<?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-7380464276250451888</id><updated>2011-11-27T18:57:48.566-05:00</updated><category term='childhood'/><category term='Me'/><category term='moving'/><category term='weather'/><category term='shopping'/><category term='Georgia'/><category term='marriage'/><category term='My Husband Rocks'/><category term='philosophy'/><category term='photos'/><category term='Embroidery'/><category term='Crochet'/><category term='Flowers'/><category term='birthdays'/><category term='memories'/><category term='Crafts'/><category term='swapping'/><category term='anniversary'/><category term='food'/><category term='spring'/><category term='family'/><category term='MSH'/><category term='drinks'/><category term='Recipes'/><category term='Grandmother'/><category term='cleaning'/><category term='kids'/><category term='Sewing'/><category term='friends'/><title type='text'>Purse Full of Curlers</title><subtitle type='html'>The musings and ramblings of me.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>56</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-2003850542519672411</id><published>2010-08-05T12:31:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-05T12:34:46.051-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A comeback?</title><content type='html'>It seems I can post from my blackberry. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After such a long absence, I may start blogging again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much has happened. MSH and I have become parents to our beautiful Savannah Marie. He has a new job, and we're currently on vacation!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll try to post again soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-2003850542519672411?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/2003850542519672411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=2003850542519672411' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/2003850542519672411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/2003850542519672411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2010/08/comeback.html' title='A comeback?'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-16056485423168676</id><published>2009-03-10T08:50:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-10T17:14:48.455-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='memories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grandmother'/><title type='text'>Grandmother</title><content type='html'>In memory of my grandmother, Vyrtes, November 30, 1920 to March 8, 2009.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my earliest memories is of running around Grandmother's house wiggling my fingers with long shoots of aloe taped to the tips. I was curious as to what was on top of the stove, and I put my hand on a hot eye. I don't remember what I was after or even what it felt like. All I remember is that Grandmother took care of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember sitting at her green Formica kitchen table in the house on South Capitol Parkway, eating fresh cherry tomatoes so sweet I couldn't get enough. She warned me that biting into them the way I was might lead to disastrous results. I didn't listen and wound up with juice and seeds dribbling down my chin and all over my shirt and the table. She just laughed, as she did so well, and cleaned me up while so I could snack on more of those wonderful tomatoes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grandmother had high standards. She expected you to be honest, do your best, and act right. She was such a lovely woman, with silky blond curls, beautiful blue eyes, porcelain skin and an infectious smile. She was full of love and trust and devotion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was Sister to eleven, Mother to six, Grandmother to twelve, Great-Grandmother to eleven, even Great-Great Grandmother to one, plus more by marriage or circumstance, Grandmother loved her family. You could see her face light up and a big smile appear the moment we bounded up the steps or opened her door. I believe some of her favorite times were at the family reunions in Highland Home where she could be surrounded by the family she loved so well. She always thanked us for visiting and shared hugs and kisses and sweet treats or little tokens to show her appreciation for coming to help her or just to sit and talk with her. Even after her words left her, during those last few months, she would glow at the sight of Daddy. I was able to visit her several weeks ago, and hold her delicate hand while she stared at him lovingly. She was still wearing one of the silvery rings that we had used to decorate poems at my wedding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember her laughter. Not the jokes or stories, but laughter and her smile. I remember kisses and hugs and "I love you"s. If I listen closely, I can almost hear her voice telling me of the old ways, how to treat any ailment, how the world was different when she was a little girl, how they made almost everything from scratch. I remember her telling me with pride what a lady her mother was. I remember her devotion to Granddaddy. I remember her trusting nature and loving spirit. Mostly, I remember her. One day, I hope to proudly tell my children and grandchildren what a lady my grandmother was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Memories in the Heart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feel no guilt in laughter, she knows how much you care&lt;br /&gt;Feel no sorrow in a smile that she’s not here to share&lt;br /&gt;You cannot grieve forever, she would not want you to&lt;br /&gt;She’d hope that you can carry on, the way you always do&lt;br /&gt;So talk about the good times and the ways you showed you cared&lt;br /&gt;The days you spent together, all the happiness you shared&lt;br /&gt;Let memories surround you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A word someone may say&lt;br /&gt;Will suddenly recapture a time, an hour, a day&lt;br /&gt;That brings her back as clearly as though she were still here&lt;br /&gt;And fills you with the feelings that she is always near&lt;br /&gt;For if you keep these moments, you will never be apart&lt;br /&gt;And she will live forever locked safe within your heart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANON&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-16056485423168676?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/16056485423168676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=16056485423168676' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/16056485423168676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/16056485423168676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2009/03/grandmother.html' title='Grandmother'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-1736481975018089703</id><published>2009-02-22T22:12:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T22:22:54.467-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Done!</title><content type='html'>The mantra of this weekend has been "Done!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Done!--Federal, Georgia, and Virginia tax returns.  Yes, I do our taxes myself, and no, I won't do yours unless I really really like you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Done!--painting the trim and touching up the walls in our now blue guest bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Done!--caulking around the tub, sink, and window in the blue bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Done!--planning dinner menu for my cousin's visit on Wednesday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Done!--a blog post before the end of the weekend (barely).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet, my to do list seems so long still.  Please let me know if you're interested in volunteering.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-1736481975018089703?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/1736481975018089703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=1736481975018089703' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/1736481975018089703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/1736481975018089703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2009/02/done.html' title='Done!'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-8681468257807066198</id><published>2009-02-19T19:41:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-21T21:35:23.496-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's been WAY too long</title><content type='html'>OK, so I know that I haven't posted anything in like over 6 months, but I'm back. I promise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've moved into our first house; I've had a temp job and gotten a real job; we've adopted a dog; and I've been able to see my family more times in the last 6 months than in all of the last 4 years combined. I've also started a quilt, started making napkins and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;place mats&lt;/span&gt; for my mother, and started an exercise routine, none of which I have completed. It's been wonderful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't been blogging because I've been busy and lazy. We're finally getting settled into a routine, and I even have photos of 2 new recipes, our house, and the dog to share with you. But first I have to get the photos off my laptop. My Sweet Husband has taken my laptop out of town with him, so I won't be able to get those posts done until he gets back Saturday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, lets just ignore the fact that I've taken a 6 month hiatus and get back to what's really important--food, crafts, family, and memories, with a few opinions thrown in for good measure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope I haven't lost my 4 readers during my period of neglect. I'll be before the weekend ends with another post. Until then, my dears, good night. I feel better already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Laura&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-8681468257807066198?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/8681468257807066198/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=8681468257807066198' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/8681468257807066198'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/8681468257807066198'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2009/02/its-been-way-too-long.html' title='It&apos;s been WAY too long'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-5721173928271896334</id><published>2008-08-01T14:16:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-01T15:14:32.699-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Husband Rocks'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='MSH'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='marriage'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>My Husband Rocks! Friday 8/1/2008</title><content type='html'>At the wedding shower my aunts Ola and Dot hostessed for me, all the attendees wrote advice on little pieces of paper for me.  My aunts collected them and put them in a little book with each person's photograph from the shower next to their advice.  I love this little book of wisdom from my family and friends, and I re-read it often.  Doing this post each Friday reminds me of the advice my mother wrote, "Tell only the good, and forget the rest.  No one needs to hear the bad."  Or something similar, but that was the gist of the message.  I don't have a perfect marriage or a perfect husband, but writing this post each week (even though I've only written one twice), helps me focus on the good things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week, I told you all that he cleans, but I didn't tell you that he cooks, too.  And not just grilling, he loves to make pasta dishes, homemade pizzas, different kinds of garlic bread, and soups, just to name a few.  He's a whiz with grilling and barbecue, too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the last few weeks, he's been cooking a lot while I apply for jobs or take a nap or get a pedicure, and it's been great.  He made a blackened chicken pasta with sun-dried tomato garlic bread that he saw Guy Fieri make on the Food Network, a seafood chicken alfredo that he dreamed up and a sour-cream/chive/garlic bread.  He's discovered a love for basil, and has been mixing it into our salads--yum!  Most of what he makes is just flying by the seat of his pants, tossing whatever he finds in the cupboard, fridge, or freezer together, and cooking it all up.  It usually turns out to be delicious!  He's not one for measuring or precision, but his kind of cooking is nice and fun for him and my tummy.  It's nice to know that if I ever break both my arms, he can keep us fed without relying on Domino's, Taco Bell, McDonalds, and the &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B_0yQ6tulc4&amp;amp;feature=related"&gt;Big Chicken&lt;/a&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, my husband rocks for many reasons, one of which is that he cooks!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-5721173928271896334?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/5721173928271896334/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=5721173928271896334' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/5721173928271896334'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/5721173928271896334'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/08/my-husband-rocks-friday-812008.html' title='My Husband Rocks! Friday 8/1/2008'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-5940600242928480222</id><published>2008-07-29T08:55:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-29T10:59:43.699-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='birthdays'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Happy Birthday, Betsy!</title><content type='html'>My precious, precocious first niece, my baby, is turning 6 today.  I can't believe how fast she's grown.  She was born 2 days after I got married, while I was on my honeymoon, so our meeting was delayed a little.  From the moment I saw her, I was completely in love.  She's a beautiful young girl, and smart and funny.  She loves being the center of attention and being a big sister.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SI8UyK1EoKI/AAAAAAAAAOI/Xett5C78rM8/s1600-h/P1010025.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228420544533405858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SI8UyK1EoKI/AAAAAAAAAOI/Xett5C78rM8/s400/P1010025.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until she was about 2, she was scared of MSH.  He's so tall and has a deep voice and picks on her.  Then, something changed and she decided that she loves MSH and loves for him to "get her".  He is her jungle gym and a constant source of fun and amusement for her.  She always asks to talk to him on the phone when I call.  Daddy told me the other day that she loves to talk so much that when she runs out of true stories, she starts making them up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SI8UyZCqP9I/AAAAAAAAAOQ/GVqMz4wBndo/s1600-h/P1010021.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228420548348493778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SI8UyZCqP9I/AAAAAAAAAOQ/GVqMz4wBndo/s400/P1010021.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;She's such a sweet girl, too.  Like I did with my aunts, she always wants to see what's in my purse, to have her face made up with my make up, and to use my lotion.  Of course, I always let her, just like my aunts always did.  This past Christmas, I took her Christmas shopping to buy gifts for her grandparents, sister, and parents.  She picked out gifts with enthusiasm and real consideration for what each person would like.  She picked out a French Soap for my mother, which I explained was soap from France.  She later told everyone that she bought my mom "Soap of Ants".  She even made sure to get something for her cousin Richard, even though he wasn't on our list.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SI8U0j4oNFI/AAAAAAAAAOY/VYnemoFwUlo/s1600-h/bkrbonnet.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228420585618945106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SI8U0j4oNFI/AAAAAAAAAOY/VYnemoFwUlo/s400/bkrbonnet.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Less than six too short years ago, she was my belly-baby in a bonnet.  She still has the same big blue eyes, but she's lost the baby rolls.  Now, she's a tall, slender beautiful girl, full of creativity and spunk.  I can't wait to tell her that we're moving to Georgia and that we'll be able to see her much more often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Happy Birthday, Betsy.  We love you.  From Uncle MSH and Aunt Me.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-5940600242928480222?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/5940600242928480222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=5940600242928480222' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/5940600242928480222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/5940600242928480222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/07/happy-birthday-betsy.html' title='Happy Birthday, Betsy!'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SI8UyK1EoKI/AAAAAAAAAOI/Xett5C78rM8/s72-c/P1010025.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-5410551438245301427</id><published>2008-07-28T15:11:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-28T16:16:44.897-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='anniversary'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='MSH'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='marriage'/><title type='text'>The imperfect wife</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I'm terribly, terribly ashamed of myself and my husband. If you've read any of my blog or if you know me in person, you know I love my husband, and I know I love my husband, and I know my husband loves me. But yesterday, yesterday, I'll never live down yesterday. You see, I forgot and he forgot that yesterday was our sixth anniversary. I feel lower than low, lower than I've ever felt, terrible really because it never even dawned on me. I talked about it 2 weeks ago, then we spent 5 days in Georgia, looking at houses, and we forgot. I'm a week off, I keep thinking that it's last week, but that's no excuse. I'm just lame.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yesterday afternoon, we're sitting at Firestone, waiting for an oil change, when MSH's dad emails him. MSH checks his blackberry and sees that his sweet father has wished us a happy anniversary. At which point he informs me that it is our anniversary, and I have to start laughing to cover the fact that I'm crying. I mean, crying in the greeting card aisle at Wal-Mart is one thing, but crying at Firestone without a huge repair bill looking you in the face is completely unacceptable. I can't believe it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, to celebrate, we had lunch from McDonald's. Later I made a peach cobbler, because peaches are MSH's favorite and I'm trying to use up all the food in the house before we move. And for our big anniversary dinner--frozen lasagna, well it was frozen when we bought it, I did heat it up before we ate it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think my need to explain things like that is my father's influence. He would have responded to that statement with "Why would you eat frozen lasagna? Was your oven broken? Even if it was, you could have let it thaw first. You must have been really hungry." or something similar. This type of thing usually resulted in a big eye-roll from me or my brothers, followed by a &lt;em&gt;"Da-addy" &lt;/em&gt;and further unnecessary explanation, so in order to preempt this, we learned to fully explain every detail before he had a chance to get us. Looking back, I think it was funny, but at the time, I found it exasperating. But I've always been completely in love with my Daddy, exasperation and all.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;OK, I admit, that was a little bit rambling and tangential, but that's just who I am.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SI4izXSVHbI/AAAAAAAAAOA/b86tUJF3Zfk/s1600-h/msh+1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228154483243294130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SI4izXSVHbI/AAAAAAAAAOA/b86tUJF3Zfk/s400/msh+1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This photo was taken on our honeymoon.  I apologize for the quality, it's a scan of a low-quality copy of a snapshot from a roll of film that was x-rayed 17 times.  But, you get the idea.  It's one of my favorite pictures of him.  What a handsome man I have.  When my Granny met him, her first observation was, "Well, he's a tall somebody, ain't he?"  Yes, Granny, he is a tall somebody.  And six years into this life together, I'm glad to have this "tall somebody", everyday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today, I don't feel quite so bad, mostly because I'm an indignant person, and MSH keeps trying to make me feel guilty by pointing out that he remembered first. To which I respond that being reminded by your father is not the same as remembering. So, because he's trying to make me feel guilty, I actually don't feel as bad because I'm all about being a rebel, sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, Happy Anniversary, MSH! I may have forgotten on the date, but I've never forgotten how much I love you. I am thankful for every day of the last six years and look forward to at least 60 more. And, I forgive you for forgetting our anniversary, and from this point forward, I'm going to chalk it up to living in the moment and not dwelling on the past because that makes me feel better about myself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-5410551438245301427?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/5410551438245301427/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=5410551438245301427' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/5410551438245301427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/5410551438245301427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/07/imperfect-wife.html' title='The imperfect wife'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SI4izXSVHbI/AAAAAAAAAOA/b86tUJF3Zfk/s72-c/msh+1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-4037435019221985603</id><published>2008-07-25T15:36:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-25T16:06:31.127-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Husband Rocks'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cleaning'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='MSH'/><title type='text'>My Husband Rocks! Friday</title><content type='html'>I know I missed it last week, but we were up to our eyeballs in house-hunting. We did find one, but it's not quite a done deal yet, so I'll wait until it is to share. Plus, today is about MSH and another reason why he rocks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The photos in this post have nothing to do with the post other than MSH is in them, and I love the way he interacts with our nephew, Richard, in these pictures.  MSH had fallen asleep on the couch at my brother's house, and Richard, upon hearing him snore, had to go and investigate.  So, he crawled into MSH's lap, waking him in the process, and they hung out for a little while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SIotkbtUJ7I/AAAAAAAAANw/dnzEzZIeYTU/s1600-h/DSC00044.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227040421453244338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SIotkbtUJ7I/AAAAAAAAANw/dnzEzZIeYTU/s400/DSC00044.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SIotkuRTZ_I/AAAAAAAAAN4/-_CG2Q4UovQ/s1600-h/DSC00045.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227040426436028402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SIotkuRTZ_I/AAAAAAAAAN4/-_CG2Q4UovQ/s400/DSC00045.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;On to why MSH rocks!  He really helps me with so much.  We both work, full time, so it only make sense that we divide the housework, too.  It's not exactly always 50/50, but it's close, and there are days when he does more than I.  I really started thinking about this earlier this week.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I mentioned something about him putting groceries away to one of my co-workers, and her response was, "You let him put the groceries away?"  My response was, "Of course, he's perfectly capable of putting items into the refrigerator."  This wasn't the first time we'd had an exchange like this.  Then it sort of hit me, there are all these women out there who don't get help around the house, either because their husband's just don't do it or because they don't trust their husbands to do a good job.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;MSH is an intelligent person, and he cares about our home being clean.  Is it spotless all the time?  Of course not, but we don't live in filth, and I don't spend all my spare time cleaning.  Is everything done exactly the way I want it?  No, but it's not all done the way he wants it either.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I mentioned to my mom a while back that I wanted to stop using the disposable Clorox wipes to clean the counters, so I had to get MSH to start using a dishrag on the nights that he cleans the kitchen.  She told me that if I had a husband who would wipe down the counters, I should let him use what ever he wants.  It just reminded me how lucky I am. (We did stop using the wipes, though, and he didn't mind at all.)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I recently started a new cleaning schedule where I do a little each day, Monday through Friday, and have nothing left but the dishes on the weekends.  He's jumped on the bandwagon and never looked back.  I've always appreciated how much he does at home and even brag on him every chance I get.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;My husband rocks for many reasons, one of which is that he cleans!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-4037435019221985603?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/4037435019221985603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=4037435019221985603' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/4037435019221985603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/4037435019221985603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/07/my-husband-rocks-friday_25.html' title='My Husband Rocks! Friday'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SIotkbtUJ7I/AAAAAAAAANw/dnzEzZIeYTU/s72-c/DSC00044.