<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><rss xmlns:atom='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' version='2.0'><channel><atom:id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6861621606569836435</atom:id><lastBuildDate>Wed, 30 Dec 2009 13:53:34 +0000</lastBuildDate><title>Don't Judge A Blog By It's Title</title><description>Don't Judge A Blog By It's Title</description><link>http://staceelewis.blogspot.com/</link><managingEditor>stacee_acee@yahoo.com (Stacee)</managingEditor><generator>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>88</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6861621606569836435.post-262406033416736546</guid><pubDate>Sat, 17 Oct 2009 20:39:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-17T14:21:21.224-07:00</atom:updated><title>Over my word quota for the day....</title><description>My title just about sums up my attitude towards blogging lately. It also sums up how I feel right now... out of words. (The irony is that I will go on and write 7 paragraphs worth of words right after this statement)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 232px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393679526569772130" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/Stoy89V9BGI/AAAAAAAAAlg/g7r1GFolb3Q/s320/fall09+089.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 314px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393679518419390866" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/Stoy8e-wEZI/AAAAAAAAAlY/0I7PyIrY_8o/s320/fall09+102.jpg" /&gt;Ben is camping with the guys, and Madelyn must have drank some talking &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;serum&lt;/span&gt;. She has been using all 79.7 &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;bazillion&lt;/span&gt; words on me today. While I am getting ready, while I am on the phone, while I am trying to sleep, and on and on... now I know how Ben feels sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 246px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393679506856021538" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/Stoy7z51DiI/AAAAAAAAAlQ/HrLfzQdDvt0/s320/P9183681.JPG" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As for my blog, it has been so far on the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;back burner&lt;/span&gt; since the precious iPhone enlightened my life. Why go sit in the computer room to blog, when I can &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;face book&lt;/span&gt; from my comfy couch next to my comfy husband and my &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;continuously&lt;/span&gt; talking child.?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 206px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393679495603389922" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/Stoy7J-_heI/AAAAAAAAAlI/mlKIjhheHQk/s320/fall09+092.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As for the things you have missed, fall is my favorite time of the year, and one of my very busiest times too. I just can't resist:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Tailgating *Tech Football *Pumpkin Patches and Festivals *The Fair * The Harvest Parade&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Other Honorable Mentions:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Ben's 29&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; birthday! (love you old man)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*My pop in to my &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;HS&lt;/span&gt; reunion (could not &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;handle&lt;/span&gt; a full day of social &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;awkwardness&lt;/span&gt;), but a quick cameo was nice&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*My many hours spent at the eye doctor... good news, no patch will be needed! :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Loving long Sleeve tee-shirts and crisp weather!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know I am missing many other things, but my word bank really is empty now...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6861621606569836435-262406033416736546?l=staceelewis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://staceelewis.blogspot.com/2009/10/over-my-word-quota-for-day.html</link><author>stacee_acee@yahoo.com (Stacee)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/Stoy89V9BGI/AAAAAAAAAlg/g7r1GFolb3Q/s72-c/fall09+089.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6861621606569836435.post-4695358956455882511</guid><pubDate>Thu, 01 Oct 2009 01:52:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-09-30T19:15:28.190-07:00</atom:updated><title>Bragging Rights</title><description>&lt;p&gt;2 Brag Worthy Items&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ellie went tee-tee in the potty all day at school and wore panties! Woo-hoo!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Madelyn has been the sweetest most obedient girl ever lately... saying "Yes Mam", and then promptly doing whatever is asked of her. It has really been almost eerie how very sweet she has been&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;This leads up to the following story:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Madelyn: &lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;Mom can I get something for saying yes mam and yes sir and doing what I supposed to?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Me: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;I think you probably can, you have been doing really awesome!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Ellie:&lt;/span&gt; Mommy I get a prize too?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt; What do you get a prize for??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Ellie:&lt;/span&gt; I go potty all day!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;It was so cute to see her little thought process on this. I am very proud of them both!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6861621606569836435-4695358956455882511?l=staceelewis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://staceelewis.blogspot.com/2009/09/bragging-rights.html</link><author>stacee_acee@yahoo.com (Stacee)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6861621606569836435.post-5913760791779006881</guid><pubDate>Thu, 10 Sep 2009 01:48:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-09-09T18:57:24.167-07:00</atom:updated><title>Fake it til' you make it</title><description>Tonight as we were heading home from our walk, my conversation with Madelyn went like this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Madelyn: I don't like going on walks&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: You've always liked them before&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Madelyn: Nope I don't like them anymore&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Well I guess we could leave you at home, and ask the neighbors to keep an eye on you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Madelyn: Nooooooo....