&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Speaking of expiration dates though.....my mind is boggled by the "Best by..." stamp on so many items that I wasn't aware ever expired.  I understand food products.  I am petrified of salmonella, botulism, and even freezer burn.  So, we follow those dates pretty closely.  But soda and water expire now.  What's up with that?  Maybe soda goes flat, but what's the deal with water?  What could possibly happen to bottled water?  I just loaded my dishwasher and noticed an expiration date on the detergent bottle.  Really?  Soap goes bad?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Is this all a marketing ploy?  So that, if you buy in bulk, and can't use up your detergent fast enough, you'll notice that expiration date and buy more anyway?  Maybe, after that date, it won't clean the salmonella germs off of the cutting board I used when I cut up my raw chicken!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4238698924819623256-3305560081109684014?l=didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com/feeds/3305560081109684014/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4238698924819623256&amp;postID=3305560081109684014' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4238698924819623256/posts/default/3305560081109684014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4238698924819623256/posts/default/3305560081109684014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com/2008/11/expiration-dates.html' title='Expiration Dates'/><author><name>Beth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16485890633313611574</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2RT-xD6sjiM/SSD4x-4AjAI/AAAAAAAAAAM/m-C5XC5QDuE/S220/IMG_5699.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4238698924819623256.post-4881657333196588451</id><published>2008-11-21T21:00:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-21T23:21:26.812-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='birth'/><title type='text'>Happy Birthday!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I sit here tonight reminiscing about four years ago.  Four years ago, I was 39 weeks pregnant with my second baby and had a c-section scheduled for the next morning (10 am to be exact).  That afternoon, my parents had arrived in town to stay with my son, who was 3 1/2 at the time.  I was all showered and packed and ready to welcome our daughter.  It was all going according to plan.....until 3 am.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;But first, the back history.  I am not one of those women who enjoy being pregnant.  I ached, I complained, I gagged, and I gained a lot of weight.  And, with #2, I was even more exhausted since I was keeping up with the activities of my first child.  My first baby was born via c-section (scheduled) at 37 1/2 weeks.  He was breech and large.  Despite being 2 1/2 weeks early, he was a healthy 8 pounds 4 ounces.  So, the second time around, I opted for a repeat c-section, and assumed the delivery would be at around the same point.   Much to my absolute horror, my new practice said they would not deliver the baby until 39 weeks!  I balked.  That extra week and a half was going to kill me, I was sure.  Or worse, what if I went into labor before then!?  (Then you come in and we deliver the baby was the answer to that.)  However, my concern was that, with a scheduled c-section, I should not need to labor!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;So, eventually, I was able to schedule my date for the c-section.  Wouldn't you know it, 39 weeks fell on a Monday.  I asked if we could do it on the Friday before since all of our family would be coming from NY and they could stay for the weekend before heading back to work.  A resounding, "No" was what I got.  Absolutely not before 39 weeks.  There was a chance the baby wouldn't be ready for the outside world before then.  Defeated, I scheduled it for the first day of the 39th week...Monday.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;When I went for my last office visit on the Friday before D-day, I was getting really worried that I might go into labor.  I told them that I didn't think I was going to make it to Monday.  The doctor told me that I was sealed shut (TMI, I know), and she didn't foresee anything happening.  "But how will I even know what labor feels like if it starts?"  (Not having labored the first time around.)  She had the nerve to tell me that it's instinct....you just know.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;So, fast forward to 3 am, the night before D-day.  I wake up.  My stomach hurts.  Wow, what a yucky feeling.  I get up, thinking I have to go to the bathroom.  My stomach feels crampy, but I feel like I need to make a #2 (again, TMI, I know).  I had been anemic this pregnancy, and had been taking iron pills, which led to some constipation.  I thought this was the problem, and tried to "go".  No luck.  Try to go back to bed.  Yucky feeling won't go away.  Turn on QVC.  Hmmm, cute Dorney &amp;amp; Bourke bags they're selling.  Need to go to the bathroom.  Go back in, push...nothing....just pee.  Go back to bed.  Hmm, another cute bag.  Back to bathroom.....damn, more pee, but I missed the toilet.  Think to myself I'm a sloppy, incontinent pregnant woman.  Sick of being pregnant, mutter, mutter.  This went on for quite some time.  My DH would occasionally wake up and ask if I was OK.  I told him I was just constipated and trying to "go".  After a couple of hours, I realized I was running to the bathroom trying to poo every 9 minutes, with no luck.  That's odd.  A pattern.  I woke DH to tell him of my need-to-poo pattern.  He wanted to know if I thought the baby was ok.  I told him the baby was fine, I felt like crap (literally).  By 6 am, he'd had enough of my every 5 minutes poo run.  He thought we should call the doctor.  I thought I could wait until we had to be in at our scheduled 8am prep time.  I ran to the bathroom to try one last time to push that poo out while he called the doctor... who said to come right away.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;When we got to the hospital, I refused to be dropped off at the door, and made him park the car and walk in with me.  I had to stop a number of times due to the pressure in my "lady parts".  Oh, and the crotch of my pants were soaked.  I'm not sure when in the last hour that it dawned on me what was going on, but at some point I did realize it wasn't poo.  My instincts, apparently took far too long to kick in though, and I didn't "just know".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;We finally made it up to Labor &amp;amp; Delivery (third floor, mind you) and they checked me out.  I was 7 cm dilated, and did I know when my water had broken!  So I wasn't an incontinent, sloppy pregnant woman!  At this point I yell for drugs, because when you're not planning on laboring, you have no coping skills.  