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-3524815767359816455</id><published>2008-07-17T16:01:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-17T16:22:00.198-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='moving'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Georgia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='MSH'/><title type='text'>And finally, we have lift off!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;After spending the last 2 months wondering if MSH would be offered and accept the job in Georgia, then waiting for the Army to give us our Permanent Change of Station orders, then waiting for our travel orders to be approved, we're finally heading to Georgia tonight for our house-hunting trip. I know y'all just heard about the move last week, but this has been stressing me out since March!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;MSH had to take off work today to meet with the folks who handle the moving, so I've left the packing for this trip up to him since we didn't actually find out that we're leaving tonight until this morning. Here's hoping I don't spend the next 5 days in platform heels and hot pants (not that I acually own any hot pants, but you never know)! See y'all next week!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here's a little something to keep you smiling&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SH-pYYnG-VI/AAAAAAAAANo/FGZjKjwC02I/s1600-h/P1010020.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224080329161505106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SH-pYYnG-VI/AAAAAAAAANo/FGZjKjwC02I/s400/P1010020.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Aren't BK &amp;amp; Ivey growing up pretty?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;PS Have you noticed my love of the parenthetical expression(I think it stems from my love of sarcasm) and my fondess of the word "so". I am so going to have to work on that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-3524815767359816455?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/3524815767359816455/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=3524815767359816455' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/3524815767359816455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/3524815767359816455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/07/and-finally-we-have-lift-off.html' title='And finally, we have lift off!'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SH-pYYnG-VI/AAAAAAAAANo/FGZjKjwC02I/s72-c/P1010020.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-8672410547092202184</id><published>2008-07-11T13:11:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-11T13:28:27.527-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='moving'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Georgia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Husband Rocks'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='MSH'/><title type='text'>My Husband Rocks! Friday</title><content type='html'>I've joined the My Husband Rocks! Friday over at Katie Lin's blog &lt;a href="http://honestandlasting.blogspot.com/"&gt;The Great Adventure&lt;/a&gt;. So here's the first installment and a big announcement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband rocks because he got a new job in Marietta, GA. This means that we're moving back to the real south August 15th! I'm so excited. This is the something I promised to tell you about a few weeks ago when I told that I was trying to keep MSH from climbing the walls and chewing his fingers to nubs. It's another government job, and the government moves so slowly. The main reason for my lack of posts lately is that the anxiety about this has been drinking all of my creative juices. That, and this is the only thing I wanted to write about, but couldn't lest some one in my office found out before it was official. I know he just took a new job a couple of months ago, and it really pained him to have to tell them that he's leaving so soon, but this is what we've been working for since we moved away in 2004.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we will now be about 2 hours from our families. We will be able to buy a house with a yard maybe even one with a pool or on a lake. We will be able to send our future child(ren) to daycare if necessary for a reasonable amount of money. We may even be able to afford for me to stay home with our future child(ren) in a few years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're hoping to take a house-hunting trip next weekend, and that it all goes well because we will have less than 30 days to find, buy, and close on a house. So my excitement is tinged with a lot of apprehension and stress, but balanced with so much happiness and relief. Now, I just have to tell my boss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, my husband rocks for many reasons, one of which is that he's bringing me home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-8672410547092202184?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/8672410547092202184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=8672410547092202184' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/8672410547092202184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/8672410547092202184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/07/my-husband-rocks-friday.html' title='My Husband Rocks! Friday'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-8361629037720164459</id><published>2008-06-11T08:29:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-12T12:04:02.576-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='birthdays'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='MSH'/><title type='text'>Happy Birthday, MSH</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;The previously promised photos are up!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the blog I intended for today, but the tomato thing was on my mind. But this one will be on top, so hopefully, it will get all the attention it deserves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is My Sweet Husband's birthday! I love this guy more than I can tell you. He's kind and smart and funny. He has strong moral convictions and a big heart, oh, and he's cute too. Even when he does this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SE_IfCzzZyI/AAAAAAAAANI/e6sGdxnvv-0/s1600-h/DSC01261.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210603729546602274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SE_IfCzzZyI/AAAAAAAAANI/e6sGdxnvv-0/s400/DSC01261.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stepping in front of my camera while I'm trying to take a photo of a blooming cherry tree, saying, "Oh, what, were you trying to take a picture of something?". &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Butthead&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I love him because even though he does these things, they're funny and he's adorable. He's always been adorable. Just look at this and tell me I'm wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SFFIWCU73AI/AAAAAAAAANQ/QMmG4OWkdKM/s1600-h/DSC01492.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211025787263376386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SFFIWCU73AI/AAAAAAAAANQ/QMmG4OWkdKM/s400/DSC01492.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This picture makes me want to have 15 babies that look just like this. I can't look at it very often because the neighbor upstairs calls and complains that the ticking of my biological clock is keeping her awake and scaring her cat every time I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and don't tell him, but I'm giving him a party as his gift this year. I've taken all the decorations and plates and cups and balloons, etc. and put them all in a big box that I've wrapped with a note inside telling him about the party. I'll give it to him tonight at dinner. I've had such a hard time keeping this a secret. It's not that I'm afraid that some one else will tell him; it's just that I get so excited that I want to tell him so that I can see his reaction. Hopefully we'll be able to dance at the party because he's always had killer moves. See.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SFFIoEwxBuI/AAAAAAAAANY/xcttVQfXCyA/s1600-h/DSC01490.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211026097154623202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SFFIoEwxBuI/AAAAAAAAANY/xcttVQfXCyA/s400/DSC01490.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I told you he's cute. And this picture makes me want to have 4o babies, so I never look at it. I wrote this whole post with my eyes closed so I wouldn't have to look at it. Because if I look at it, the seismic activity caused by the ticking would register on the Richter scale.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;MSH&lt;/span&gt;. Happy Birthday!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From Me&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-8361629037720164459?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/8361629037720164459/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=8361629037720164459' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/8361629037720164459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/8361629037720164459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/06/happy-birthday-msh.html' title='Happy Birthday, MSH'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SE_IfCzzZyI/AAAAAAAAANI/e6sGdxnvv-0/s72-c/DSC01261.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-7859462298640943977</id><published>2008-06-11T08:07:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-11T08:29:50.952-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Scary Foods</title><content type='html'>So, as you may have guessed from this blog, I love food.  Especially, homemade, fresh foods.  But, I just have to ask, what is going on with all the contaminations of fresh vegetables?  Of course, I'm talking about the tomato scare that's going on right now and the spinach fiasco from last year.   It breaks my heart, especially the tomatoes, my favorite of all the veggies--although technically it's a fruit.  If it smells like a vegetable, tastes like a vegetable, and is grown from a plant, it's a vegetable in my book. But, I digress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vegetables are supposed to be a symbol of all that is healthy eating, a beacon of hope in the grocery store filled with sugary this and fat-laced that.   In the last few years, we've seen huge beef recalls, E. coli infested spinach, and now tomatoes with salmonella.  When will it end?  Unfortunately, we don't have a yard to grow our own food in, and even if we did, my thumb is black as midnight--My Sweet Husband does all the plant-tending around here.  Luckily, my favorite indulgence, the cherry tomatoes, have been spared, but how is a girl supposed to make a decent salad without tomatoes, and how is MSH supposed to enjoy his shrimp burritos without pico?  The tomatoes growing on our balcony have started fruiting (is that the word?), but the tomatoes are still tiny and green and probably unfit for human consumption.  So until this is all sorted out, I'm going to be encouraging our cherry tomatoes to act like big tomatoes and hoping that our tomato plants are bountiful and quick.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-7859462298640943977?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/7859462298640943977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=7859462298640943977' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/7859462298640943977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/7859462298640943977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/06/scary-foods.html' title='Scary Foods'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-6296727171348616300</id><published>2008-06-03T19:05:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-03T19:19:54.503-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='drinks'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Recipes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Recipe Review: Salsa Lime Chicken</title><content type='html'>OK, I know my posting schedule has grown a bit wonky lately, but I've been trying to keep My Sweet Husband from climbing the walls and chewing his fingernails to nubs--I'll tell you all about &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; some day soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At any rate, I do have a recipe for you--with photos--of a dish I made a week or so ago. It's based on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Applebee's&lt;/span&gt; Fiesta Lime Chicken, formerly known as Tequila Lime Chicken. I never found out why they changed the name, and I worked for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Applebee's&lt;/span&gt; at the time of the change. But, I was just a waitress and bartender; they didn't consult me about marketing decisions very often. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;MSH&lt;/span&gt; calls it "That Cheesy Chicken" which totally confuses me because the overwhelming flavor in this dish is not cheese, it's salsa, and I make a couple of other cheesy chicken dishes that have much more cheese than this one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's what you'll need for 2 servings, but it's easy to increase for more:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 chicken breast - or whatever cut you prefer&lt;br /&gt;1 lime, cut in half and reserve 2 slices&lt;br /&gt;1/2 cup sour cream or ranch dressing&lt;br /&gt;1/2 cup salsa&lt;br /&gt;1/3 cup shredded cheese, I usually use cheddar, but I had this Mexican Melting Cheese on hand&lt;br /&gt;Spanish, Mexican, or Yellow rice&lt;br /&gt;1 can corn, drained (I don't use this because &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;MSH&lt;/span&gt; can't eat corn)&lt;br /&gt;Tortilla strips or crushed tortilla chips (optional)--We had chips &amp;amp; salsa as an appetizer that day, so I didn't bother with this, but I usually do for an additional texture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's what you do with it all:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Start cooking the rice according to the instructions on the package.&lt;br /&gt;2. Squeeze limes over chicken breasts. It helps if you poke holes in the chicken to increase the absorption of the lime juice. Set aside for at least 30 minutes. If you want it really limey, you can marinate this overnight.&lt;br /&gt;3. Mix salsa and sour cream or ranch dressing.&lt;br /&gt;4. Brown chicken in a skillet. You don't have to cook them all the way because we're going to stick them in the oven soon.&lt;br /&gt;5. Transfer chicken to an oven-safe dish. Top with reserved lime slices.&lt;br /&gt;6. Cover chicken with salsa mixture.&lt;br /&gt;7. Bake at about 350 for 20 minutes or until chicken is done and no longer pink in the center.&lt;br /&gt;8. Top with cheese and return to oven for about 5 minutes, or until cheese is melted.&lt;br /&gt;9. If you're using corn, mix it with the rice and let it heat up while the cheese melts.&lt;br /&gt;10. Serve chicken beside or over rice. If your rice is on the side, that's the perfect excuse to spoon the sauce over it. Top chicken and rice with tortilla strips.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's what it looks like when I make it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SEXPtyo5SBI/AAAAAAAAANA/6d9IoL28X6g/s1600-h/Salsa_Lime_Chicken%5B1%5D.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5207796929718208530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SEXPtyo5SBI/AAAAAAAAANA/6d9IoL28X6g/s400/Salsa_Lime_Chicken%5B1%5D.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's what I made while I waited for the chicken to bake, because "I like &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;pina&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;coladas&lt;/span&gt;" and it was about 150 degrees in my kitchen.  I swear the kitchen is the hottest room in our home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SEREstZR5PI/AAAAAAAAAMg/IFPO7dtHyhc/s1600-h/DSC01474.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5207362604037694706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SEREstZR5PI/AAAAAAAAAMg/IFPO7dtHyhc/s400/DSC01474.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Make this, eat it, and enjoy, but be prepared for your family or significant other or cats or your own tummy to ask you to make That Cheesy Chicken at least once a week!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;By request from my sweet SIL Amanda, I will be posting a review for a dish I made Friday evening next.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-6296727171348616300?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/6296727171348616300/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=6296727171348616300' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/6296727171348616300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/6296727171348616300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/06/recipe-review-salsa-lime-chicken.html' title='Recipe Review: Salsa Lime Chicken'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SEXPtyo5SBI/AAAAAAAAANA/6d9IoL28X6g/s72-c/Salsa_Lime_Chicken%5B1%5D.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-605896677686066716</id><published>2008-05-28T11:56:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-28T12:39:17.022-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='swapping'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><title type='text'>Swap-bot teaser</title><content type='html'>So here's a clue about the item I'm making for the Crafty swap:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SD2BrJ3VxHI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/J3VZ0M5Di_E/s1600-h/DSC01487b.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5205459322692551794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SD2BrJ3VxHI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/J3VZ0M5Di_E/s400/DSC01487b.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;That's all until my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;swappee&lt;/span&gt; receives it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Also, I've gotten 9 of the 10 blog links.  Once I get them all, I'll post them here because I'm all about broadening your horizons.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-605896677686066716?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/605896677686066716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=605896677686066716' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/605896677686066716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/605896677686066716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/05/swap-bot-teaser.html' title='Swap-bot teaser'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SD2BrJ3VxHI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/J3VZ0M5Di_E/s72-c/DSC01487b.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-7665280367268418257</id><published>2008-05-27T15:43:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-27T16:24:34.350-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='swapping'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><title type='text'>Swap-Bot</title><content type='html'>I joined &lt;a href="http://www.swap-bot.com/"&gt;swap-bot.com&lt;/a&gt; and signed up for 3 swaps initially.  I can already see how this can get addictive.  I got the idea from visiting &lt;a href="http://suzyqsparkle.blogspot.com/"&gt;Suzy's blog&lt;/a&gt; and seeing her apron swap results.  So, I searched apron swap on Google and found swap-bot.  Now, I didn't find any currently open apron swap, and I still haven't gotten my sewing machines into working order, so I didn't sign up for anything too heavy.  Plus, a lot of the swaps shun newbies, I guess because of the high flaking percentage of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;un&lt;/span&gt;-rated users, people looking for free stuff without ever returning the favor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I signed up for the "Send some Blog Love" swap--easy enough, I just emailed 10 people my blog links and will receive 10 blog links to visit.  I've received 6 so far, and I can foresee hours spent pouring over their archives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I joined the "Craft lovers begin your crafting" swap and already have an idea for my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;swapee&lt;/span&gt; and have been contacted by my swapper.  This was a no-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;brainer&lt;/span&gt; for me.  I'm always making things with no purpose for it and no one in particular to give it to just because I like to make things.  With a real recipient in mind, this will be more fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, I enlisted in the "Ratings Booster #2" swap because it was the first one I saw for newbies.  We haven't received our partners yet, so I haven't decided what to get/make for this one, but I'm supposed to mail 3 things to 2 people and receive 3 things from 2 other people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The whole point, I think, is to share with people that you otherwise wouldn't meet, and to try to send them things they would like.  I'll keep you updated on how things go.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-7665280367268418257?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/7665280367268418257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=7665280367268418257' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/7665280367268418257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/7665280367268418257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/05/swap-bot.html' title='Swap-Bot'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-6466643732698738075</id><published>2008-05-26T14:02:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-27T15:40:19.487-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='philosophy'/><title type='text'>Ich Habe Genug</title><content type='html'>"&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ich_habe_genug"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ich&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Habe&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Genug&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;", the title of a cantata by Bach, it's a German phrase meaning, "I have enough". Although the cantata is about a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;disdain&lt;/span&gt; for worldly life and a yearning for death to expedite the reward of heaven, I've been thinking about all the earthly connotations since I read about it on a blog a few weeks ago. I've come to realize that I need to apply the philosophy of&lt;br /&gt;"I Have Enough" to my life more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so caught up in the things I want, the things I hope for, the things I pray for, that I often forget to see the things I have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to move back closer to our family, so usually I don't notice all the cool things that we can do because we live so close to DC.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to move into a larger home, so often I don't realize how easy it is to clean this one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pray that we have children soon, but I need to cherish this time I have with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;MSH&lt;/span&gt; all to myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope for a better job, but the one that I have provides a good income and little stress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have this list of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;desirables&lt;/span&gt; on the side of my page, but truly, I have everything I need. The things I don't have just force me to be more inventive in my approach to solving problems.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should always remember, that despite all the things I want I have a loving, kind husband, a wonderful family-including my in-laws, a good job, a nice place to live, expendable income, more food than I need, more clothes than I can wear, beautiful days, a sharp mind, nimble hands, talents, creativity, and potential. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Ich&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;habe&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;genug&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-6466643732698738075?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/6466643732698738075/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=6466643732698738075' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/6466643732698738075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/6466643732698738075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/05/ich-habe-genug.html' title='Ich Habe Genug'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-3867175377348668540</id><published>2008-05-20T16:22:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-20T16:41:10.731-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='MSH'/><title type='text'>I'm Still Alive, I Promise</title><content type='html'>Just wanted to let you all know that I'm still here and alive.  I'm working on a big post with lots of photos, and my laptop is fighting me all the way.  So, hopefully, I'll have it up before 2090.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've also been working on ideas for MSH's birthday next month.  I've never really had a party for him, and our home is too small to host one.  Therefore, I've been trying to come up with ideas on where to have an inexpensive get-together.  I've also been researching cakes and found this &lt;a href="http://www.womansday.com/recipe/flipflops_cake-2141.html"&gt;flip-flop cake&lt;/a&gt; that I can make, but instead of flip-flops, I'm want to make it look like Birkenstock sandals.  If you have any suggestions for candies that will look like the brown suede straps on sandals, please leave me a comment.  I'm a little bit wary of trying to make them out of fondant considering I've never used it before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MSH is settling into his new job, but he's had a run of bad luck lately.  eBay canceled his auction for a DirecTV receiver because DirecTV told them that he was selling proprietary information.  It took him most of the day on Saturday to get that straightened out.  He was sick on Sunday and couldn't help me with laundry and grocery shopping and doing the dishes (okay, so that was my bad luck, too, but he was really suffering).  