&lt;br /&gt;                  (she ponders for a while... then)&lt;br /&gt;                 &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt; I guess I'll just have to fake it til' I make it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Good Idea!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I am impressed, not only does this mean she listened to me (we had a big lesson in fake til' you make it the other day), she thought about, and she applied it!&lt;br /&gt;Gold star for me and Madelyn!-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6861621606569836435-5913760791779006881?l=staceelewis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://staceelewis.blogspot.com/2009/09/fake-it-til-you-make-it.html</link><author>stacee_acee@yahoo.com (Stacee)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6861621606569836435.post-4279528992609178232</guid><pubDate>Thu, 03 Sep 2009 01:58:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-09-02T19:19:25.560-07:00</atom:updated><title>I'm Street Smart</title><description>Got this email and thought some of these were so me, some just plain funny, and some deleted to save you time :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;-I wish Google Maps had an “Avoid Ghetto” routing option&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;-More often than not, when someone is telling me a story all I can think about is that I can’t wait for them to finish so that I can tell my own story that’s not only better, but also more directly involves me. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you’re wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Have you ever been walking down the street and realized that you’re going in the complete opposite direction of where you are supposed to be going? But instead of just turning a 180 and walking back in the direction from which you came, you have to first do something like check your watch or phone or make a grand arm gesture and mutter to yourself to ensure that no one in the surrounding area thinks you’re crazy by randomly switching directions on the sidewalk. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I totally take back all those times I didn’t want to nap when I was younger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;-Is it just me, or are 80% of the people in the “people you may know” feature on Facebook people that I do know, but I deliberately choose not to be friends with?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Do you remember when you were a kid, playing Nintendo and it wouldn’t work? You take the cartridge out, blow in it and that would magically fix the problem. Every kid in America did that, but how did we all know how to fix the problem? There was no internet or message boards or FAQ’s. We just figured it out. Today’s kids are soft.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-There is a great need for sarcasm font&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Sometimes, I’ll watch a movie that I watched when I was younger and suddenly realize I had no idea what the f was going on when I first saw it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I think everyone has a movie that they love so much, it actually becomes stressful to watch it with other people. I’ll end up wasting 90 minutes shiftily glancing around to confirm that everyone’s laughing at the right parts, then making sure I laugh just a little bit harder (and a millisecond earlier) to prove that I’m still the only one who really, really gets it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-How the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I would rather try to carry 10 plastic grocery bags in each hand than take 2 trips to bring my groceries in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-The only time I look forward to a red light is when I’m trying to finish a text.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- A recent study has shown that playing beer pong contributes to the spread of mono and the flu. Yeah, if you suck at it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Was learning cursive really necessary?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Lol has gone from meaning, “laugh out loud” to “I have nothing else to say”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Answering the same letter three times or more in a row on a Scantron test is absolutely petrifying. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- My brother’s Municipal League baseball team is named the Stepdads. Seeing as none of the guys on the team are actual stepdads, I inquired about the name. He explained, “Cuz we beat you, and you hate us.” Classy, bro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- Whenever someone says “I’m not book smart, but I’m street smart”, all I hear is “I’m not real smart, but I’m imaginary smart”.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- How many times is it appropriate to say “What?” before you just nod and smile because you still didn’t hear what they said? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I love the sense of camaraderie when an entire line of cars teams up to prevent a dick from cutting in at the front. Stay strong, brothers!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Every time I have to spell a word over the phone using ‘as in’ examples, I will undoubtedly draw a blank and sound like a complete idiot. Today I had to spell my boss’s last name to an attorney and said “Yes that’s G as in…(10 second lapse)..ummm…Goonies”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-What would happen if I hired two private investigators to follow each other?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- While driving yesterday I saw a banana peel in the road and instinctively swerved to avoid it…thanks Mario Kart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- MapQuest really needs to start their directions on #5. Pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I find it hard to believe there are actually people who get in the shower first and THEN turn on the water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Shirts get dirty. Underwear gets dirty. Pants? Pants never get dirty, and you can wear them forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I would like to officially coin the phrase ‘catching the swine flu’ to be used as a way to make fun of a friend for hooking up with an overweight woman. Example: “Dave caught the swine flu last night.