They can't give me any painkillers because they were were going to bring me right into the operating room for delivery, and they'll give me anesthesia there.  But, I got bumped.  Some laboring mom's baby's heart rate dropped, and she needed an emergency c-section....I'd have to wait my turn....without drugs.  I was so mad.  This was not how this birth was supposed to play out.  Finally, my turn.  I get the epidural, and relief.  Then, during the delivery, the doctor had the nerve to joke with me that, see, they got the day right, they were just off a little on the time.  Not funny.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;DD made her debut at 8:15 am, on the day that we, and nature, had picked for her to be born....at a whopping 9 pounds 13 ounces.  She's going to be 4 tomorrow.  And because her fiasco of a birth still seems like yesterday to me, my childbirthing days are so very over.  :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4238698924819623256-4881657333196588451?l=didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com/feeds/4881657333196588451/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4238698924819623256&amp;postID=4881657333196588451' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4238698924819623256/posts/default/4881657333196588451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4238698924819623256/posts/default/4881657333196588451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com/2008/11/happy-birthday.html' title='Happy Birthday!'/><author><name>Beth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16485890633313611574</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2RT-xD6sjiM/SSD4x-4AjAI/AAAAAAAAAAM/m-C5XC5QDuE/S220/IMG_5699.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4238698924819623256.post-200550753866317007</id><published>2008-11-20T15:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-20T16:10:25.800-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='party'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='birthday'/><title type='text'>RSVP</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;My DD is turning 4 on Saturday.  We're throwing her a party on Sunday.  (Just an "at-home" party, but a party regardless.)  I've learned my lesson, from DS's previous parties, not to assume some kids won't come.  With his, I'd send out 20 invitations, (thinking it would be great if I could get 10-12 kids to come) and every last kid would show.  Mayhem.  So last year, I only invited a handful of kids to DD's party.  It was wonderful.   This year, following suit, I only invited the little girls in her preschool class, plus two she was friendly with from last year.  That makes 7 invitations that I sent out this year.  Today is the RSVP date.  I have only heard from 2 kids. Where are the other 5?  Are they waiting to see if a better offer comes in? Maybe a party at &lt;a href="http://bounceu.com/"&gt;Bounce U&lt;/a&gt; would be more appealing??  I just don't get it.  Yes or no.  It's really simple.  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4238698924819623256-200550753866317007?l=didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com/feeds/200550753866317007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4238698924819623256&amp;postID=200550753866317007' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4238698924819623256/posts/default/200550753866317007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4238698924819623256/posts/default/200550753866317007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com/2008/11/rsvp.html' title='RSVP'/><author><name>Beth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16485890633313611574</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2RT-xD6sjiM/SSD4x-4AjAI/AAAAAAAAAAM/m-C5XC5QDuE/S220/IMG_5699.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4238698924819623256.post-5861273892665485809</id><published>2008-11-19T23:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T23:22:24.114-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Post for the Sake of Posting</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Ok, so I'm a little under the gun to get started here (ahem).  Really, I've been meaning to start a blog for a long time now.  (Not because I'm a great writer, but sometimes, I need a witness to some of the odd things that happen in my day to day life.)  Time just has a way of escaping me.  Last year was a series of comedic tragedies, so I'm feeling a little inadequate and boring lately (although really relieved that I have not backed into any garage doors recently).  &lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;When I was in elementary school, they used to assign us "Current Events" assignments.  You know, where you cut an article out of the paper and fill out the who, what, when, where and why.  They tried to get us familiar with the newspaper, and to encourage us to read it.  I never did.  And not just as a kid either.  I've always had this feeling that I need to gather information, from the beginning.  Which, as far as newspapers are concerned, is a pretty daunting task.  How could I just jump into an article about an ongoing war, if I'm not familiar with why it started in the first place?  I'd need to start from the beginning.  So, instead of just jumping in, I tried to time it so I caught some newsworthy event from the start....and follow it.  Needless to say, I never did. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I mention this, because my friend has encouraged me to start this.  I have this hang up that I need to tell my stories from the beginning....for whoever is out there reading this.  An utterly overwhelming thought.  I'm trying to let that go.  So, I'm going to begin.  Right here, in the now.  But I will probably be referencing plenty from the past....there's so much good stuff back there!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;There.....my first post.  It's not much, but now, I'm official.  :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4238698924819623256-5861273892665485809?l=didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com/feeds/5861273892665485809/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4238698924819623256&amp;postID=5861273892665485809' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4238698924819623256/posts/default/5861273892665485809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4238698924819623256/posts/default/5861273892665485809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://didntijustcleanthatup.blogspot.com/2008/11/post-for-sake-of-posting.html' title='A Post for the Sake of Posting'/><author><name>Beth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16485890633313611574</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2RT-xD6sjiM/SSD4x-4AjAI/AAAAAAAAAAM/m-C5XC5QDuE/S220/IMG_5699.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