Then, last night, he dropped his brand-new 15-day old Blackberry less than 3 inches.  Unfortunately, it hit the corner of the table at just the wrong angle and cracked the screen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm getting used to driving the 5 miles between his office and mine with only a couple of unfortunate incidents last week.  It's been raining buckets here the last few weeks.  There've been flood worries because the ground is so soaked, so I'm looking forward to some sunshine and 80 degree weather soon, even if I have to make it myself!  So keep checking back for the big post--it's about a time that MSH surprised me big time, but that's all I'm going to tell you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-3867175377348668540?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/3867175377348668540/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=3867175377348668540' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/3867175377348668540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/3867175377348668540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/05/im-still-alive-i-promise.html' title='I&apos;m Still Alive, I Promise'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-8480659265423136590</id><published>2008-05-16T20:25:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-16T20:38:08.074-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='drinks'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Recipes'/><title type='text'>Recipe Review: Tropical Tornado</title><content type='html'>Summer's approaching; I can feel it.  Despite the recent way too chilly temperatures around here, I know it's coming, and I'm longing for umbrella drinks.  Recently, we stumbled upon a new one on the back of our Captain Morgan's Pineapple Rum bottle.  It's called a Tropical Tornado, and it made me wish I had a hollowed coconut, an umbrella in my drink, and my toes in the sand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the recipe:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 oz Captain Morgan's Parrot Bay Pineapple Rum&lt;br /&gt;1 oz Captain Morgan's Parrot Bay Coconut Rum&lt;br /&gt;Splash of Grenadine&lt;br /&gt;Orange Juice&lt;br /&gt;Ice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fill glass with ice.  Add rums, grenadine, and orange juice.  Stir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's it.  Now, I'm warning you about this drink.  It's what I call a "sneaky drink".  It tastes so good that you don't realize how fast you're drinking it or how much alcohol you're consuming until you try to stand up after your sixth one and your legs don't work.  But, if all you have to do is sit on the beach all day and occasionally flip to keep your color even, then that's OK.  If that's not your situation, then do like I do and keep a close count of what you've drunk.  MSH loves 'em too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**Please drink responsibly, even if you are on the beach with nothing else to do but flip occasionally.**&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-8480659265423136590?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/8480659265423136590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=8480659265423136590' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/8480659265423136590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/8480659265423136590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/05/recipe-review-tropical-tornado.html' title='Recipe Review: Tropical Tornado'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-4608507809717789411</id><published>2008-05-13T11:37:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-13T12:09:27.578-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='MSH'/><title type='text'>Reason # 854 Why I Love MSH</title><content type='html'>He's such a sweet nerd.  I mean that in the best possible way.  I'm a nerd and always have been, but he's grown into his nerdiness.  This quality became quite apparent today when I saw an invitation he sent to some of his friends to celebrate his last day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;Subject: Drinks tomorrow after work?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll buy the first 2 rounds if you'll drink'em...with or without EtOH.&lt;br /&gt;Your choice.&lt;br /&gt;Thursday(tomorrow) 4:30 till 6&lt;br /&gt;RSVP ASAP so I can call in reservations&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EtOH = Ethyl Alcohol or booze.  How adorable is that?  Of course, the email went to a bunch of scientists, so it was appropriate.  Just seeing that brought a smile to my face.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-4608507809717789411?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/4608507809717789411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=4608507809717789411' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/4608507809717789411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/4608507809717789411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/05/reason-854-why-i-love-msh.html' title='Reason # 854 Why I Love MSH'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-4104033666229964182</id><published>2008-05-09T15:24:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-09T15:54:36.976-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Recipe Review: Grilled Polenta with Shrimp &amp; Escarole</title><content type='html'>Grilled Po-What? with Shrimp and Esca-Who? This was an early experiment using eatingwell.com. I had never tasted Polenta or even heard of Escarole, but it looked interesting so I decided to try &lt;a href="http://www.eatingwell.com/recipes/polenta_with_shrimp.html"&gt;Grilled Polenta with Shrimp &amp;amp; Escarole&lt;/a&gt;. I figured that polenta would be kind of like grits, and I love shrimp and grits, but I was a little wary of the escarole. Well, my wariness would never really be put to rest. My grocery store doesn't carry escarole, so I substituted collard greens. Otherwise, I followed this recipe to a tee, except I halved it since it's just MSH &amp;amp; me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, my daring cooking style paid off on this one. The dish is fabulous. The only thing I'd recommend is salting the polenta. Also, the polenta is a little difficult to grill, so I've also made it by browning the polenta in a skillet. I feel that it would be easier if I'd used the George Forman Grill to grill it. I've made it with and without the olives, and it's superb either way. Now, we always have frozen shrimp and canned diced tomatoes and garlic (even if it is sprouting), so the only things I had to get especially for the dish were the collards and polenta. The earthy greens and sweet shrimp, tart tomatoes and olives with the creamy, slightly charred polenta was perfect, especially for seafood loving southerners like us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you can get escarole and try this recipe, let me know what you think of it.  Otherwise, the recipe says that you can use spinach and I say that you can use collard greens.  This dish was pretty easy and quick and required very little preparation.  If you like shrimp and southern food, this is a great recipe for you, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I think that's all the blogging I'll be doing today.  I feel better now that I've typed up the things I've been longing to share with you all since last weekend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-4104033666229964182?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/4104033666229964182/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=4104033666229964182' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/4104033666229964182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/4104033666229964182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/05/recipe-review-grilled-polenta-with.html' title='Recipe Review: Grilled Polenta with Shrimp &amp; Escarole'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-1059081362406620532</id><published>2008-05-09T14:58:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-09T15:15:31.179-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='birthdays'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Happy (Belated) Birthdays, Chip &amp; Amanda!</title><content type='html'>During the week of sickness, I failed to recognize two very important events.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the 6th, my brother, the middle child, turned 29. Chip is hilarious, and like most middle children, loves being the center of attention. Here he is below with our cousin Matt at our cousin Will's wedding this past February. Chip is the one making the monkey-face. I searched all over my hard drives and couldn't find a single photo of him making a nice face. So, here he is, in his natural state. Although he tormented me while we were growing up, we've become great friends, and I love him. Happy Birthday, Chip, from your favorite sister.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SCSgIs7V4dI/AAAAAAAAALY/tjsN7dG_hIc/s1600-h/Chip+%26+Matt.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198455941251850706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SCSgIs7V4dI/AAAAAAAAALY/tjsN7dG_hIc/s400/Chip+%26+Matt.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Mandajo, Richard's wonderful mommy. Her birthday was on the third. She's married to my baby brother. She's the one of the sweetest women in the world and always has such a positive attitude. People tell me that the reason that Richard is such a happy baby is because he has such a happy mommy. Mandajo just started a new job with my mother-in-law, and it seems to be going great for her. This is a great career move for her and such a wonderful opportunity. Congratulations and Happy Birthday. Love you, bunches!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SCSgKM7V4eI/AAAAAAAAALg/C6Cfes0q_Hc/s1600-h/xmas+133.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198455967021654498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SCSgKM7V4eI/AAAAAAAAALg/C6Cfes0q_Hc/s400/xmas+133.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Happy Birthday you two, have fun celebrating with Mama &amp;amp; Daddy on Sunday. I wish I could be there, and I miss you all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-1059081362406620532?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/1059081362406620532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=1059081362406620532' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/1059081362406620532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/1059081362406620532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/05/happy-belated-birthdays-chip-amanda.html' title='Happy (Belated) Birthdays, Chip &amp; Amanda!'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SCSgIs7V4dI/AAAAAAAAALY/tjsN7dG_hIc/s72-c/Chip+%26+Matt.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-6254474322688260842</id><published>2008-05-09T13:39:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-09T14:53:37.690-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='photos'/><title type='text'>The Hoovers Come to Washington</title><content type='html'>As you know, the good doctor has been here for a couple of weeks, and last weekend, his wife and children drove up to visit.  On Saturday, we agreed to show them the sights and take them to the museums on the Mall in DC.  First of all, it was a gosh darn BEAUTIFUL day.  Warm and sunny with a nice breeze, the only complaint was the pollen count, and the only complainers were the doctor and MSH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We started by getting tickets for the Washington Monument and the Holocaust Museum.  For some reason, the nine-year-old was very excited about the Holocaust Museum.  After getting bumped to the special short line for members and government employees at the museum, we got tickets for 11:30; our Washington Monument tickets were for 12:30.  We went ahead and toured the children's section of the Holocaust Museum and made our plans for the rest of the day.  For some reason, we were all starving at 10:30 in the morning, so we walked down to the Old Post Office and had lunch.  The kids found a photo kiosk where they could pose while shaking hands with George W. Bush, even the good doctor posed for a shot.  They also found a little electronics/souvenir store.  Somehow, their dad got out of there without spending ALL of his money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next we stopped by the Museum of Natural History to see the dinosaurs, then dragged the kids up to the top of the Washington Monument, through the World War II Memorial, and the Lincoln Monument.  Their favorite part of this particular spot wasn't the huge statue of Lincoln or the interesting items posted on the inside of the building, but rather a portion of the top level where it looked like, when they jumped down to the next level only a couple of feet below, that they had actually jumped 20 feet down to the ground below.  We also stumbled upon the newest memorial, the Korean War Memorial with the wall engraved with "Freedom Isn't Free." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, we made our way back to the Holocaust Museum.  On the 3rd floor, which is the second level of the tour, there is a video.  MSH, the good doctor and Mrs. Doctor watched the video, while I tried to keep the children from seeing the more disturbing parts of the exhibit.   Apparently, the video is so disturbing and graphic, the good parents decided not to subject the boys to the rest of what could potentially have been a traumatic visit for the children, so we hightailed it out of there and went back to the safety of the Natural History Museum to see the monkeys and rocks.  After spending about 7 hours downtown, we headed back to the apartment the doctors have rented for the month and changed for dinner at Positano's, one of our favorite restaurants ever.  MSH and TGD had the cioppino, Mrs. TGD had the chicken parmesan, and I had the best veal I've ever tasted.  The chef made a special spaghetti and meatballs for the boys and we all shared appetizers of Eggplant Bruschetta and White Pizza.  After dinner, we walked to the Ben &amp;amp; Jerry's for dessert.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All-in-all it was a wonderful, fun, beautiful, sweet day, but the best part of all was the J-boys.  Here they are posing for me.  See how blue the sky is and how cute those guys are?  Oh, I just wanted to keep them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SCSUps7V4ZI/AAAAAAAAAK4/BZfVafOCmo4/s1600-h/DSC01397.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198443314048000402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SCSUps7V4ZI/AAAAAAAAAK4/BZfVafOCmo4/s400/DSC01397.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This is J1; he's eleven, and he's totally one of the coolest kids ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SCSUqc7V4aI/AAAAAAAAALA/orR1_hW1n7w/s1600-h/DSC01437.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198443326932902306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SCSUqc7V4aI/AAAAAAAAALA/orR1_hW1n7w/s400/DSC01437.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; This is J2; he's 9.  He's so smart and kind.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SCSUq87V4bI/AAAAAAAAALI/Fv6erBS5HMM/s1600-h/DSC01433.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198443335522836914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SCSUq87V4bI/AAAAAAAAALI/Fv6erBS5HMM/s400/DSC01433.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And this is J3; he's 5.  He's absolutely adorable and so sweet.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SCSUrc7V4cI/AAAAAAAAALQ/CWyJIqjY6Y0/s1600-h/DSC01400.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198443344112771522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SCSUrc7V4cI/AAAAAAAAALQ/CWyJIqjY6Y0/s400/DSC01400.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I think that J1 connected more with MSH because MSH is cool and manly, but he was still really sweet to me and included me in all the fun.  J2 &amp;amp; J3 became my attachments on the trip, each holding one of my hands, picking dandelions for me to wear in the button holes on my shirt, and wanting to sit next to me at dinner.  J3 even gave me one of the rocks he collected on the Mall to remember him by.  All 3 had the cutest stories, sweet dispositions, curious minds, and awesome personalities.  They will all grow up to be heart-breakers.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Thank you to TGD &amp;amp; Mrs. TGD and the J-boys for sharing your weekend with us.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-6254474322688260842?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/6254474322688260842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=6254474322688260842' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/6254474322688260842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/6254474322688260842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/05/hoovers-come-to-washington.html' title='The Hoovers Come to Washington'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SCSUps7V4ZI/AAAAAAAAAK4/BZfVafOCmo4/s72-c/DSC01397.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-169336112230530808</id><published>2008-05-09T12:07:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-09T12:26:21.805-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='MSH'/><title type='text'>The Good News</title><content type='html'>So, a few weeks ago, I mentioned at the end of a post that I might have some good news in a few weeks.  Well, I have it.  It's not the great news I was hoping for, but it's the good news that was also a possibility at the time.  We didn't win the lottery, get pregnant, or make plans to move back to Alabama.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I do have good news.  MSH got a new job.  It's basically the same as his old job, just for a different government agency about 5 miles from where we work now.  The difference is a slight increase in pay, greater promotion potential, and a better work environment.  He's really excited, and so am I, but I have to admit that I will miss working with him, knowing that he's just a short walk down the hill, being able to have lunch with him anytime I want.  We'll still be able to commute together, as far as his office, but I'll have to drive the few miles between our offices by myself.  Luckily, I'll be able to take mostly residential roads with a couple of local thoroughfares and won't have to try to battle the beltway on my own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, he starts on Monday; his last day was yesterday. We celebrated by having lunch together, then meeting some of his now former co-workers for dinner and drinks at a seafood restaurant where they sprinkled their hush puppies with *gasp* powdered sugar!  MSH told the waiter that where we come from, some one could be shot for such an offense.  I know that MSH will miss the friends he made and being so close to me, but this is the best opportunity for him.  They've even told him that if he does well, they'll look to move him into the position to run the place in 5 to 8 years.  I'm exceedingly proud of him; he's doing all the right things to put us in the best position to start a family and have a successful future. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this is my big news.  Later today, I plan to have a recipe review and a recap of our visit with the good doctor and his family, plus photos of those oh so cute &amp;amp; sweet J-boys.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-169336112230530808?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/169336112230530808/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=169336112230530808' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/169336112230530808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/169336112230530808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/05/good-news.html' title='The Good News'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-6937262480967073243</id><published>2008-05-09T10:23:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-09T10:32:26.202-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><title type='text'>Oh Blog, I'm sorry I've been gone so long</title><content type='html'>I'm sorry I've been gone so long.  We went out to DC and Bethesda on Saturday with the good doctor and his family.  As soon as we got home that evening, MSH and I fell straight into bed and went to sleep.  I woke up Sunday morning, sick.  Stayed home from work on Monday, sick.  I went to work on Tuesday, sick.  I really started feeling better yesterday, but MSH and I met up with a bunch of his co-workers for dinner and drinks after work yesterday and went straight to bed when we got home last night.  So today, I vow to post two or three fat posts for you all.  I don't have any photos of food to show you with my recipe review because I was too sick to cook all week, but I do have photos of the doctor's son's, the J-boys (their names all begin with J) and some good news.  But, the biggest thing right now is, I'm not sick anymore!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-6937262480967073243?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/6937262480967073243/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=6937262480967073243' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/6937262480967073243'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/6937262480967073243'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/05/oh-blog-im-sorry-ive-been-gone-so-long.html' title='Oh Blog, I&apos;m sorry I&apos;ve been gone so long'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-938707279952967429</id><published>2008-05-02T19:09:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-02T19:25:21.413-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Recipe Review: Tex-Mex Summer Squash Casserole</title><content type='html'>One of the first dishes I made from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;eatingwell&lt;/span&gt;.com was the &lt;a href="http://www.eatingwell.com/recipes/tex_mex_squash_cass.html"&gt;Tex-Mex Summer Squash Casserole&lt;/a&gt; with some chicken dish I don't remember which because this side stole the show.  Now, I'm not really fond of spicy foods despite my Southern upbringing.  So, I left out the jalapenos, but if you like that sort of thing, go right ahead and make them.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;MSH&lt;/span&gt; asked for seconds, and thirds.  I was a little reluctant to make this because I was unsure about the combination of squash and salsa, but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;MSH&lt;/span&gt; said, "Woman, salsa goes with everything!"  So, I made it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I hadn't, I would have missed out on a delicious side dish.  The cheese and salsa are a classic combination, but the squash adds a freshness and a lightness that keeps the dish from sitting in the bottom of your tummy like a rock.  And, the salsa wakes up the standard, sometimes boring squash casserole.  It is a little time intensive, but if you have time to prepare and bake, it's a great side dish &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;that'll&lt;/span&gt; knock your family's socks off. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry, no photos of this one; I haven't made it in a while.  This week was filled with leftovers and standards that I've posted before.  Tomorrow we're heading into the city to guide Dr. Hoover and his family; his wife and sons are coming up to visit.  Also, I found a new store today while out to lunch with my boss and office mate--Zara.  My boss bought this shirt that I would have gotten had she not snapped it up first.  I may have to go back and get and make sure that I never wear it to work.  I may have created a shopping monster!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-938707279952967429?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/938707279952967429/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=938707279952967429' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/938707279952967429'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/938707279952967429'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/05/recipe-review-tex-mex-summer-squash.html' title='Recipe Review: Tex-Mex Summer Squash Casserole'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-3400867021980153334</id><published>2008-04-29T20:36:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-29T20:52:49.195-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shopping'/><title type='text'>Another Shopping Confession</title><content type='html'>I have another confession about shopping for you.  I have shopping cart &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;OCD&lt;/span&gt; and conveyor belt &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;OCD&lt;/span&gt;.  I have to place all the items in straight rows in the cart as I shop.  I also prefer to have everything in a single layer; I don't like to stack things in the cart, but I will if I have to.  I also have to put everything in straight rows at the checkout stand, and if the counter has and angled arm that narrows the stream of groceries reaching the clerk, I have to make my rows as narrow as the narrowest part so that my rows are maintained up until the moment the clerk scans and bags the items.  I hate seeing the person in front of me spread out along the entire width of the belt only to wind up with their bread smashed against canned peas.  Shopping with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;MSH&lt;/span&gt;, who does not have shopping cart &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;OCD&lt;/span&gt;, requires that I re-position all the items he puts in the cart.  I'm sure it drives him up the wall, but he and most of the store clerks react by simple shaking their heads and chuckling softly.  I just wish my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;OCD&lt;/span&gt; would manifest itself in other ways, like in my purse or closet or refrigerator or car and so on, and so forth. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning while I was scrolling through all the recipes in the comments on the latest Pioneer Woman contest, I caught a twinge of a new type of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;OCD&lt;/span&gt;--recipe &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;OCD&lt;/span&gt;.  I want to copy all the recipes, format and organize them, and publish and bind them into a book.  It was all I could do to actually spend my day working and not making a cookbook.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;MSH&lt;/span&gt; is obsessive about flossing; he even carries around a floss card in his wallet.  