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t at least kind of tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Bad decisions make good stories &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;-Whenever I’m Facebook stalking someone and I find out that their profile is public I feel like a kid on Christmas morning who just got the Red Ryder BB gun that I always wanted. 546 pictures? Don’t mind if I do!&lt;/strong&gt;- Is it just me or do high school girls get sluttier &amp; sluttier every year?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-If Carmen San Diego and Waldo ever got together, their offspring would probably just be completely invisible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Why is it that during an ice-breaker, when the whole room has to go around and say their name and where they are from, I get so incredibly nervous? Like I know my name, I know where I’m from, this shouldn’t be a problem…. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you’ve made up your mind that you just aren’t doing anything productive for the rest of the day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after DVDs? I don’t want to have to restart my collection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I’m always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten page research paper that I swear I did not make any changes to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- “Do not machine wash or tumble dry” means I will never wash this ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I hate being the one with the remote in a room full of people watching TV. There’s so much pressure. ‘I love this show, but will they judge me if I keep it on? I bet everyone is wishing we weren’t watching this. It’s only a matter of time before they all get up and leave the room. Will we still be friends after this?’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;-I hate when I just miss a call by the last ring (Hello? Hello? Dammit!), but when I immediately call back, it rings nine times and goes to voicemail. What’d you do after I didn’t answer? Drop the phone and run away?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- I hate leaving my house confident and looking good and then not seeing anyone of importance the entire day. What a waste. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;-When I meet a new girl, I’m terrified of mentioning something she hasn’t already told me but that I have learned from some light internet stalking.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I like all of the music in my iTunes, except when it’s on shuffle, then I like about one in every fifteen songs in my iTunes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Why is a school zone 20 mph? That seems like the optimal cruising speed for pedophiles…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- As a driver I hate pedestrians, and as a pedestrian I hate drivers, but no matter what the mode of transportation, I always hate cyclists.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Sometimes I’ll look down at my watch 3 consecutive times and still not know what time it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-It should probably be called Unplanned Parenthood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;-I keep some people’s phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Even if I knew your social security number, I wouldn’t know what to do with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Even under ideal conditions people have trouble locating their car keys in a pocket, hitting the G-spot, and Pinning the Tail on the Donkey - but I’d bet my ass everyone can find and push the Snooze button from 3 feet away, in about 1.7 seconds, eyes closed, first time every time…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-My 4-year old son asked me in the car the other day “Dad what would happen if you ran over a ninja?” How the hell do I respond to that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-It really pisses me off when I want to read a story on CNN.com and the link takes me to a video instead of text.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I wonder if cops ever get pissed off at the fact that everyone they drive behind obeys the speed limit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6861621606569836435-4279528992609178232?l=staceelewis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://staceelewis.blogspot.com/2009/09/random-thoughts-email.html</link><author>stacee_acee@yahoo.com (Stacee)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6861621606569836435.post-3142016944750069214</guid><pubDate>Tue, 18 Aug 2009 01:48:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-08-17T18:57:22.141-07:00</atom:updated><title>Girl Secrets Revealed</title><description>Guys, Ever wonder why women like to travel to the potty in pairs?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here is one theory:&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 274px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371116701638206850" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SooKLshQJYI/AAAAAAAAAlA/14EvTQA6XOc/s320/summer+09+333.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Guess you'll never really know.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6861621606569836435-3142016944750069214?l=staceelewis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://staceelewis.blogspot.com/2009/08/girl-secrets-revealed.html</link><author>stacee_acee@yahoo.com (Stacee)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SooKLshQJYI/AAAAAAAAAlA/14EvTQA6XOc/s72-c/summer+09+333.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>8</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6861621606569836435.post-142985251854441169</guid><pubDate>Fri, 14 Aug 2009 14:36:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-08-14T07:46:00.928-07:00</atom:updated><title>iPhone = iEnvy</title><description>Ben and I still live in the stone ages a bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;No home phone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;No cable. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;No dvr. :(&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;No bells.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;No whistles.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;No money.  &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(downside to only having one parent have a job that makes money)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 450px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 600px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://dvice.com/pics/iphone_review.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So when Ben got a new &lt;strong&gt;iPhone&lt;/strong&gt; from his company yesterday I fell in love. Of course I have seen other people's &lt;strong&gt;iPhones&lt;/strong&gt; before, but never got to play on one for long. Was thinking about maybe donating blood every month to pay the data package, but thought better of it.  Now I still can't wait for Ben to get home every night... but now its so I can play on his phone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6861621606569836435-142985251854441169?l=staceelewis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://staceelewis.blogspot.com/2009/08/iphone-ienvy.html</link><author>stacee_acee@yahoo.com (Stacee)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6861621606569836435.post-1437133486576259159</guid><pubDate>Tue, 11 Aug 2009 22:51:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-08-11T15:53:13.641-07:00</atom:updated><title>Clearing the air</title><description>In response to my "true friend" blog.... I may have over reacted.  I guess sometimes things don't seem as they are.  I can admit that perhaps fumes and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;miscommunication&lt;/span&gt; got the best of me.  Pardon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6861621606569836435-1437133486576259159?l=staceelewis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://staceelewis.blogspot.com/2009/08/clearing-air.html</link><author>stacee_acee@yahoo.com (Stacee)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6861621606569836435.post-4740737341967377232</guid><pubDate>Tue, 11 Aug 2009 06:49:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-08-11T00:11:54.329-07:00</atom:updated><title>Lasts</title><description>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Wow, lots of Ch-Ch-Changes for Miss M over the past week. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Last day of the 3 year old class. (Maddie, Madelyn, Madison)&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368597890530014914" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SoEXVl7z9sI/AAAAAAAAAjo/TJuVGtChoPw/s320/summer+09+327.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Last day with Maddie in class. (Why does my child insist on wearing fake pearls &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;everywhere&lt;/span&gt;?)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 256px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368597896621127378" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SoEXV8oC9tI/AAAAAAAAAjw/l1Ykac3MHSg/s320/summer+09+324.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Last day of &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;cheer leading&lt;/span&gt;. No pics. Uh-oh. It was a crazy chaotic class. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Last day of &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;swimming&lt;/span&gt; lessons. She did great! &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 243px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368597907910106034" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SoEXWmrjG7I/AAAAAAAAAj4/PlIKrXSAzwA/s320/summer+09+293.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Last &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;play date&lt;/span&gt; of the summer. We picnicked with Lila &amp;amp; &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Mckenna&lt;/span&gt;... well that was a first! ;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 254px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368597916812222482" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SoEXXH1-oBI/AAAAAAAAAkI/sEKESDzNLW4/s320/summer+09+311.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 181px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368597910617749746" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SoEXWwxGePI/AAAAAAAAAkA/wd2F7l1AMWo/s320/summer+09+310.jpg" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More firsts to come! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6861621606569836435-4740737341967377232?l=staceelewis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://staceelewis.blogspot.com/2009/08/lasts.html</link><author>stacee_acee@yahoo.com (Stacee)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SoEXVl7z9sI/AAAAAAAAAjo/TJuVGtChoPw/s72-c/summer+09+327.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6861621606569836435.post-2754135075396563932</guid><pubDate>Tue, 11 Aug 2009 05:54:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-08-10T23:14:45.358-07:00</atom:updated><title>A true friend...</title><description>I once read a quote that said "A true friend stabs you in the front"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, ok who am I kidding?  I did not read it.  I saw it on the credits of &lt;em&gt;Can't Hardly Wait.&lt;/em&gt;  (Why do I always have to give these self admissions)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When first seeing this quote I thought it was was comical.  The older I get, the more I get it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I was slapped straight in the back by a person I would have never seen it coming from. It could be that I am overly sensitive, but I would so much rather hear a little criticism to my face than have it delivered from three people removed.  It was about something as stupid as paint colors... I could not care less about the dang paint.  It was the route of delivery. That is what hurt my feelings.  A little heads up that it may not be ok to paint would have been nicer than sending someone else in unwarned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All this to say...passive aggressiveness stinks.  Seriously.  It may be easier for the confronting person but it creates a lot more hurt feelings that it would have been up front. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next time you have an issue, grow a pair, tell the person, move on like grown ups. &lt;br /&gt;Thanks, and that is all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6861621606569836435-2754135075396563932?l=staceelewis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://staceelewis.blogspot.com/2009/08/true-friend.html</link><author>stacee_acee@yahoo.com (Stacee)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6861621606569836435.post-3560632692270713205</guid><pubDate>Thu, 30 Jul 2009 02:46:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-07-29T20:30:48.066-07:00</atom:updated><title>Got Patch?</title><description>It is becoming more evident to me lately that my left eye likes to stop working, and let my right eye do all of the work. Sometimes for no reason at all I'll realize that my left is shut as I'm walking. (Don't you dare call it a lazy eye either or I'll make you pay).