It's the size of a credit card, but a little thicker and filled with dental floss.  Unfortunately, his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;OCD&lt;/span&gt; only makes him more wonderful and the favorite patient of most dentists and mine makes the clerks at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Wal&lt;/span&gt;-Mart laugh at me.  What are you obsessive about?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-3400867021980153334?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/3400867021980153334/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=3400867021980153334' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/3400867021980153334'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/3400867021980153334'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/04/another-shopping-confession.html' title='Another Shopping Confession'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-2711195427037914763</id><published>2008-04-28T16:01:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-29T10:16:15.957-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shopping'/><title type='text'>Shopping Fun</title><content type='html'>Normally, I deplore shopping of almost every kind, but I had a great time on Saturday at Kohl's. Maybe my sense of style is changing, or maybe the clothes being made now are more like what I've been looking for all these years, or maybe I should have been shopping at Kohl's all along, but for the first time ever, I actually found more items that I wanted than I could purchase with a clear &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;conscience&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also usually have a rough time dealing with other shoppers and store employees, not with people in general, just with other shoppers and store employees when I'm shopping for clothing. I mean, I'm a nice, well-adjusted person, but something about shopping for clothes, turns me into a quivering mess. It makes me want to hide in a corner and suck my finger and cry. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;MSH&lt;/span&gt; usually has to pick out every item I try on because I just can't handle it. I don't know why. I wasn't always this way. I used to be able to go into any store, pick out what I liked, try on everything, make my selections, and check out. I also hate buying clothes online. If I can't try it on, I don't want to buy it because I am always, inevitably, disappointed. I never really LOVED shopping, but I could do it. Now, it's almost a phobia, or it was until Saturday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;MSH&lt;/span&gt; had flown to Atlanta to pick up some authentic Auburn jerseys of Ronnie Brown and Cadillac Williams that he bought (don't ask), and I was in need of some spring clothes. I had been wanting to go to Kohl's after seeing some of their sale ads and looking at their clothing online, so I just went. In the parking lot, I kind of started getting that dread, that realization that this always goes badly for me, that feeling that I should just go home and wait for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;MSH&lt;/span&gt; to return. But, I fought the urge to turn around, put in my earphones, turned on the music player on my phone, and ventured inside. I think I spent 3 hours combing the racks, trying things on, making decisions. I only called my mom once, and it was just to ask if I should get the green &amp;amp; brown or pink &amp;amp; brown dress. And I did it; I bought the dress, a skirt, 2 pairs of shorts, 2 shirts, a pair of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;capris&lt;/span&gt;, and tennis shoes. I earned $30 in Kohl's cash and couldn't wait to go back yesterday to spend it; I wasn't even upset that I'd have to exchange the shoes because the pair I bought only had one shoelace (exchanging or returning items is worse than the initial shopping for me). I wound up getting another shirt and let &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;MSH&lt;/span&gt; use the rest of it on stuff for himself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's what I bought, minus the Docker's khaki capris because I couldn't find them online.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.kohls.com/kohlsStore/womens/dresses/PRD~317138/apt+9+Tulip+Dress.jsp"&gt;Here's the dress: (I got the green)&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.kohls.com/kohlsStore/womens/knittops/shortsleeve/PRD~312164/apt+9+Drapeneck+Top.jsp"&gt;A Shirt (in aqua)&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.kohls.com/kohlsStore/womens/skirtsscooters/skirts/PRD~312747/apt+9+Floral+Broomstick+Skirt.jsp"&gt;To go with this skirt (aqua, too)&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.kohls.com/kohlsStore/womens/shirtsblouses/shortsleeve/PRD~319956/Sonoma+life+style+Eyelet+Top+Set.jsp"&gt;Another shirt (in pink)&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.kohls.com/kohlsStore/womens/brands16w24w/apt9/bottoms/PRD~337505/apt+9+Bermuda+Shorts.jsp"&gt;To go with these (in mahogany)&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.kohls.com/kohlsStore/womens/brands16w24w/lee/PRD~321360/Lee+Denim+Midrise+Bermuda+Shorts.jsp"&gt;Some shorts for the weekends&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.kohls.com/kohlsStore/womens/knittops/shortsleeve/PRD~334863/Sonoma+life+style+Striped+Pique+Polo.jsp"&gt;A fushia striped polo:&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nike.com/index.jhtml#l=nikestore,grid,_pdp,cid-1/gid-142235/pid-142234,_grid,f-10001+12001+4294967130+26027&amp;amp;re=US&amp;amp;co=US&amp;amp;la=EN"&gt;Also, new walking shoes, the mostly white ones. I bought them at Kohl's though.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt such a sense of pride and accomplishment. Isn't that crazy? Of all the things I have that I can be proud of, I'm most satisfied that I could complete one shopping trip. Unfortunately, I can't wear any of my new clothes until Thursday at the earliest. It started raining last night and has turned chilly. The next test for my new-found bravery--the outlet mall...&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Duhn&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Duhn&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Duhn&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-2711195427037914763?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/2711195427037914763/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=2711195427037914763' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/2711195427037914763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/2711195427037914763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/04/shopping-fun.html' title='Shopping Fun'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-5857695633706328454</id><published>2008-04-25T18:29:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-25T18:53:28.975-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Recipe Review(s): Cookies</title><content type='html'>Wow, I can't believe how un-bloggy I've been this week. From busy days at work to staying up late making cookies to participating in a medical study, I've just not been feeling like spending more time in front of the computer. I also don't have photos of the recipes for today's posts because I didn't start the cookies until 10 pm and didn't have time to deal with the camera and all the cookies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So first I made a batch of &lt;a href="http://www.eatingwell.com/recipes/chocolate_chip_Cookies.html"&gt;Chocolate Chip Cookies&lt;/a&gt; from the Eating Well website. First, I was thrown off by the small amount of sugar in the recipe, then I saw that it had cream cheese. Cream cheese is one of my favorite ingredients. I can also eat it straight, but MSH usually insists that I at least put it on a Town House cracker. He says that it at least suggests that I have some class. The cookies turned out light, airy, almost fluffy and not very sweet. The 8-year old girl, GG, who came to our office for "Bring Your Child to Work Day" ate at least 8 of them, so the lack of sugar was not a bad thing according to her. I thought the were pretty good, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next, I made an alternate version, &lt;a href="http://www.eatingwell.com/recipes/chocolate_chip_cookie.html"&gt;Bev's Chocolate Chip Cookies &lt;/a&gt;from the same website. Now this recipe uses whole-wheat flour and ground oatmeal. Since it was almost 11 when I started this batch, I didn't grind up the oats. Well, because it was nearly 11 and because I love oatmeal cookies, I didn't grind the oats. Maybe because I didn't grind the oats, the chip to batter ratio was a little too high, so these cookies had a hard time sticking together when I dropped them on the cookie sheet and a few fell apart after baking as well. Despite their difficulty holding up, these were my favorite cookies. The whole wheat flour didn't make them heavy, as I had feared. Rather, they were crispy and buttery and a little sweeter than the first, but not overly so. Next time I need to clear the chocolate chips out of my freezer, I'll make these, but I'll increase the batter to oats and chips ratio. Yummy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, there where the &lt;a href="http://www.cooks.com/rec/doc/0,1710,148170-246196,00.html"&gt;Chocolate Cookies with White Chocolate Chips&lt;/a&gt; from Cooks.com. The first batch out of the oven were too soft and a little undercooked, so I increased the cooking time to 10 minutes for the next batch. These were better, but still a bit too soft. The final 2 batches, I left on the foil to cool overnight. These were perfect, still soft, but not falling apart. This recipe also makes more than 36 cookies using my teaspoons to measure them out. I actually was so exhausted by the time I finished the last 2 batches, I put the remaining batter (about enough for 8 more cookies) down the disposal. These were good, and the flavor was very brownie-like, and they were a little too sweet for me. However, they were the favorites of GG's older sister HG and most of the other people in my office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, all 3 recipes were a hit, but I preferred the Oatmeal Chocolate Chip above all others. There was also an adorable little blond boy who broke my heart. When I offered him a cookie, he looked my offering, turned up his nose and said, in a cute Italian accent, "I'm quite sure that I hate choc-co-lot!" He couldn't have been more that 5 years-old. I almost cried, but then he smiled at me, and my heart melted, and I forgave him instantly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have fun baking!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-5857695633706328454?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/5857695633706328454/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=5857695633706328454' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/5857695633706328454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/5857695633706328454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/04/recipe-reviews-cookies.html' title='Recipe Review(s): Cookies'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-2703821027444403842</id><published>2008-04-22T08:12:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-23T09:00:23.802-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='weather'/><title type='text'>Grey</title><content type='html'>It's been raining since Sunday here, but they're saying it'll let up today. I'm really tired of all the grey around here lately, but at least the rain has turned everything a beautiful shade of spring green. Something about rainy weather saps my energy and makes me want to sleep. Is it because there's no sunlight to reduce my melatonin production in the morning or some left over instinct to stay in the dry cave during bad weather? I don't know, but I need some sunshine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've been busy the last few days. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;MSH's&lt;/span&gt; college buddy, Dr. Hoover, and one of his colleagues have come to town for a course at Walter Reed. They arrived Saturday evening, so we spent all day Saturday preparing for their arrival. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;MSH&lt;/span&gt; grilled steaks and made bacon-wrapped scallops, shrimp, and water chestnuts. I baked a few potatoes and made a peach cobbler (from a mix). After I had all the ingredients together and in the pan for the cobbler, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;MSH&lt;/span&gt; and I freaked out a little because of all the liquid in the pan, so we scooped a bit of the excess liquid out--mistake. It wasn't &lt;em&gt;dry&lt;/em&gt;, but it wasn't as moist as we're accustomed to. Of course, that didn't stop us from eating it all. The guys rolled in around 8:30 or so, and we ate a late dinner and watched a boxing match. Well, they watched a boxing match; I mostly spun around in my chair and stared at the ceiling. I did catch enough of it to determine that Bernard Hopkins is a cheater, but he lost anyways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday, I got up and puttered around the house for a while, tried and failed to get &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;MSH&lt;/span&gt; out of bed to make the Boston Butt we'd promised our friends, and generally waited for the guys to get it together. We met them for lunch at Fridays and headed into the city in the pouring rain. We had hoped that the rain would hold off so that we could go to the free concert on the Mall, but that didn't happen, so we settled for the Natural History Museum. Luckily, we were the only people with that idea. That was sarcasm, but I guess you can't hear it through the computer. We spent a couple of hours there, until it closed and headed back home while our visitors went in search for a reasonably priced grocery store near their apartment. We napped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, on the way home from work, My Sweet Husband decided to stop by the grocery store and pick up a couple of things (Cokes and toilet paper). I swear he was only inside for 34.7 seconds, but he came out with 3 bags of stuff, including Salt &amp;amp; Malt Vinegar &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Utz&lt;/span&gt; Chips, a box of lasagna noodles, ricotta cheese, shredded &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Mozzarella&lt;/span&gt; and Provolone cheese, and a few other things I didn't see before he put them all away. He had seen the noodles on sale and decided that we should have lasagna for dinner, so he bought the other things we'd need. He also remembered that he'd promised Hoover &amp;amp; Windham that he'd buy the chips for them to try, so he got those, too. Who knows what else he bought or why, but he must just run through the store on his long legs (he's 6'2") and scoop everything into the cart like that show where the kids got to run &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;through&lt;/span&gt; the toy store and fill as many carts as possible with all the stuff they wanted. Man, I wanted to be on that show! Does anyone remember the name of that show? Oh yeah, I go off on tangents a lot. Anyways, we got home and made lasagna and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;MSH&lt;/span&gt; cooked that Boston Butt. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;MSH&lt;/span&gt; also broke into the bag of Chips, but I can't really blame him, they are &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;SOOOOO&lt;/span&gt; hard to resist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With all this food prepared, I probably won't have to cook for the rest of the week, unless we can get the hungry doctors to come back. So, I may have to do a recipe review this week without photos. I'm waiting on the replacement part for my sewing machine to finish the napkins, so in the meantime, I've started back on the needlepoint poppy, and I'm crocheting a string bag for shopping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The grey is slowly changing to blue outside my window, so my mood is lifting. Plus, the people I work with just gave us chocolate cake, and I'm a little buzzed from the sugar.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-2703821027444403842?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/2703821027444403842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=2703821027444403842' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/2703821027444403842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/2703821027444403842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/04/grey.html' title='Grey'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-6410357739951448658</id><published>2008-04-19T12:46:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-19T13:07:43.353-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Recipe Review: Chili-Rubbed Tilapia with Asparagus &amp; Lemon</title><content type='html'>One of our new favorite dishes that's perfect for these warm spring nights is &lt;a href="http://www.eatingwell.com/recipes/chili_tilapia_asparagus.html"&gt;Chili-Rubbed Tilapia with Asparagus &amp;amp; Lemon&lt;/a&gt;. It's light and fresh and easy, perfect for when you don't want to spend all night in the kitchen or eat a really heavy meal. I love fresh asparagus and just about any kind of fish. Sometimes, I leave out the lemon juice when I make this for a little bit of variety. Here's what it looks like when I make it. I halve the recipe and usually have enough for MSH and me with a few pieces of fish and some rice left for me for lunch the next day. I also cut up the fish into smaller pieces so that they don't fall apart when I turn them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SAoj1R21ENI/AAAAAAAAAJg/nVtHsEckLnc/s1600-h/Fish+%26+Asparagus.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191000918731329746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SAoj1R21ENI/AAAAAAAAAJg/nVtHsEckLnc/s400/Fish+%26+Asparagus.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You may have noticed that I don't use the spice the recipe calls for either. I use this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SAoj1h21EOI/AAAAAAAAAJo/Oa4mEqCrcMc/s1600-h/DSC01327.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191000923026297058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SAoj1h21EOI/AAAAAAAAAJo/Oa4mEqCrcMc/s400/DSC01327.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; If your local grocery store doesn't carry this, you can buy it &lt;a href="http://www.ashmanco.com/index.php?cPath=17"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;. I suggest you do so because it's really good on most fish whether you saute, bake, or grill it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Also, that side of rice, it's not rice, it's risotto, and it's evil; you should never make it. But if you do, you will dream about it, and your sweet husband or wife or whoever will beg you to make it over and over. I just follow the directions that come on the container we buy at the store. It's easy, but time consuming. It requires almost constant stirring for at least 30 minutes, but it's worth it.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-6410357739951448658?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/6410357739951448658/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=6410357739951448658' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/6410357739951448658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/6410357739951448658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/04/recipe-review-chili-rubbed-tilapia-with.html' title='Recipe Review: Chili-Rubbed Tilapia with Asparagus &amp; Lemon'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SAoj1R21ENI/AAAAAAAAAJg/nVtHsEckLnc/s72-c/Fish+%26+Asparagus.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-744922321279369592</id><published>2008-04-17T21:54:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-17T21:39:18.904-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><title type='text'>Today in Pictures</title><content type='html'>I have no excuse. I just don't have a decent photos of my new haircut. Maybe in 2011.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I do have a chronicle of my day in photos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, after lying in denial for 20 minutes, I got out of bed before dawn. It's just not fair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SAf4RVrH7sI/AAAAAAAAAI4/9W1X3XV3Fvo/s1600-h/DSC01342.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190390072327270082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SAf4RVrH7sI/AAAAAAAAAI4/9W1X3XV3Fvo/s400/DSC01342.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided that Spring is here, and I'm wearing sandals, finally, even if it is 44 degrees this morning!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SAf4R1rH7tI/AAAAAAAAAJA/EwrMhzbfvik/s1600-h/DSC01345.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190390080917204690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SAf4R1rH7tI/AAAAAAAAAJA/EwrMhzbfvik/s400/DSC01345.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Then, I rode into battle with MSH.  Not that I helped; I put on my make-up, but I rode into it.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SAf4S1rH7uI/AAAAAAAAAJI/PHVkxULzq58/s1600-h/DSC01354.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190390098097073890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SAf4S1rH7uI/AAAAAAAAAJI/PHVkxULzq58/s400/DSC01354.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I worked.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SAf4TVrH7vI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/f5EJgJKavZg/s1600-h/DSC01343.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190390106687008498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SAf4TVrH7vI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/f5EJgJKavZg/s400/DSC01343.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I tried to take photos of my haircut on my lunch break.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SAf4T1rH7wI/AAAAAAAAAJY/xSzv7sdRrT4/s1600-h/DSC01348.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190390115276943106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SAf4T1rH7wI/AAAAAAAAAJY/xSzv7sdRrT4/s400/DSC01348.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; It didn't work.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SAfzNVrH7nI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/5Q05lMIYUuA/s1600-h/DSC01351.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190384506049654386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SAfzNVrH7nI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/5Q05lMIYUuA/s400/DSC01351.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We rode back into battle again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SAfzN1rH7oI/AAAAAAAAAIY/MRtgeyGN6LQ/s1600-h/DSC01357.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190384514639588994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SAfzN1rH7oI/AAAAAAAAAIY/MRtgeyGN6LQ/s400/DSC01357.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I wondered what kind of tree this is.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SAfzOVrH7pI/AAAAAAAAAIg/8O7Td9LyLZs/s1600-h/DSC01353.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190384523229523602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SAfzOVrH7pI/AAAAAAAAAIg/8O7Td9LyLZs/s400/DSC01353.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I bought a replacement part for the sewing machine my office-mate gave me since mine gave out.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SAfzO1rH7qI/AAAAAAAAAIo/R_T-VMfbsf4/s1600-h/DSC01360.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190384531819458210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SAfzO1rH7qI/AAAAAAAAAIo/R_T-VMfbsf4/s400/DSC01360.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I worked on this.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SAfzPVrH7rI/AAAAAAAAAIw/EBcPMMZMk1Y/s1600-h/DSC01359.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190384540409392818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SAfzPVrH7rI/AAAAAAAAAIw/EBcPMMZMk1Y/s400/DSC01359.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I cleaned up, watched TV, and went to bed.  This is my typical work day.  What's your day like?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-744922321279369592?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/744922321279369592/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=744922321279369592' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/744922321279369592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/744922321279369592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/04/today-in-pictures.html' title='Today in Pictures'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SAf4RVrH7sI/AAAAAAAAAI4/9W1X3XV3Fvo/s72-c/DSC01342.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-1488526995673598284</id><published>2008-04-15T14:05:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-15T19:43:49.673-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='childhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><title type='text'>Misconceptions of Youth</title><content type='html'>Sorry, I still don't have a photo of my new haircut; by the time I got around to taking a photo, I had worked all day, ridden home with the windows open, gone to the tanning salon, and eaten dinner. I no longer have photographable hair, but I do have this photo that I thought about while hearing the weather report this morning around 5:30 am. They were predicting a low of 29 tonight, and this is what flashed into my less than awake mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SAU6D1rH7bI/AAAAAAAAAG0/SUwAoQHWaU8/s1600-h/IM001397.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189617983236337074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SAU6D1rH7bI/AAAAAAAAAG0/SUwAoQHWaU8/s400/IM001397.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, it's not a postcard or cheesy backdrop from Olin Mills; this is the actual view from my balcony when it snows.  I don't know if I was hoping to wake up to this tomorrow so I wouldn't have to go to work or hoping that it doesn't happen because I deplore cold weather so much.  In our home, "snow" is the 4-letter s-word.  Either way, it's a moot point because they've changed the forecasted low to 41.