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway upon self diagnosis I have decided that I should wear an eye patch on occasion to help my left eye learn to work again. Ben agrees, mostly due to the fact he is afraid of my eye doctor bill. And NO by the way I won't be wearing it in public. But, if you ever pass the baby room at &lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;PDO&lt;/span&gt; with the door closed, please just keep on walking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been wearing my sleep mask all cockeyed so it just covers my right eye. But that lethargic lefty has realized that I can still see out of the bottom of the mask when I do this, and it makes my right eye do the work anyway. My right eye works so much it thinks it is in training for the eye Olympics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So all this to say... I don't know where to find a patch. Any clues?? I thought about waiting til Halloween and finding a pirate costume with a patch. How is that for double duty? I just know Ben would be pumped about &lt;del&gt;getting to be Tinker Bell since I'll be going as Captain hook&lt;/del&gt; buying a complete pirate costume for a $2 patch that will break in a week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, if you see a pink bedazzled patch I'd prefer that one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a side note: Ben once convinced me that I had a lazy eye, and told me all his friends called me the "girl with the lazy eye" behind my back. I was crying by the end of our conversation. To which he graveled and said he just made the whole thing up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When mentioning this to a friend (before I told the part about him joking) she goes "Well it only does that if you've been drinking"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WhatTheHeck???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not to mention I &lt;em&gt;did really and truly&lt;/em&gt; have to wear a patch for a while when I was younger, to help prevent my eye from being lazy. Pretty sure it was lefty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364088476866141074" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SnESDK9fW5I/AAAAAAAAAjg/_5rACq24PHc/s320/lazy+eye.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paranoia has me wondering if Ben really did think my eye was lazy.... surely not. Right?&lt;br /&gt;Will be getting right to that Dr's appt. ASAP...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6861621606569836435-3560632692270713205?l=staceelewis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://staceelewis.blogspot.com/2009/07/got-patch.html</link><author>stacee_acee@yahoo.com (Stacee)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SnESDK9fW5I/AAAAAAAAAjg/_5rACq24PHc/s72-c/lazy+eye.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6861621606569836435.post-1198122884958681826</guid><pubDate>Thu, 23 Jul 2009 17:18:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-07-23T20:14:40.407-07:00</atom:updated><title>The TRUE stress test</title><description>Yesterday I had to go take a stress test.&lt;br /&gt;They took me to a quiet room.&lt;br /&gt;Let me lie back on a fluffy pillow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Gently&lt;/span&gt; put the skin probes on.&lt;br /&gt;Had me walk at whopping speeds of 1.2-4.3mph on the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;treadmill&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Took my blood pressure about 53 times (the only unpleasant part)&lt;br /&gt;All the while watching the rain out of a picture window.&lt;br /&gt;Afterward they gave me cheery good byes and sent me on my way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now let me ask you this: Shouldn't they have followed me around my house earlier in the day to test my blood pressure? I am sure they would have caught a spike...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;7:02 a.m.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(right before I have to get up during my sacred snooze time)&lt;br /&gt;Madelyn, "Mommy my covers fell off my bed can you fix them?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;7:o5 a.m.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nestled back in and warm.&lt;br /&gt;Ellie, "&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;EET&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(get)&lt;/span&gt; UP MOMMY, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;EET&lt;/span&gt; UP"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;7:09&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Madelyn, "My &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;forehead&lt;/span&gt; hurts Mommy"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;7:12 &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Madelyn has a fever of 100.6&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;7:30&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Phone calls made, Movie on, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Cuppies&lt;/span&gt; fixed, Back to rest for a moment&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Eet&lt;/span&gt; Up Mommy!" Ellie is now hovering over me prying my eyes open.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*********************************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;10:35 &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ellie you need to go tee tee"&lt;br /&gt;"NO"&lt;br /&gt;"Ellie go tee tee now"&lt;br /&gt;"NO"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;10:42&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still coercing Ellie to go tee tee&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;10:47&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mommy I go tee tee"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;10:51&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Madelyn, "Mommy my bathroom smells like poop"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;10:52&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I notice a very backed up toilet. Must not have ever gone down from earlier. What the heck did Ellie flush down there to make it THAT bad?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;10:53&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plunge, plunge plunge ... flush&lt;br /&gt;"Oh no, it's now coming out of toilet... &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;ick&lt;/span&gt; with some poop :("&lt;br /&gt;I stop and see if it settles&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;10:57&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still not any better&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;11:13&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plunge, Plunge, Plunge&lt;br /&gt;No Avail.&lt;br /&gt;Texts to Ben about the stinky situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;11:31&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The water is all down, so I give it one more flush to fix it.