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week a friend of mine posted a blog on her myspace account where she listed 10 random things about herself, then tagged 10 people to list things about themselves and tag 10 more people. So I put up my list, but I don't think that it was good enough to repost here. There were a couple of things that I couldn't seem to let go of, things about what I used to believe as a child. I'm not talking about the Easter Bunny or Santa or the Tooth Fairy; I'm referring to those beliefs that I came to using my own logic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The one that I find most interesting is that I believed that airplanes caused jet streams and that if all those planes would just quit flying in the same places everyday, then we wouldn't have to deal with the bad weather caused by those pesky jet streams. I knew that jets were big planes, and I had seen the planes make jet streams in the sky, you know, those white lines of smoke or steam that sometimes trail planes. So when I heard Rich Thomas talk about the jet streams bringing the storms or the cold fronts, I naturally assumed that he was referring to the white lines behind the planes. It did occur to me that airplanes shouldn't really have that much affect on the weather, but there was no other reasonable explanation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my dad's favorite things I got wrong is that I thought that a small amount of something was called a tab. That was around the time that I was still trying to find my verbal style, so I was repeating phrases I'd heard, and I'd heard, somewhere, some one ask another person if they wanted something. That's a really confusing way to say that I'd heard my dad, for instance, ask my mom if she wanted some water and she'd replied "Just a tad." I guess Tab soda must have been pretty popular at that time as well, so I believed that mom was saying that she wanted "just a tab", meaning just a little bit of water. So for a while, whenever any one asked me if I wanted something, I'd say "Just a tab."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also believed the things that many kids do.  I believed that my dad was the strongest man in the world, my mom was the prettiest woman ever, my Uncle Bob was 8 feet tall, and all my Pa-Paw's stories were true.  I believed that brothers were put on this earth for the sole purpose of tormenting their sisters, that younger brothers (and most other people) should do as I said, that my brothers were the best in the world (I still believe that), and that my brothers were more spoiled than me.  The fact that all those beliefs were contradictory mattered very little because I rarely believed more than one at any given moment.  I may not have even thought to believe it then, but I believe now that I had one of the richest childhoods in history and that I couldn't have been more loved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leave me a comment with some of the funny stuff you (or your children or grandchildren or whoever) believed as a kid because I think this sort of thing is just too much fun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-1488526995673598284?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/1488526995673598284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=1488526995673598284' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/1488526995673598284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/1488526995673598284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/04/misconceptions-of-youth.html' title='Misconceptions of Youth'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SAU6D1rH7bI/AAAAAAAAAG0/SUwAoQHWaU8/s72-c/IM001397.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-4547762341978124892</id><published>2008-04-14T17:39:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-14T18:11:18.879-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='MSH'/><title type='text'>I lost 5 pounds in an hour!</title><content type='html'>I got a haircut!  So did &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;MSH&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, my camera's battery is dead, so I can't show you until tomorrow.  Technically, I could show you later tonight, but the charger is in the car, and I don't want to go downstairs to get it.  Plus, I know that I won't be getting back on the computer tonight after I post this blog, and I'd hate to promise you a photo, then not deliver.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got our haircuts (hairs cut?) on Friday afternoon at our local salon.  Since we've started working together, we do almost everything together.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;MSH&lt;/span&gt; said that he felt like we were 60 years old because getting a haircut together is something like his grandparents would do.  I could think of a million couples like whom it would be worse to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not much else that I can tell you for now, but I may have more news in the next few weeks.  We'll see.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-4547762341978124892?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/4547762341978124892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=4547762341978124892' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/4547762341978124892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/4547762341978124892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/04/i-lost-5-pounds-in-hour.html' title='I lost 5 pounds in an hour!'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-2634706104596430245</id><published>2008-04-13T17:39:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-13T18:09:38.584-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Crafts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Embroidery'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sewing'/><title type='text'>Saturday Crafts: Cloth Napkins</title><content type='html'>I know, I'm a day late with this, but my sewing machine decided to give up the ghost yesterday.  Despite my pleading and cajoling, it just wouldn't cooperate, so I think I'm going to have to take it to a repair shop or break down and buy a new one.  So, this project is not complete, but I wanted to share what I have done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my quest to become more environmentally and budget &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;conscious&lt;/span&gt;, I've decided to make cloth napkins.  They are quite simple.  Just cut out squares about 1/2 inch larger on all sides than you intend the finished napkins to be, turn each side under 1/4 inch and stitch, then turn each side under 1/4 inch again, and stitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cut out all my napkins.  Here are four that are made from striped and patterned cloth.  I'm just going to hem the edges and use these as they are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SAKAIFrH7XI/AAAAAAAAAGU/N0tS1PVyRps/s1600-h/DSC01308.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188850597134593394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SAKAIFrH7XI/AAAAAAAAAGU/N0tS1PVyRps/s400/DSC01308.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; On the plain cloth, I decided to embroider our initials on them.  I haven't washed these to remove the markings for the embroidery because I haven't hemmed them yet.  Once the sewing machine is back in order, I'll be able to wash away the errant markings.  First, I made a set using a thread that is similar in color to the napkins for a tonal look.  I used a stem stitch for these.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SAKAIlrH7YI/AAAAAAAAAGc/HGZBWX3wRKs/s1600-h/DSC01310.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188850605724528002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SAKAIlrH7YI/AAAAAAAAAGc/HGZBWX3wRKs/s400/DSC01310.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Next, I wanted to use some color, so I made a set in blue, still using the stem stitch.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SAKAI1rH7ZI/AAAAAAAAAGk/fZuXz2LXu7Q/s1600-h/DSC01311.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188850610019495314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SAKAI1rH7ZI/AAAAAAAAAGk/fZuXz2LXu7Q/s400/DSC01311.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Finally, I was tired of the stem stitch, so a made a third set in green using &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;backstitching&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SAKAJVrH7aI/AAAAAAAAAGs/P7NSUeq98AU/s1600-h/DSC01313.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188850618609429922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SAKAJVrH7aI/AAAAAAAAAGs/P7NSUeq98AU/s400/DSC01313.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Hopefully, I'll get the machine fixed soon so I don't have to finish these by hand.  I also have several other half-done projects that require the machine.  Until then, I'll be working on the needle-point poppy I've been working on for ever.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-2634706104596430245?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/2634706104596430245/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=2634706104596430245' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/2634706104596430245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/2634706104596430245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/04/saturday-crafts-cloth-napkins.html' title='Saturday Crafts: Cloth Napkins'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/SAKAIFrH7XI/AAAAAAAAAGU/N0tS1PVyRps/s72-c/DSC01308.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-6120441972907655938</id><published>2008-04-11T10:50:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-13T17:31:27.592-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Recipe Review: Pumpkin Bread</title><content type='html'>This past fall, we started entertaining friends a little more often, and to show off, I started making new dishes. One day, I made a White &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Chocolate&lt;/span&gt; Pumpkin Cheesecake. After our friends left and we finished the cheesecake, I still had leftover canned pumpkin. So, I went to &lt;a href="http://www.recipezaar.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;RecipeZaar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; to find a use for this pumpkin. I hated to throw it away. Well, I found this recipe for &lt;a href="http://www.recipezaar.com/2510"&gt;Pumpkin Spice Bread&lt;/a&gt; and decided to try it. Am I ever glad I did!   This recipe makes 2 loaves, and I usually have enough batter left for a mini loaf for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;MSH&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, it's easy. You just mix it up, pour it in the pans and bake it. Second, even if it didn't taste good, I'd bake it just for the way it makes my house smell. Third, it's delicious! It's like a spice cake with a hint of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;pumpkin&lt;/span&gt;; it's so moist and flavorful, perfect for a fall or winter, or even early spring treat. It's great just by itself, but if you put a little cream cheese frosting on it, oh man. It's Katy-Bar-the-Door good. Here's what it looked like yesterday when I served it yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_-NQSKGkvI/AAAAAAAAAGM/2oWGK7-Xbhs/s1600-h/DSC01306.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188020606645736178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_-NQSKGkvI/AAAAAAAAAGM/2oWGK7-Xbhs/s400/DSC01306.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Of course, there was more made than would fit on the platter, so I had to have a piece to make sure I wouldn't poison everyone.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_-LiiKGkrI/AAAAAAAAAFs/HO2wrhW7dn4/s1600-h/DSC01300.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188018721155093170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_-LiiKGkrI/AAAAAAAAAFs/HO2wrhW7dn4/s400/DSC01300.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_-LjCKGksI/AAAAAAAAAF0/CJocWlInSB4/s1600-h/DSC01301.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188018729745027778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_-LjCKGksI/AAAAAAAAAF0/CJocWlInSB4/s400/DSC01301.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I felt guilty about eating this whole piece, so I gave half of it to a co-worker. Then, I felt that I needed a reward for sharing, so I added some frosting. Now this frosting came from a can, but considering I was up until 11 the night before making the bread, I wasn't in the mood to try to make frosting, too. Plus, there's nothing wrong with store-bought frosting, sometimes I eat it straight from the tub.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_-LkCKGkuI/AAAAAAAAAGE/xmdUvn-ar2g/s1600-h/DSC01304.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188018746924896994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_-LkCKGkuI/AAAAAAAAAGE/xmdUvn-ar2g/s400/DSC01304.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;p&gt;Be still, my heart...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_-LjyKGktI/AAAAAAAAAF8/CX9eRKpwauY/s1600-h/DSC01302.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188018742629929682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_-LjyKGktI/AAAAAAAAAF8/CX9eRKpwauY/s400/DSC01302.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, go make this because it's easy and delicious, and if you share it with anyone, they will love you instantly!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-6120441972907655938?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/6120441972907655938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=6120441972907655938' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/6120441972907655938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/6120441972907655938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/04/recipe-review-pumpkin-bread.html' title='Recipe Review: Pumpkin Bread'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_-NQSKGkvI/AAAAAAAAAGM/2oWGK7-Xbhs/s72-c/DSC01306.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-3228485240112912669</id><published>2008-04-10T13:22:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-10T18:36:46.052-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Happy Birthday, Nannie!</title><content type='html'>Wow, another one. But, if you think this is a lot of birthdays, wait until January.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is MSH's grandmother's birthday. We call her Nannie, and she is one of MSH's biggest fans. Of course, MSH absolutely adores her, too. They always have something great to talk about. Nannie loves MSH so much that she attended our wedding against medical advice. She had blood clots in her legs, and the doctors wanted to admit her to the hospital. She flatly refused, saying that her grandson was getting married and she was going to be there. So, she told them, they'd better figure out something else. Once she makes her mind up, there's no changing it, so the doctor gave her some medication and strict instructions to take it easy and come back first thing Monday morning. If we had known, we would have insisted that she take care of herself, first, but we wouldn't have been able to convince her either. Well, maybe MSH would have; she does tend to listen to him when she won't listen to any one else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MSH captured these shots from some old home movies they recently had burned to DVD. Each family member received a copy at Christmas this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_6VXCKGkpI/AAAAAAAAAFc/Nqu8AMoksyQ/s1600-h/20080112-223323.BMP"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187748043726164626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_6VXCKGkpI/AAAAAAAAAFc/Nqu8AMoksyQ/s400/20080112-223323.BMP" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_6VXSKGkqI/AAAAAAAAAFk/X-p6JsMKDyA/s1600-h/20080112-223455.BMP"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187748048021131938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_6VXSKGkqI/AAAAAAAAAFk/X-p6JsMKDyA/s400/20080112-223455.BMP" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Nannie has got to be one of the neatest women I've ever met. She married Papa and moved all over the world with him. They lived in Japan and the Caribbean and all over the US. They retired to Alabama, and Papa had a second career from which he retired years ago. When MSH was a little boy, he and his family lived just down the road from Nannie and Papa, and he would ride his bike to go visit Nannie. She's devoted to her family and friends and church and has a great sense of humor. And she's a beautiful part of our lives. We love you, Nannie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MSH &amp;amp; Me.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;PS Thanks to my new readers for leaving comments.  They make me very happy.  Also, I've put the recipe for the German Sweet Potato Pies in the comments for that post.  Happy Baking!  And tomorrow--Pumpkin Spice Bread.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-3228485240112912669?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/3228485240112912669/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=3228485240112912669' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/3228485240112912669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/3228485240112912669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/04/happy-birthday-nannie.html' title='Happy Birthday, Nannie!'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_6VXCKGkpI/AAAAAAAAAFc/Nqu8AMoksyQ/s72-c/20080112-223323.BMP' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-1232460604593215464</id><published>2008-04-09T08:32:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-09T16:42:43.895-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='MSH'/><title type='text'>How MSH and I became MSH and Me</title><content type='html'>It's been 2 whole days since I posted anything, but I'm here now. I was feeling a little under the weather on Monday, then spent all day Tuesday catching up. I'm sure you know how it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, I posted a comment on &lt;a href="http://thepioneerwoman.com/cooking/2008/04/400-williams-sonoma-giveaway-dont-miss-it-baby/"&gt;Pioneer Woman's blog &lt;/a&gt;(she's my inspiration for starting this blog) hoping to win a William's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Sonoma&lt;/span&gt; gift card (I didn't; Darn you random number generator for not coming up with 44!!). Anyways, as a result, I have had a flood of new visitors, or at least a puddle of new visitors, in the past 24 hours. I don't know why, but I've become obsessed with checking my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;sitemeter&lt;/span&gt;.com account to see how many people visit my site and where they're from. I can't see names, but I can tell when my mom or two of my aunts visit because I know who their &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;ISPs&lt;/span&gt; are and where they live. Also, since the three of them live in pretty small communities and use less popular &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;ISPs&lt;/span&gt;, they are easy to spot. But the rest of the visitors are my mysterious audience, and I love an audience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On to the topic for today: How &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;MSH&lt;/span&gt; and I became &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;MSH&lt;/span&gt; and me. Please note that all conversations recounted here are verbatim as far as I'm concerned. We were in ninth grade together, but we didn't know each other then. It was his first year at the school (it was Jr. High; 7&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;-9&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; grades), and he was one of the cool kids, and I was (am) a nerd. I wasn't even aware of his existence, and I'm sure he was not aware of mine. I don't know how we never met back then; the school was rather small, and we knew all the same people, just in different contexts. So we had to wait almost 8 more years before we'd have a chance to meet again. So, here's how it happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My beautiful friend Dalton and I were waiting tables at a restaurant in my hometown. We'd only met a few months earlier but were instant friends, just add water and PRESTO! She decided to have a housewarming party in August of 1999, so of course, I was there. She and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;MSH&lt;/span&gt; went to high school together, and once you're a friend of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;MSH&lt;/span&gt; or Dalton, you are never forgotten. So, of course, he was invited there, too. We were introduced and had several conversations throughout the night and a couple of card games with various groups. He was there with several friends, some of whom had names I recognized from my Jr. High yearbook, and they were involved with some of the conversations to varying degrees and in different combinations. Before too long, I knew, I really liked this guy, and I'd really like it if this guy would ask me out or something. He was tall and handsome and smart and funny and interesting. He looked so cool in his unbuttoned &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Abercrombie&lt;/span&gt; plaid shirt; somehow he pulled off long sleeves in August in Alabama without looking strange. But then, tragedy, the words "my girlfriend" fell from his lips like an atom-bomb on my hours-old crush. He had a girlfriend. I felt the hot sting of disappointment paint my cheeks pink and chastised myself for being so silly. I admit, I allowed the conversation to peter out, and we finished our card game. I left the kitchen to hide in the comfort of the company of my friend Dalton, never mentioned the event to anyone, and assumed it was over. As I'm sure you've guessed, it wasn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two days later, at the restaurant, my friend Dalton comes in grinning. Dalton has a big smile everyday, but this one was different, bigger and sly. She had that I've-got-a-secret look in her eyes, and she was almost exploding with the prospect of telling me something. I thought she'd met a man or won the lottery, not that Alabama has a lottery, but never the less. She starts out, casually, "So, do you remember that guy, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;MSH&lt;/span&gt;, that you met at my party."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm thinking "Oh, crap, was I that obvious, how could he have known, I didn't say anything stupid, did I?" In that nanosecond between her question and my leery response, I replayed every moment with him and every word I said, searching for any clues that I may have let slip my irrational instant infatuation and my subsequent disappointment. Nothing. I answer, "yea", trying to sound just a casual as her. I don't think it worked. For one thing, I wasn't able to look him in the eyes after she mentioned his name, so the whole conversation is taking place while she looks at me in profile and I look at her out of the furthest corner of my eye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She goes on, "Well, he called me the day after the party and said 'So, what's the story with your friend?'." I felt my whole head turn red; my ears burst into flames and started ringing; and I used every ounce of self-restraint I have ever possessed to keep myself from jumping up and down. Then I remembered the vilest words I'd ever heard, "my girlfriend", and died. Then I came back to life just in time to hear her say "I told him that you were a really great girl and he said 'Do you think she'd marry me?'." I fainted. Not really, I've never fainted. But, on this occasion, I did almost pee my pants, my vision grew dim, and the ringing in my ears jumped another octave and a half. She continued, "I told him that he should ask you out first." I was utterly stunned, nearly speechless, and didn't believe a word she said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My ability to form more than one syllable at a time returned, and I uttered the only sentence my feeble brain could come up with at the time, "But, I thought he had a girlfriend." Her reply changed my life forever. "Oh, he does, but he's about to break up with her. The only reason he hasn't yet is that her birthday is next week, and he didn't want to be the jerk who dumps a girl right before her birthday. So, after he breaks up with her, he's going to ask you out, okay?" I managed to say "okay" and maintain consciousness throughout the remainder of my shift. Every day after that I looked for him to walk through the door, any door I happened to be near; I imagined seeing his tall figure, silhouetted by the street lamps, stroll through the restaurant doors. I half-expected to see him leaning against my car every time I left the place; I fantasized about him being behind every door I opened. Days passed, weeks. He never showed up. I didn't know what to do. I'd fixated on him so wholly that I couldn't imagine what would happen if he didn't come around. I was irrational; I felt like a crazy woman who builds relationships with people she's never really met. I could see how insane I was being, but I had no ability to stop myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, on the worst possible night, he appeared, in the green room with a bunch of his friends to shoot pool. It was Parrot Head night, so I was wearing a sleeveless mid-riff bearing Hawaiian print top with my hair in two ponytails. When I saw him, I wished that I could turn back the clock and return to the time when our uniforms were flattering black vests over long-sleeve black button-down shirts and black skirts. I wished I'd done something more adult with my hair; and I prayed for a shirt that covered my belly button. None of those wishes came true. Instead, the prayer I'd prayed for weeks did. We talked for a little while, but I had work to do, so I had to keep leaving. Finally, he met me at the front of the room, away from his friends, and asked me if I'd like to go out with him. He was so calm and cool, and I had sweat huge puddles in the past few minutes. I, of course, accepted. I said something that I know was remarkably dorky, even for me, but I can't remember what it was. I do remember that my vision had dimmed again, my ears were ringing, and I'd made 5 trips to the bathroom to pee since he'd arrived. Whatever I said prompted him to explain that he'd waited so long to ask me out because he didn't want to be one of those creeps who asked me out in the restaurant, but finally he realized that there was no other place to ask me out because Dalton wasn't having another party until Christmas and just showing up someplace where he knew I'd be seemed even more creepy. So, that's how our story begins.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll tell you more of our story later, like how I knew I wanted to marry him, the time he kept that really big secret, and other important or insignificant tales.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-1232460604593215464?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/1232460604593215464/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=1232460604593215464' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/1232460604593215464'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/1232460604593215464'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/04/how-msh-and-i-became-msh-and-me.html' title='How MSH and I became MSH and Me'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-4399288203919303014</id><published>2008-04-06T07:58:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-06T08:25:26.933-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Happy Birthday,Richard!</title><content type='html'>We have another nephew turning 2 this week.  So, both our little guys are 2 now, no longer babies.  They're both turning out to be sweet little guys who will drive all the girls crazy in a few years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_i79rgN98I/AAAAAAAAAEc/q3DVhrOlz_w/s1600-h/Chalkface.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186101639241398210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_i79rgN98I/AAAAAAAAAEc/q3DVhrOlz_w/s400/Chalkface.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What can I say, I love this kid.  He's such a ham.  He loves to sing and have his picture taken and play with his cousins. He's going to visit Thomas the Train today and had is birthday party at Chucky Cheese last week.  His mom and dad sent me a video of him singing "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star", then he randomly breaks into saying hi to me and kissing the camera.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-11a61f8d84685e04" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v19.nonxt4.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D11a61f8d84685e04%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1330040281%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D460ADC6B957AAF3938F06BC603F37009BF08975F.25CB0889FAB3D774525A1820BC536E6B18325973%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D11a61f8d84685e04%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DxvKxhcBJifv1ujFpRdbcrFhtOKQ&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v19.nonxt4.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D11a61f8d84685e04%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1330040281%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D460ADC6B957AAF3938F06BC603F37009BF08975F.25CB0889FAB3D774525A1820BC536E6B18325973%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D11a61f8d84685e04%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DxvKxhcBJifv1ujFpRdbcrFhtOKQ&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I told you he's a ham!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;We love you, Richard!  Happy birthday!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Uncle MSH &amp;amp; Aunt Me.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-4399288203919303014?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=11a61f8d84685e04&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/4399288203919303014/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=4399288203919303014' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/4399288203919303014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/4399288203919303014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/04/happy-birthdayrichard.html' title='Happy Birthday,Richard!'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_i79rgN98I/AAAAAAAAAEc/q3DVhrOlz_w/s72-c/Chalkface.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-5829937048257605455</id><published>2008-04-05T18:08:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-05T18:45:41.545-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='photos'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Saturday: No Crafts, Pies</title><content type='html'>I didn't make anything this week, so I was going to post photos of some small doilies and coasters I crocheted a few months ago, but then I found this photo and couldn't stop laughing.  So, I decided to share it with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, the intended subject is the two German Sweet Potato Pies I had just baked.  They aren't made from sweet potatoes, and the recipe isn't German.  They are made from a squash called German Sweet Potatoes.  We grew the squash on our balcony from seeds given to us by MSH's grandparents.  You cannot buy the squash in any grocery store that we've found in Alabama, Virginia, or Maryland, so you either have to grow them or obtain them from some one else who grows them.  Our three plants only produced one squash, so our stock was supplemented by Nannie and Papa and a couple they go to church with.  These pies taste like a custard pie with a slight pumpkin or sweet potato flavor and has the consistency of a sweet potato pie.  MSH can eat a whole pie and still want more.  They're THAT good; they're beyond good; they're SUPERB!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_f8UbgN97I/AAAAAAAAAEU/R9w2FaM4nQs/s1600-h/Memorial+Day+Weekend+001.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5185890923850889138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_f8UbgN97I/AAAAAAAAAEU/R9w2FaM4nQs/s400/Memorial+Day+Weekend+001.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Unfortunately, I hadn't read Pioneer Woman's blog about photography, so I used a flash.  I also wasn't paying attention to how I was framing the photo, so you can also see my kitchen sink and some dirty utensils and my laptop and my toes.  The counter between our kitchen and living room is quite high, so I'm standing on a stool to get this shot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I'm the only one who finds this picture humorous, but now it's up here for all to see.  So, if it makes you chuckle, I'm glad I could bring a little smile to your face. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you want the recipe (You can substitute pumpkin or sweet potatoes, but the flavor won't be quite the same), leave me a comment and I'll send it to you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-5829937048257605455?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/5829937048257605455/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=5829937048257605455' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/5829937048257605455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/5829937048257605455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/04/saturday-no-crafts-pies.html' title='Saturday: No Crafts, Pies'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_f8UbgN97I/AAAAAAAAAEU/R9w2FaM4nQs/s72-c/Memorial+Day+Weekend+001.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-3113264995353450417</id><published>2008-04-04T12:29:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-04T19:43:48.023-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Recipe Review: Shrimp Creole</title><content type='html'>This is one of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;MSH's&lt;/span&gt; all-time favorite dishes. He calls it "That Good Shrimp Stuff" when he requests it for dinner, and he requests it often. I love the spiciness and buttery shrimp mixed with the acidic tomato sauce. It's very hard to show any restraint around something like this. I got the recipe from The Betty Crocker Cookbook: Bridal Edition.There are a million and one (or more) versions of Shrimp Creole out there, but this one works really well. I don't know which version of the cookbook it is; they release a new one every few years, but we got married in 2002, so it was the one that was on the shelves then. Thanks to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;MSH's&lt;/span&gt; Aunt Becky for the book!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caution: Unsolicited Product Endorsement Follows. If you know anyone who is getting married or moving out on their own for the first time or might ever cook anything, this cookbook is the greatest gift you can give. The recipes are good, but the real highlight of the book is all the &lt;em&gt;information&lt;/em&gt; it contains. There are directions on how to cook almost anything in many different ways. There are substitution recommendations and instructions on how to chop, dice, mince, how to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;de&lt;/span&gt;-bone a chicken, how to peel and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;de-vein&lt;/span&gt; shrimp. There are illustrations showing where each cut of beef and pork come from. I could go on and on and on about how much there is in this book, but you just have to check it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now for the recipe--Easy &amp;amp; quick, but every one will think you're a gourmet chef.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 lbs. raw shrimp, in shells *I use the ones that are 41-50 ct. per pound and cut each in half*&lt;br /&gt;1/4 c. butter&lt;br /&gt;3 medium onions, chopped (1 1/2 cups)&lt;br /&gt;2 medium green bell peppers, finely chopped (2 cups)&lt;br /&gt;2 medium stalks celery, finely chopped (1 cup) *I never have celery on hand, so I just leave it out.*&lt;br /&gt;2 cloves garlic, finely chopped&lt;br /&gt;1 cup water&lt;br /&gt;2 tsp chopped fresh parsley *I never have this on hand either, so I use dried or leave it out*&lt;br /&gt;1 1/2 tsp salt *Since I never have celery, I use celery salt.*&lt;br /&gt;1/4 tsp ground red pepper, cayenne&lt;br /&gt;2 bay leaves&lt;br /&gt;1-15 oz can tomato sauce&lt;br /&gt;6 cups hot rice&lt;br /&gt;**I also add white pepper and black pepper (about 1/4 tsp of each), and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;MSH&lt;/span&gt; dashes his liberally with hot sauce.**&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Peel and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;de-vein&lt;/span&gt; shrimp (and cut them into smaller pieces if you want). Cover &amp;amp; refrigerate.&lt;br /&gt;2. Melt butter in saucepan over medium heat. Cook onions, bell pepper, celery, and garlic for about 10 minutes, stirring occasionally, until onions are tender. (I forgot to photograph this step).&lt;br /&gt;3. Stir in remaining ingredients, except shrimp and rice. Heat to boiling; reduce heat to low. Simmer, uncovered 10 minutes.&lt;br /&gt;4. Stir in shrimp. Heat to boiling; reduce heat to medium. Cover and cook 4 to 6 minutes, stirring occasionally, until shrimp are pink and firm. Remove bay leaves. Serve shrimp mixture over rice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not only is the flavor of this dish absolutely out-of-this-world delicious, it's really pretty healthy. To make it even healthier, you can use brown rice, but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;MSH&lt;/span&gt; hates the stuff! Since there are just 2 of us, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;MSH&lt;/span&gt; has no self-control when it comes to this dish, I always make half a recipe. It's quite easy, I just halve the quantity of everything (except the spices) and cook it up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's what it looks like when I make it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_ZZzbgN92I/AAAAAAAAADg/hbLAzFaurks/s1600-h/Shrimp+Creole.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5185430761054795618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_ZZzbgN92I/AAAAAAAAADg/hbLAzFaurks/s400/Shrimp+Creole.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Please disregard the drops of sauce everywhere. I'm a pretty messy cook.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Also, please don't be like me when it comes to your garlic. We love garlic in our house, but somehow we wound up buying some and losing it in the refrigerator, then buying more and forgetting that we lost some until one day, I was digging in the vegetable drawer and found this:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_Z8HbgN93I/AAAAAAAAADo/tk3NMSDHyMg/s1600-h/DSC01283.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5185468488047523698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_Z8HbgN93I/AAAAAAAAADo/tk3NMSDHyMg/s400/DSC01283.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I almost fainted. Then I thought to myself, "Self, could you plant this and grow your own garlic? You need to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Google&lt;/span&gt; that and see." Then I forgot about it, so this is currently living on my kitchen counter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_Z8H7gN94I/AAAAAAAAADw/ynExz_uOdHQ/s1600-h/DSC01284.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5185468496637458306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_Z8H7gN94I/AAAAAAAAADw/ynExz_uOdHQ/s400/DSC01284.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be garlic-neglecting cooks like me.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-3113264995353450417?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/3113264995353450417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=3113264995353450417' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/3113264995353450417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/3113264995353450417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/04/recipe-review-shrimp-creole.html' title='Recipe Review: Shrimp Creole'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_ZZzbgN92I/AAAAAAAAADg/hbLAzFaurks/s72-c/Shrimp+Creole.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-1434021937058552080</id><published>2008-04-03T12:53:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-04T15:21:31.138-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Happy Birthday, Bryson!</title><content type='html'>I had this all ready to go &amp;amp; forgot to publish it on Wednesday. After writing the Memories entry and trading emails with my Aunt Joyce, I just plumb forgot. I'm sorry little man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_YPJbgN91I/AAAAAAAAADY/CcMgEtQtXBM/s1600-h/Bryson+&amp;amp;+Thomas.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5185348675639834450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_YPJbgN91I/AAAAAAAAADY/CcMgEtQtXBM/s400/Bryson+%26+Thomas.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;This little guy who loves trains and trucks and tractors got to go to a Thomas the Train event in Alabama this past weekend. I don't know if I'm allowed to post the above photo, but I did, and if JED Photography asks me to remove it I will. However, if they are smart, they won't ask me to because it's free advertising.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;According to my mother-in-law, his party was wildly successful, requiring a couple of emergency trips to the grocery store for more supplies. Obviously, this little monkey is loved by many.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Happy 2nd birthday, Bryson. We love you little dude!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;From Uncle MSH &amp;amp; Aunt Me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-1434021937058552080?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/1434021937058552080/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=1434021937058552080' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/1434021937058552080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/1434021937058552080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/04/happy-birthday-bryson.html' title='Happy Birthday, Bryson!'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_YPJbgN91I/AAAAAAAAADY/CcMgEtQtXBM/s72-c/Bryson+%26+Thomas.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-5516162383052211009</id><published>2008-04-02T12:33:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-02T14:21:05.671-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='childhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><title type='text'>Memories</title><content type='html'>I remember my childhood as a happy time with all the usual sorts of things.  Mostly, I remember moments; not necessarily profound or important moments, but just random occurrences. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember coloring in the living room on a Saturday afternoon with the brown, wooden shades up and the windows open while Daddy listened to one football game on the radio and watched another on the television.  I remember the tone and inflection and quality of Jim &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Fyffe's&lt;/span&gt; voice coming from the big speakers and the smells of an early fall afternoon and Lemon Pledge and Bold laundry detergent.  I remember how the warm breeze felt.  I don't remember how many times this happened or what pictures I colored or who won the games or even who was playing (I know now that if Jim &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Fyffe&lt;/span&gt; was announcing that Auburn was playing, but I didn't know that then). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember, I don't know how I remember this, but I remember being three and laying my head on Mama's very pregnant tummy while she read a book to me and Jr(my younger brother, the middle child).  She was pregnant with the youngest of us, my baby brother (BB).  I remember the firmness of her tummy and the cool, silky fabric of her nightgown.  I think I remember the nightgown being blue.  I remember the brown and cream floral pattern with tiny blue flowers and large flowers that were different shades of brown and, maybe, birds, and the soft velour-like &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;upholstery&lt;/span&gt; of the couch in the living room.  I don't remember why we weren't in the den where we normally gathered as a family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember going to my Aunt Ola's house and being torn between playing with the boys and watching her cross-stitch or knit.  I remember that her house was always so tidy, and it smelled different than our house, like Surf detergent, and they always had Doritos.  I remember all the beautiful pictures she had made and thinking she was so tall.  She wasn't tall, maybe an inch or so taller than my mom, but she left that impression on me.  I remember secretly wanting to be one of her students because I was just so sure that she made her classes interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember my Aunt Dot and her family coming to visit from Texas.  It was the first time I remember meeting my youngest cousin.  I remember him sitting on the kitchen table that my grandfather made.  We always had a table cloth on it, and it was painted black, and he was sitting there next to the windows with the yellow curtains.  I remember being so impressed that he was so little and could tell us his name and that he lived in "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Tywer&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Tekthath&lt;/span&gt;".  I remember being consumed by curiosity about wherever she lived because she lived in places I had no direct knowledge of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember playing with all of my Aunt Carol's bracelets, rings, and necklaces and being fascinated by the jewelry she wore.  I remember her painting my nails with a nail polish pen, the purple carpet and furry table covers in her bedroom and spending the night, sleeping in her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;water bed&lt;/span&gt;, and her Tupperware collection.  I remember how grown-up she always made me feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember my Aunt Joyce calling me her "sweet girl".  I remember petting her cat, Sheba, who had the prettiest long white fur.  I remember the scent of her perfume and that I could smell it on my clothes long after she'd hugged and kissed me.  I loved that smell.  I remember the red deck in her backyard and the deep hot tub that was sunken into it and going to church, waiting on a warm Sunday morning on the sidewalk in front of our house, feeling so special for getting to go with her, and the chicken casserole with pimientos she made.  I'd never known what pimientos were before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember being jealous when of my brothers when they had the chicken pox.  It was warm, Spring or early Fall, and I came home from school to find them sitting in the floor of the kitchen, leaning against the refrigerator, eating/drinking Mama's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Icee's&lt;/span&gt;.  They were really just orange juice and ice blended together in the blender, but they were one of our favorite treats along with "peanut butter balls" which were globs of peanut butter on long-handled teaspoons dipped in sugar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could go on forever with these memories of small moments and feelings, but there are too many to list.  I remember so many wonderful little things and very few bad things because the good in my life has always overwhelmed the tiny amount of bad.  I could devote an entire blog to memories of my childhood and post an entry every day for a hundred years and still have more to share.  I've smiled the entire time I've been typing this post. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know why my grandparents and other aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, etc. didn't make it in this post today, but I just typed as I think, in random order.  I'll post another memories entry soon &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; this one doesn't have all the things in it that I want to share, and because I've enjoyed today's post so much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-5516162383052211009?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/5516162383052211009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=5516162383052211009' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/5516162383052211009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/5516162383052211009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/04/memories.html' title='Memories'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-6867366260677263149</id><published>2008-04-01T08:54:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-02T09:15:51.394-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Flowers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='spring'/><title type='text'>The Long Awaited Tale of the Cherry Blossom Festival</title><content type='html'>Okay, so maybe you haven't waited that long, but I feel badly that I didn't get it done before. So, here it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The trees and the views and the weather were beautiful, chilly, but beautiful. MSH and I couldn't resist snapping a few of the requisite Cherry Blossoms and Monuments photos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Washington Monument is so iconic, so DC. We must have taken a dozen pictures of it throughout the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_Ixw7gN9yI/AAAAAAAAADA/O9IrYtg4UHc/s1600-h/DSC01092.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5184260837733168930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_Ixw7gN9yI/AAAAAAAAADA/O9IrYtg4UHc/s400/DSC01092.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; The Jefferson Memorial is usually the least crowded; it sits by itself, off the Mall, usually neglected. It's one of our favorites, and it was shown a fair amount of attention on Saturday. Many of the activities began, ended, or passed through this monument due to it's location in relation to the Cherry Trees.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_IxxbgN9zI/AAAAAAAAADI/AIcj4Xi82wI/s1600-h/DSC01272.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5184260846323103538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_IxxbgN9zI/AAAAAAAAADI/AIcj4Xi82wI/s400/DSC01272.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We arrived in DC and parked in our usual lot and began our day-long walk, around the Jefferson, and the Tidal Basin, through the streets and twice across the mall. By the time we made it to the Smithsonian Castle, we'd been walking for about 2 hours, taken over 50 pictures, met 3 Auburn graduates (they were all together along with a Birmingham Southern graduate), and gotten one "War Eagle". &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;We were starving, and the entire place was packed. All the tables were occupied, along with all the benches and most of the floor; the line for the cafe was LONG. So we strategized, MSH would find us a place to sit, and I would get my lunch, then come back and maintain our position while he procured his own nourishment. He was able to get us a table before I returned from the cafe, so while he went through the line, I started my lunch. After a few minutes an obviously tired older gentleman came up and asked if he could sit at our table and eat. I told him that he was more than welcome to sit in the third chair at our table. Mr. Gene A. turned out to be a fascinating individual. Originally from Mississippi, he had lived in several states in the Southern and Eastern US. He is a retired Sociology professor who lives most of the year with his wife in Pennsylvania, but spends the colder months in Falls Church in an apartment near his children's homes. He was in DC for the day to go to the museums and was by himself. We spent almost two hours talking about many different subjects ranging from the South to the advances of medicine and science to politics and economics. It was such a great treat to have the chance to meet such and interesting and kind person who had so much to share with us.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Also, during lunch, MSH got another "War Eagle." Next, we were off to the Natural History Museum. I believe MSH could devote an entire week to this building. We made our way through some of the animal exhibits and came to the Butterfly Exhibition. We looked around and decided it was worth the ticket price and got tickets to return at 5. We spent the next hour or so plucking our way through the meteorite and minerals exhibits and the display of phenomenal nature photography, taking almost 100 more pictures. Before we knew it, it was time to see the butterflies. The enclosure is kept at 86 degrees with about 80% humidity, so it was kind of like being at home in late April. And being in the middle of over 200 butterflies floating around, landing on beautiful flowers, snacking on fruit, made me feel like I was in the middle of a childhood dream. It was great fun to watch them land on people and to try to take as many close-up shots as I could. Despite my past as a tomboy, I've always had an affinity for butterflies.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Once we had seen and photographed as many butterflies as we could, we stopped by one of the gift shops to replace the vase we gave to Nannie. We wound up with a bowl instead of another vase, and I'm still trying to figure out how that happened. But, I like the bowl more, I think. The light passes through the bowl, unlike the vase, so that's cool. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_KNULgN90I/AAAAAAAAADQ/h7b-XKM00fk/s1600-h/Cherry+Blossom+Festival,+Smithsonian+211.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5184361498881685314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_KNULgN90I/AAAAAAAAADQ/h7b-XKM00fk/s400/Cherry+Blossom+Festival,+Smithsonian+211.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Then, we headed back to the Castle to see what else we could explore while we waited for 8 pm to roll around. To our dismay, all the other museums closed at 5:30. The Natural History Museum was open late that day, until 7:30. So we just relaxed in the garden for a little while before the Lantern Walk that I never got to do. See, we decided to walk back to the car and put the bowl away before the two hour tour, but before we got there, we passed the tent where we would have to go to prepare for the walk. I had the bright idea, after having seen people turned away from the Butterfly Exhibit due to the Sold-Out status of the tickets, to ask if we needed to sign up in advance for the Lantern Walk. I mean, I didn't think we would need to, there had been nothing on the website or events schedule about signing up. Well, disappointment still stings at 30; they were all booked for the walk that night. MSH said that it was just as well, because he knew that neither of us were really up for walking another two hours that day. I now realize that I really only wanted the pictures, so maybe we'll just go down with a lantern of our own one night (very, very soon) and take a few pictures. We don't really need a guided tour for that. Plus, I still want to go to that park near our offices, but with all the rain, they are saying that the likelihood that the blooms will survive much longer is slim.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So that was our Cherry Blossom Festival experience, beautiful, but chilly with lots of gorgeousness to behold, a little short-lived disappointment, and tiring. But, all total, MSH got 5 "War Eagles", counting the first one from the group of 3 graduates as just one. I think we got 3 on the way to the car at the end of the day.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Here is the other close-up I told you about yesterday. I still can't decide which one I like better.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_IxwLgN9xI/AAAAAAAAAC4/BsDGo856oss/s1600-h/DSC01104.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5184260824848267026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_IxwLgN9xI/AAAAAAAAAC4/BsDGo856oss/s400/DSC01104.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It's still focusing on a small bunch of blossoms, but the background has more sky. I'm thinking, now that I've been looking at them more, that I'll make prints of 6 different close-ups and mount them on dark brown or black mats and display them on a wall together in matching frames. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;To see more photos from our day, visit &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/pursefullofcurlers/sets/72157604288020067/"&gt;my flickr.com page&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-6867366260677263149?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/6867366260677263149/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=6867366260677263149' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/6867366260677263149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/6867366260677263149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/04/long-awaited-tale-of-cherry-blossom.html' title='The Long Awaited Tale of the Cherry Blossom Festival'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_Ixw7gN9yI/AAAAAAAAADA/O9IrYtg4UHc/s72-c/DSC01092.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-2441443986132433276</id><published>2008-03-31T09:16:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-31T09:27:40.644-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Terrible, and I Apologize</title><content type='html'>I know, I know, I promised a post on Sunday about the Cherry Blossom festival. Well, it looks like it's going to be tomorrow before I can get one up. We were just terribly busy and tired yesterday, and tonight my father-in-law is coming into town. We're having dinner with him, and I'm very busy at work. For now, I'll leave you with at least one photo. Tomorrow I'll post more, including one to compare this one to. I am having a tough time deciding which one I like better, so I'll let you give me some input. I may decide to print one of each, then mat and frame them and hang them next to each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_DlQbgN9wI/AAAAAAAAACw/HoDJewprboo/s1600-h/DSC01084.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183895241526998786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_DlQbgN9wI/AAAAAAAAACw/HoDJewprboo/s400/DSC01084.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this photo, I chose to focus on a few blossoms with a background of a tree full of blossoms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MSH enjoyed the festival, too. On the way home, he remarked that going to the festival was not high on his list of things to do before he died, but at least he could say that he had done it. Oh, and we met the most adorable octogenarian and shared our table with him at lunch, but more on him tomorrow, too. I HAVE TO GET TO WORK!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-2441443986132433276?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/2441443986132433276/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=2441443986132433276' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/2441443986132433276'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/2441443986132433276'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/03/im-terrible-and-i-apologize.html' title='I&apos;m Terrible, and I Apologize'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R_DlQbgN9wI/AAAAAAAAACw/HoDJewprboo/s72-c/DSC01084.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-3338981754774833483</id><published>2008-03-29T07:15:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-29T09:02:48.378-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Crafts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Crochet'/><title type='text'>Saturday Crafts: Cell Phone Pouch</title><content type='html'>I have a friend who is married to a man who works with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;MSH&lt;/span&gt;. Her husband &amp;amp; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;MSH&lt;/span&gt; share a mutual interest in football, and she and I share a mutual disinterest in the sport. So, when the two men wanted to hang out on Sundays, we decided to crochet together. Now, she only remembered the tiniest bit of the crochet lesson her grandmother had given her decades ago, so I taught her everything I know. Now, she is faster than I am!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I mentioned last week, we are going to their house next weekend, so I made her a doily. She had also mentioned that she could never find her cell phone in her purse and needed a cell phone pouch, so I offered to make her one. Here is the pattern: &lt;a href="http://hometown.aol.com/crochetalong/cellpouch.html"&gt;Cell Phone Pouch&lt;/a&gt;, and here is the finished product:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R-48Y7gN9vI/AAAAAAAAACo/GjI62vY18fM/s1600-h/crochet+cell+phone+pouch+027.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183146620137371378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R-48Y7gN9vI/AAAAAAAAACo/GjI62vY18fM/s400/crochet+cell+phone+pouch+027.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I changed the pattern slightly making the flap a little smaller.  Also, instead of making the side gussets as detailed in the pattern, I crocheted around the main body and flap once, the added two extra rows to the sides of the body and, with right sides together, sewed the sides together with a row of single crochet stitches.  Next, I made the strap longer so she can wear it over her shoulder.  Hopefully, she will get good use out of it.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;We're headed out to the Cherry Blossom Festival today, so photos will be forthcoming.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;'Til then,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-3338981754774833483?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/3338981754774833483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=3338981754774833483' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/3338981754774833483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/3338981754774833483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/03/saturday-crafts-cell-phone-pouch.html' title='Saturday Crafts: Cell Phone Pouch'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R-48Y7gN9vI/AAAAAAAAACo/GjI62vY18fM/s72-c/crochet+cell+phone+pouch+027.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-4959055452110012666</id><published>2008-03-28T09:54:00.009-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-04T15:24:29.701-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='photos'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Recipe Review: Crab Quesadillas</title><content type='html'>A new favorite for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;MSH&lt;/span&gt; and me is this &lt;a href="http://www.eatingwell.com/recipes/crab_quesadilla.html"&gt;Crab &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Quesadilla&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/a&gt;recipe with a few of our substitutions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, we don't really like sweet meats, and crab meat is sweet enough on its own, so instead of orange zest and OJ, I used lime juice and no zest. There's this really good, fast Mexican this Restaurant &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;across&lt;/span&gt; the street called &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Baja&lt;/span&gt; Fresh, and they use lots of lime in their dishes, so that's where I got the idea. Also, due to the sweet factor, we prefer not to use red bell peppers, so I used green instead. The first time I made this I did use scallions, but since we were out this time, I used chives. There wasn't a huge difference.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's what it looks like when I make it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R-0FhLgN9uI/AAAAAAAAACg/88lXDdNS-gA/s1600-h/crab+quesadillas.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182804813755053794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R-0FhLgN9uI/AAAAAAAAACg/88lXDdNS-gA/s400/crab+quesadillas.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is absolutely the best homemade Mexican dish I've ever made. I've made tacos and burritos and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;quesadillas&lt;/span&gt; from a variety of recipes and kits, but none were ever as fresh and flavorful as this. Topped with his favorite salsa and served with a simple mixed green salad, this meal really makes &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;MSH&lt;/span&gt; happy. I love the cream cheese in this recipe, but I love cream cheese in just about everything. Here it makes the filling &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;irresistibly&lt;/span&gt; creamy. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Until I made this, I didn't realize how much I loved the fresh bite and flavor of cilantro. My new love for this spice has spurred my desire for &lt;u&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.williams-sonoma.com/products/sku1229160/index.cfm?pkey=cctlspt&amp;amp;ckey=ctlspt"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/u&gt;. I also accidentally discovered that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;MSH&lt;/span&gt; loves this double-stuffed when I burned one side of each of the 2&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;nd&lt;/span&gt; batch of them while taking the photos for this post.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So, if you like seafood and cilantro, this is the recipe for you. And unlike some of the other recipes I love, this one is quick and easy.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-4959055452110012666?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/4959055452110012666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=4959055452110012666' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/4959055452110012666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/4959055452110012666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/03/recipe-review-crab-quesadillas.html' title='Recipe Review: Crab Quesadillas'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R-0FhLgN9uI/AAAAAAAAACg/88lXDdNS-gA/s72-c/crab+quesadillas.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-1392734413818570031</id><published>2008-03-27T11:43:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-27T12:41:55.079-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='weather'/><title type='text'>Ugh</title><content type='html'>I'm just having a day.  You know, one of &lt;strong&gt;THOSE&lt;/strong&gt; days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I forgot to turn on my alarm last night, so I didn't get out of bed until 5:50, so I didn't have time to do my hair (don't worry, I still have curlers in at least one purse).  It's rainy, but warmer, but the rain always drains my energy.  I just feel like I need a nap.  I dribbled blackberry jelly on my best white T-shirt (it's Ann Taylor; and it's the only decent one I own), so I had to button the blouse I have on to cover it.  Of course, I did this after I got to work, so there's no chance of changing it, and when I get hot, as I inevitably do in the afternoons, I will just have to suffer in my 3/4 sleeve blouse and t-shirt.  The blouse cannot be worn alone because all the major retailers have stopped making shirts that have a button above boob level.  I tried getting it out with water, then a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Clorox&lt;/span&gt; wipe, then an alcohol prep pad, then kicked myself for not bringing that Clorox Bleach Pen to work, then kicked myself again for not owning any Shout! Wipes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think my bad day actually began last night when I burned one side of 2 Crab &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Quesadillas&lt;/span&gt; because I was too busy trying to take photos of the first 2 I finished for the blog I'm posting tomorrow, so the whole place stank like burned tortilla on top of the lovely aroma of crab meat.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;MSH&lt;/span&gt; asked me what, in the name of all that is holy, possessed me to take photos of FOOD, for goodness sake.  Luckily, since only one side of each &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;quesadilla&lt;/span&gt; was burned, I was able to salvage them by removing the burned tortilla and sandwiching the 2 unburned sides together, making a double-stuffed &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;quesadilla&lt;/span&gt; that kept &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;MSH&lt;/span&gt; quiet for a little while.  I wasn't even going to post a blog, but now that I've started typing, I feel a little better.  Maybe it's catharsis, maybe it's the thinking clearing out the cobwebs, maybe it's my coffee kicking in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm off tomorrow, so I hope to get all my housework done so that we can go to the Cherry Blossom Festival on Saturday (not that having a messy house or laundry to do has ever stopped us from doing something).  This weekend is supposed to be chilly, but also peak bloom days.  I've also been told that we need to visit &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Kenwood&lt;/span&gt; Park in Bethesda before the trees stop blooming, where the you can walk blossom-canopied paths bordered with streams.  The cherry trees only blossom for about 2 weeks, so I hope to get this done.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;MSH&lt;/span&gt; has also been wanting to go back to the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History so we can spend more time on the exhibits there.  I want to go back so that we can replace my vase that we owned for about 20 minutes before "we" decided that it would be the perfect birthday gift for his grandmother. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, tomorrow I'll get the recipe review up.  I've almost finished the cell phone pouch, so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;that'll&lt;/span&gt; be up Saturday--maybe.  And, if we make it to the Festival, I'll post that on Sunday.  I love making lists!  And, I do feel better--like I accomplished something today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-1392734413818570031?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/1392734413818570031/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=1392734413818570031' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/1392734413818570031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/1392734413818570031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/03/ugh.html' title='Ugh'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-6851094326801503439</id><published>2008-03-26T11:54:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-26T15:30:16.824-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><title type='text'>New Specs</title><content type='html'>It's like some one went through my entire world and erased all those colors that bled outside the lines and sharpened all the edges and put the ground back where it was supposed to be. And, I got rid of the black rectangles that framed everything I've seen for the last few years, except for the few excrutiating months I tried contacts, but that's another story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In short: I got my new glasses yesterday.&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R-p_hbgN9qI/AAAAAAAAACA/M0UQgO5Vby4/s1600-h/glasses.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182094533538477730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R-p_hbgN9qI/AAAAAAAAACA/M0UQgO5Vby4/s400/glasses.jpg" 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/7380464276250451888-6851094326801503439?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/6851094326801503439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=6851094326801503439' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/6851094326801503439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/6851094326801503439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/03/new-specs.html' title='New Specs'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R-p_hbgN9qI/AAAAAAAAACA/M0UQgO5Vby4/s72-c/glasses.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-1085106398923482840</id><published>2008-03-25T13:29:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-26T07:44:18.146-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>A Dinner Disaster</title><content type='html'>As I've mentioned, I love to cook. I believe that I'm pretty good at it and quickly becoming a &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Foodie"&gt;foodie&lt;/a&gt; (or maybe I'm becoming a &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gourmet"&gt;gourmet&lt;/a&gt;). Last night, however, my performance in the kitchen was less than stellar, less than lackluster even, and I'm quite upset about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made &lt;a href="http://www.eatingwell.com/recipes/chicken_snap_pea_herb.html"&gt;Chicken with Sugar Snap Peas &amp;amp; Spring Herbs&lt;/a&gt; and roasted baby red potatoes with crushed rosemary. All of it was &lt;strong&gt;AWFUL&lt;/strong&gt;. It was so bad, I almost cried. MSH was reluctant for me to make the chicken entree, believing, correctly, that the combination of the sauce, peas, and artichokes would not be good. The simple sauteed chicken and sauce were fine, but adding the peas and artichokes was not a good idea at all. The flavors did not compliment each other in the slightest nor did the textures harmonize.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To compound the problem, I did not roast the potatoes long enough, so they were crunchy. The flavor of the potato with olive oil and crushed rosemary was wonderful, and my entire home smelled so good, but the crunch of raw potato was impossible to ignore. MSH tried to make me feel better by complimenting my presentation and technique, and we did eat it. However, neither of us enjoyed it. I'm so ashamed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luckily, there was a little (OK, not so little, more like 1/4) of the Peach Crisp with Maple Cream Sauce left from Sunday for dessert to serve as my redemption for the evening. Even after finishing the dessert, I have left over Maple Cream Sauce. I could serve it over ice cream or put it in my coffee or eat it like dessert soup or pour it over pancakes or add it to oatmeal--I could keep going, but I'm getting a little light-headed. Maybe I should just pour it down the drain so I don't wind up weighing 500 pounds. Dear God, please lead me not into temptation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll post another, hopefully positive, recipe review on Friday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-1085106398923482840?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/1085106398923482840/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=1085106398923482840' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/1085106398923482840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/1085106398923482840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/03/dinner-disaster.html' title='A Dinner Disaster'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-7928790058036931698</id><published>2008-03-24T13:34:00.018-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-25T08:25:48.806-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='photos'/><title type='text'>They Know I Exist</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#404080;"&gt;We live pretty far from our family, so we miss them a lot. We have a niece and two nephews who were born after we moved away; therefore we have only seen them a handful of times. I often feel like they don't know I exist, like some fabled aunt they've only seen in photos or heard their parents and grandparents talk about. This is the main reason I cry in the greeting card aisle at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Wal&lt;/span&gt;-Mart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, I talked to my mother, and she relayed two tiny, seemingly insignificant events that made my heart sing. I would never have imagined how good something so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;miniscule&lt;/span&gt; would make me feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Monday, the 17&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;, was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Ivey's&lt;/span&gt; 3rd birthday, so I mailed her a gift and a card. She received it on the Friday before and called to thank me. Actually, my brother Chip called, but he had given her the phone before I picked up. We talked for a minute, well, as much as you can talk to a 3 year old on the phone, before my brother and older niece took over. Well, she has been asking my parents about me for the last 2 weekends. On Sunday, the 16&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;, she asked my dad if I was at home when they came to visit her; then, yesterday, when they all went to my parents, she asked where I was. So, not only does she know I exist, she also knows to associate me with my parents. Of course, she thinks that I live with my parents because that's where she has seen me most, but still, she knows that I exist. Mom says that she knows who &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;MSH&lt;/span&gt; and I are in photos as well. She will point to our photo and say our names.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here she is with a blue monkey, what a cutie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R-f9RLgN9mI/AAAAAAAAABg/im6EIfYpCIA/s1600-h/2357977878_3f28aaef04.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181388367900571234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R-f9RLgN9mI/AAAAAAAAABg/im6EIfYpCIA/s400/2357977878_3f28aaef04.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#404080;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also have a nephew who will be 2 next month. Last week I called my other brother Spence and left a message on their answering machine. For what ever reason, they haven't erased it, and while my mother was watching my nephew Richard this weekend, he kept playing the message and saying "Aunt &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Lawa&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Lawa&lt;/span&gt;", his version of my name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's Richard at the beach; he's so cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R-f9bLgN9nI/AAAAAAAAABo/-Aa4DFVUvKA/s1600-h/Richard.bmp"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181388539699263090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R-f9bLgN9nI/AAAAAAAAABo/-Aa4DFVUvKA/s400/Richard.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#404080;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know this photo is a year old, but it's one of my favorites!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fortunately, one of our nieces, Betsy Kate, was born before we left. Due to the high amount of spoiling I subjected her to, she has not forgotten me. Whenever we see them she runs to me and hugs me and wants to spend all her time with me (It makes me feel great just thinking about it). On the phone, however, she would rather talk to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;MSH&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;MSH&lt;/span&gt; is her jungle gym and her constant tormentor; she is at that age where she loves to be "gotten". She asked me not to long ago why we lived in Virginia, and said "I don't know why y'all don't just move back to Alabama." I wonder where she heard that one. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#404080;"&gt;She started Kindergarten this year, how fast they grow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R-f-VrgN9oI/AAAAAAAAABw/Llebt0bKuh0/s1600-h/Betsy+school.bmp"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#404080;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181389544721610370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R-f-VrgN9oI/AAAAAAAAABw/Llebt0bKuh0/s400/Betsy+school.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#404080;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not to be left out, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;MSH's&lt;/span&gt; brother also welcomed a new addition in April of 2006. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Bryson&lt;/span&gt; will be two years old four days before Richard. He's a cute little guy who loves to act like a monkey, read books, mash buttons on the remote, and talk on the phone. His &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;GiGi&lt;/span&gt; makes sure that he knows us by showing him our picture on her refrigerator and repeating our names over and over. He also recognizes &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;MSH's&lt;/span&gt; car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told you he loves to talk on the phone, silly monkey:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R-gBl7gN9pI/AAAAAAAAAB4/A53QOv7SWlM/s1600-h/Bryson+on+the+phone.JPG"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181393122429367954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R-gBl7gN9pI/AAAAAAAAAB4/A53QOv7SWlM/s400/Bryson+on+the+phone.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#404080;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are my babies, and I love and miss them all. They are the most precious nieces and nephews I could hope for, and I hope for a few more, plus a cousin or two for them from me and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;MSH&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#404080;"&gt;By the way, the trip to West Virginia was great. We enjoyed great food and Balderdash! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;MSH's&lt;/span&gt; Spinach dip and the Peach Crisp with Maple Cream Sauce were hits. Now I have to make another Peach Crisp so I don't wind up drinking the left over Maple Cream Sauce. Lord, give me strength.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-7928790058036931698?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/7928790058036931698/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=7928790058036931698' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/7928790058036931698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/7928790058036931698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/03/they-know-i-exist.html' title='They Know I Exist'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R-f9RLgN9mI/AAAAAAAAABg/im6EIfYpCIA/s72-c/2357977878_3f28aaef04.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-5506563114726764183</id><published>2008-03-23T21:36:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-24T09:37:54.946-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Easter</title><content type='html'>Just time for a few words before we go to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Easter!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll tell you all about it tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Me&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-5506563114726764183?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/5506563114726764183/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=5506563114726764183' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/5506563114726764183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/5506563114726764183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/03/happy-easter.html' title='Happy Easter'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-6545948955477640385</id><published>2008-03-22T14:57:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-24T16:07:08.269-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Crafts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Crochet'/><title type='text'>Saturday Crafts:  Pineapple Doily</title><content type='html'>Now you know I love to cook, but I have other interests as well. I also love to crochet. I just finished my most recent project, a pineaple doily. We're going to visit some friends in a couple of weeks, and I plan to give this to our hostess as a hostess gift. Before I send the doily to a new home, she wanted to see some of my place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the doily sitting in MSH's recliner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R-XBI7gN9iI/AAAAAAAAABA/4NV3wNppHq8/s1600-h/Doily+in+the+Recliner.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180759305515562530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R-XBI7gN9iI/AAAAAAAAABA/4NV3wNppHq8/s400/Doily+in+the+Recliner.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;MSH woke up from his nap, hungry for lunch, so I went to prepare something for him. The doily decided to accompany me to the kitchen. Here you can see her watching me cook from our strangely purple counter (what made the people who built our home think this was a good idea?).&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R-XDVrgN9jI/AAAAAAAAABI/nfRWVI0DL_0/s1600-h/Doily+in+the+Kitchen.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180761723582150194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R-XDVrgN9jI/AAAAAAAAABI/nfRWVI0DL_0/s400/Doily+in+the+Kitchen.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, she was afraid of being splattered or hit by flying utensils, so she went to go sit on the couch.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R-XHJrgN9kI/AAAAAAAAABQ/HmEe0orNGgg/s1600-h/Doily+on+the+Couch.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180765915470231106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R-XHJrgN9kI/AAAAAAAAABQ/HmEe0orNGgg/s400/Doily+on+the+Couch.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Now she's packed lovingly in tissue paper in a nice box, ready to move on. I'll miss you little doily, but luckily MSH convinced me several months ago to keep your much larger sister for the coffee table. The pattern for this doily came from a book called &lt;u&gt;Crocheting Tablecloths and Placemats&lt;/u&gt; edited by Florence Weinstein that my mother gave me a while back. It was published in the 70s, but the patterns are from the 40s. I made the larger version of the pineapple doily as my first fine thread crochet project. I was so eager to start, that I couldn't wait until I went to the store and bought the appropriate sized hook and thread; the pattern calls for a size 12 hook and 50 thread, but all I had was a 00 hook and 10 thread. So, the 17" doily I intended to make, turned out to be about 4 feet in diameter. Oops. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R-eTt7gN9lI/AAAAAAAAABY/VcGapF1FGUY/s1600-h/2353833950_9ff481b038_b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181272313589266002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R-eTt7gN9lI/AAAAAAAAABY/VcGapF1FGUY/s400/2353833950_9ff481b038_b.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Please disregard the shoe under the table. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I almost gave it away because a lady I worked with mentioned that she would like to have something like it for her foyer table, but MSH said that we should keep it for the coffee table. So, that's where it lives. I plan to go back and make the whole set for us to use on the kitchen table, but since we don't have a kitchen or dining room table right now, this project is a little further down on my list. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;Currently on my list:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Cell Phone pouch for the same friend I made the doily for&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Cloth grocery bags&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Cloth Napkins&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Embroidered pillow cases for my mother&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Finish the quilt I started 4 years ago--all I have left is to quilt the bottom and attach it to the already complete topper&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Teach my self to knit so I can make the &lt;a href="http://cache.lionbrand.com/patterns/70142A.html?noImages=0"&gt;Glowing Colors Afghan &lt;/a&gt;from lionbrand.com. I have all the yarn and needles, but I just can't quite figure the knitting out. I keep trying to crochet when I should be knitting and purling and casting on and doing whatever else it is you're supposed to do with those chopstick looking things! Every time I start trying to learn, I can't stop crocheting, and I start craving Moo Goo Gai Pan.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Pineapple Doily Set&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Teach myself to smock so I can make dresses for my nieces&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Plus I have various repair projects also need my attention, but those just make me want to hide under the covers and suck my finger again.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Next week: The Cell Phone Pouch&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Tomorrow we're visiting friends in West Virginia and I'm making the &lt;a href="http://thepioneerwomancooks.com/2007/07/peach_crisp_wit.html"&gt;Peach Crisp with Maple Cream Sauce. Brace Yourself, People! &lt;/a&gt;from Pioneer Woman Cooks!, so if I don't get a blog in I want to wish you all (even if it's just the 3 readers I know about) Happy Easter.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-6545948955477640385?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/6545948955477640385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=6545948955477640385' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/6545948955477640385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/6545948955477640385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/03/saturday-crafts-pineapple-doily.html' title='Saturday Crafts:  Pineapple Doily'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R-XBI7gN9iI/AAAAAAAAABA/4NV3wNppHq8/s72-c/Doily+in+the+Recliner.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-6362177798291415776</id><published>2008-03-21T11:56:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-21T15:43:59.631-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Recipe Review: Chicken with Leeks &amp; Shiitakes</title><content type='html'>MSH and I are trying to eat more healthily, so I've been trying out new recipes, mostly from &lt;a href="http://www.eatingwell.com/"&gt;eatingwell.com&lt;/a&gt;.  I've decided that as I try new recipes, I'll publish a review on Fridays on my blog because it's my blog, and I can do what I want. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple of weeks ago, I made &lt;a href="http://www.eatingwell.com/recipes/chicken_thighs_leeks_Shiitakes.html"&gt;Chicken with Leeks &amp;amp; Shiitakes&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The actual recipe is called Chicken &lt;em&gt;Thighs&lt;/em&gt; with Leeks &amp;amp; Shiitakes, but I always buy chicken breasts, so I used them instead.  Also, because I'm too lazy to climb up the step ladder to get the all-purpose flour, so I used whole wheat flour, which I keep on a lower shelf and can get down by pulling the container toward me with a small saw we keep hanging on the wall in the laundry room (that's a different post for another day).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really enjoyed this dish; MSH thought it was "okay".  But, if it's not fried or doesn't contain bacon or bacon derivatives or massive quantities of butter, the best I get from the man is "Okay".  I also discovered while making this dish that I really enjoy drinking Pinot Grigio.  I'm usually not a white wine fan, preferring to stick with sweeter wines or mixed cocktails, but something about this wine, mmmmm.  But, back to the dish, the flavor of the wine with the earthy mushrooms and nice thick sauce was perfect with the ever so slightly breaded, tender chicken.  I think the whole wheat flour also added a slightly nutty flavor and a little extra crispiness.  Despite the fact that I don't normally keep leeks and shiitakes on hand, this one just might become one of my regular dishes.  I served it with wild rice and a simple mixed green salad with a nice vinaigrette dressing and, of course, a glass of Pinot Grigio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a side dish earlier this week, I made &lt;a href="http://www.eatingwell.com/recipes/creamy_green_bean.html"&gt;Creamy Green Beans&lt;/a&gt;.  This was terrible.  I think I was expecting a flavor similar to cream of mushroom soup, like green bean casserole, but this really tasted like mayonnaise and mustard on green beans.  Also, the microwave rice cooker/vegetable steamer I have probably isn't the best tool to use for fresh green beans.  They shriveled and had little blackened portions on them.  It was just yuck.  MSH fell asleep with a migraine before I could subject him to this concoction, so his opinion on this one will not be heard.  I will NEVER make this again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what I expect you to do with my opinions, but I've shared them with you to do as you please.  One day, maybe I'll take some photos of the dishes so you can see how they turn out!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-6362177798291415776?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/6362177798291415776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=6362177798291415776' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/6362177798291415776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/6362177798291415776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/03/recipe-review-chicken-with-leeks.html' title='Recipe Review: Chicken with Leeks &amp; Shiitakes'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-5501718668548642792</id><published>2008-03-20T12:01:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-21T07:22:12.760-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='spring'/><title type='text'>Hope Springs or Spring Hopes</title><content type='html'>It is officially spring! And it's really spring and not meteorological spring, which I had never even heard of until last year. I think people make this stuff up to see if anyone will notice. But, I digress. It's spring!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I absolutely loathe winter and cold weather. Snow is a four-letter-word in our home. Growing up, we would hope for snow, pray for snow, perform snow dances in our pajamas while my youngest brother stood on his head eating peanut butter and reciting the alphabet backwards. But in Alabama, snow was a novelty, and it was pretty for a day, then gone. Here, it's an inconvenience, a hazard, an eyesore. Here, it doesn't melt away after a day or two, it lingers, piled up on the sides of the roads, dirty and dangerous. Here, it doesn't automatically mean that you have a day off work or school. Here, it causes our already lamentable commute to stretch into a 3 hour ordeal wrought with worries of sliding off the road or of developing the NEED TO PEE without the hope of a bathroom nearby. Here, it fills valuable parking spaces for weeks, teasing you at Wal-Mart, mocking you at home, laughing at you as you try to find a space at the grocery store. During our first winter in Virginia, My Sweet Husband (MSH) had to melt an entire 7-foot high mound of the stuff that had been inconsiderately scooped into our parking space by carrying down trashcan after trashcan filled with warm water using only one arm. Our rental office callously dismissed his request that the mound be removed from our only allotted parking space saying that the snow removal company had to put it somewhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, that's all behind us now. I'll never have to worry that the car is frozen shut or wonder if I have enough layers on to survive. I'll never have to wear another scarf or don another coat or lament over another hairstyle destroyed by a hat. Spring brings out the eternal optimist in me. MSH and I can open all the windows and feel the lovely breeze flow through our home; I can tolerate being outside for extended periods. I'm even considering buying a cart so that I can walk to the grocery store. I just want to be outside. It's still a little too chilly for all of that right now, but I can feel the warmer weather coming; I can smell it in the air. The really cold days are occurring less frequently. I know that winter will come again, but right now, it seems that it will be spring forever. I can't wait to see the flowers bloom and everything turn green. The Cherry Blossom Festival is right around the corner, and I am determined to go this year and take pictures. I've even painted my nails a lovely melon color in honor of spring, and I would show you, but I can't hold the camera still enough with one hand to take a picture of my other hand. I tried and ended up with blurry messes on the camera that I had to delete before MSH saw them and learned what kind of woman he really married.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's spring, and the world is beginning to right itself, and my office was filled with sunshine all day today. It's spring, and I'm thinking about what vegetables we'll plant and what foods we'll grill. It's spring, and I'm shaking off the winter and redecorating our home in my mind and planning a vacation. It's spring!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-5501718668548642792?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/5501718668548642792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=5501718668548642792' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/5501718668548642792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/5501718668548642792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/03/hope-springs-or-spring-hopes.html' title='Hope Springs or Spring Hopes'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-4734461978076357134</id><published>2008-03-19T07:41:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T09:54:52.884-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><title type='text'>A Tomboy No More</title><content type='html'>I used to be a Tomboy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I grew up with brothers, no sisters, and most of my cousins were boys.   My Pa-paw used to say that he had seven grandkids, and they were all girls except six.  In order to be accepted by the boys, I couldn't be a girly-girl (I didn't really want to be one, anyway), so I was a tomboy.  I wore the designation like a badge of honor.  I loved it; I saw myself as a Rough-and-Tumble Girl(I don't know where I heard that phrase, but I adopted it as the perfect description of myself).  I had smudges on my face and freckles  and knocked around with the boys.  I was strong.  I refused to wear pink or "flowerdy" clothes, much to my mother's dismay.  I didn't mind getting dirty or sweaty or playing with bugs and lizards and frogs or climbing trees and exploring in the woods.  I had dolls and dresses, and they were fine, but they didn't define me, not in my mind.  And even though I liked jewelry and sewing and babies, I always described myself as a tomboy, even into college.  Sure, I wore makeup and would curl my hair sometimes, but my best friends were my brothers and cousins.  I wanted nothing more than to be a part of their group.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always felt like a tomboy despite the girlier aspects of my childhood that I'm beginning to realize were pretty prevalent.  I played with my brothers and cousins, but would abandon them if a new girl moved in nearby, like the time the new family moved to my grandparent's road.  I coveted Jessica's Barbie collection and Kylie's Cabbage Patch family and Dannette's long, thick, blond hair.  I wanted to have a crush on some one, like Jessica had a crush on Elvis.  I really enjoyed wearing dresses and looking pretty as long as I didn't have to wear pink or flowers to do so.  I loved balet and flowers that weren't on clothes and pretty bedrooms.  I relished in the attention I received as the ONLY girl.  But, none of that seemed to conflict with my perception of myself as a tomboy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, now there is no way any one would think of me as a tomboy.  I wear makeup almost everyday.  My hair is usually styled and my nails (fingers and toes) are always done.  I even wear pink and flowers.  I'm still not afraid of dirt or bugs or amphibians or even rodents, but I dare not face the world without lip gloss.  I wonder if the girl I was at age eight would be disappointed to know that I have four sets of curlers.  I don't really feel like a tomboy anymore, either.  I love being girly, but I believe that I still have a little of that Rough-and-Tumble Girl spirit.  I still have freckles, and I am still strong.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-4734461978076357134?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/4734461978076357134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=4734461978076357134' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/4734461978076357134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/4734461978076357134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/03/tomboy-no-more.html' title='A Tomboy No More'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7380464276250451888.post-7544864856502892661</id><published>2008-03-18T20:01:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T07:16:45.396-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><title type='text'>Purse Full of Curlers</title><content type='html'>Yes, I honestly have curlers in my purse. On any given day there is a 75% chance that I have a purse filled with curlers in my car, in my home, or on my person. I'm not just some insane woman carrying around curlers for no good reason; the reason is I don't have enough room in the glove compartment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, maybe I should back up and explain so you don't all think I'm just wacko. See, I live in Northern Virginia and work for a large government agency in Maryland, just outside of DC. My Sweet Husband(MSH-I love abbreviations) works there, too. Actually, he worked there first, and I got a job there for stability, benefits, an increase in salary, and promotion potential(and so MSH could use the HOV lane, thus shortening his commute). At any rate, due to &lt;strong&gt;TRAFFIC, &lt;/strong&gt;we commute in together, and MSH drives every day. We also come to work pretty early so that we avoid the worst of the &lt;strong&gt;TRAFFIC,&lt;/strong&gt; and so that we can have every other Friday off. I use this time to put on my make up and finish my hair every morning so that I don't have to get out of bed even earlier than I already do. Some days, this routine leads to the removal of some type of curlers from my hair while in the car. I believe that it may cause MSH some considerable embarrassment to travel with me in curlers, but he has yet to complain, so I continue to do it. &lt;em&gt;Heaven help me if I ever have to drive myself to work.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I remove the curlers in the car, and the glove box is filled with maps and owner's manuals and other things MSH insists should be kept in the glove box, it will not hold all the curlers. Now, I could bring a bag or box or other acceptable receptacle for the curlers, but due to the exceedingly early time we have to leave home to get to work on time, I cannot possibly be expected to remember details such as this. Therefore, the only place I have for my curlers is my already over-stuffed, quite large purse. Even if I do remember to bring something else to put the curlers in, it's generally another purse because I'm usually rummaging through the closet when I remember. And what is in my closet that can hold curlers? If you answered "Purses!", you would be correct.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other half of the issue, the reason that the chance that I will have curlers in my purse is so high, stems from the fact that I am lucky enough to own two complete sets of hot rollers, one set of sponge curlers, and one set of velcro rollers (4 sets total; I know you're jealous). Therefore, I generally do not put the curlers away in order to use them the next day, because there are always more curlers! I will run out of purse space before I run out of curlers. I also have better things to do in the evenings and can't possibly be expected to remember to do such things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do fear that my purse strap will break, and the world will see curlers spilling out. In this vision, I see myself chasing them as the roll down the hallways I walk each day. Especially the one that slopes downward as I leave the office each day. It's my own personal nightmare, but, luckily, one that has yet to become real.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this is my blog, and I can't quite tell you what it will be about, but I can tell you a little about me. I mentioned that I work for a large government agency outside of DC. I'm from Alabama, originally; so is MSH. Our families still live there. At this point, we've been married for just over 5 years, and we're each just over 30 years old, but not quite 31. We don't have any children, yet. At least none that I know of (MSH makes me say that). I do want children and absolutely adore our nieces and nephews. I cry in the greeting card aisle at Wal-Mart; my head is filled with random lines that might make decent poetry one day; and I have a purse full of curlers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7380464276250451888-7544864856502892661?l=pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/feeds/7544864856502892661/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7380464276250451888&amp;postID=7544864856502892661' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/7544864856502892661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7380464276250451888/posts/default/7544864856502892661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pursefullofcurlers.blogspot.com/2008/03/purse-full-of-curlers.html' title='Purse Full of Curlers'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07177181649139590998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WxLMIq6TZzY/R9_5qByFgZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/VHfc1ZUB2bE/S220/2343124156_d76703f75c_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