&lt;br /&gt;Flush causes it to back up &lt;strong&gt;again&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plunge 46 more times... Voila!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;********************************************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;12:27&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ellie throws a fit about not wanting to take a nap for about 45 minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*********************************************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2:05&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ben shows up 5 minutes late to let me go to my to my stress test. (At &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;UMC&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;He make me take his big-o-hard-to- drive-truck in the rain&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2:08&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Someone&lt;/span&gt; blazes past leaving me without driving &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;visibility&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2:13&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get in the wrong lane and have to turn a way I don't need to go&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2:23&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am now going the wrong direction on the Marsha Sharp freeway&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2:26&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am on 4&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; street. Getting closer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2:31&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I search for a spot that is big enough for the truck.&lt;br /&gt;Pull in, reverse, pull in, reverse.&lt;br /&gt;Give up.&lt;br /&gt;Keep looking.&lt;br /&gt;Bingo, two spots...I park in them!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2:33&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On my way up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*********************************************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Compared&lt;/span&gt; to all that, the stress test was a piece of cake!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6861621606569836435-1198122884958681826?l=staceelewis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://staceelewis.blogspot.com/2009/07/true-stress-test.html</link><author>stacee_acee@yahoo.com (Stacee)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6861621606569836435.post-5186960872901498737</guid><pubDate>Mon, 20 Jul 2009 15:05:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-07-20T09:15:35.295-07:00</atom:updated><title>My Ellie</title><description>My attempt at blow drying Ellie's hair straight.  Isn't she cute?&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SmSIhB7cHVI/AAAAAAAAAjY/y9RR8OFWBK8/s1600-h/summer+09+289.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 205px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360559557512535378" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SmSIhB7cHVI/AAAAAAAAAjY/y9RR8OFWBK8/s320/summer+09+289.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SmSIg-KjLNI/AAAAAAAAAjQ/K8rHZrmn5gs/s1600-h/summer+09+288.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 221px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360559556502170834" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SmSIg-KjLNI/AAAAAAAAAjQ/K8rHZrmn5gs/s320/summer+09+288.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6861621606569836435-5186960872901498737?l=staceelewis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://staceelewis.blogspot.com/2009/07/my-ellie.html</link><author>stacee_acee@yahoo.com (Stacee)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SmSIhB7cHVI/AAAAAAAAAjY/y9RR8OFWBK8/s72-c/summer+09+289.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6861621606569836435.post-8258121501775599596</guid><pubDate>Thu, 16 Jul 2009 01:55:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-07-15T19:24:29.582-07:00</atom:updated><title>Answers to your questions regarding the Chikin</title><description>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/Sl6OXeLS3zI/AAAAAAAAAjI/s0KRV9uXEr4/s1600-h/summer+09+281.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 284px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358877140506042162" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/Sl6OXeLS3zI/AAAAAAAAAjI/s0KRV9uXEr4/s320/summer+09+281.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="color:#0000ff;"&gt;Yes, we did actually dress up like cows&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 306px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358875530466268098" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/Sl6M5wT5k8I/AAAAAAAAAi4/ej3bMAC7sRA/s320/summer+09+274.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="color:#0000ff;"&gt;Yes, even me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt; &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 202px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358877136657678050" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/Sl6OXP1xfuI/AAAAAAAAAjA/wzHucVpDX8M/s320/summer+09+278.jpg" /&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="color:#0000ff;"&gt;Yes, I am THAT cheap (I wanted my free Chikin too)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 259px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358875524734876498" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/Sl6M5a9be1I/AAAAAAAAAiw/eUkMAhGUcDc/s320/summer+09+277.jpg" /&gt; &lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="color:#0000ff;"&gt;Yes, we did ask that cow to sneak up behind us so Ellie could unwittingly get a pic with a cow&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 209px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358875518134879074" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/Sl6M5CX3g2I/AAAAAAAAAio/Le-cU_vFMxQ/s320/summer+09+282.jpg" /&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="color:#0000ff;"&gt;Yes, Ellie caught on and now has a greater cow phobia than ever before&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 222px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358875504887380738" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/Sl6M4RBauwI/AAAAAAAAAiY/ukLQ_J-iMGs/s320/summer+09+283.jpg" /&gt;Yes, Madelyn loved and laughed at every funny cow moment, only exasperating E's cow fear. &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 283px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358875514046005730" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/Sl6M4zJAQeI/AAAAAAAAAig/Wjbb503Twvc/s320/summer+09+285.jpg" /&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="color:#0000ff;"&gt;Yes, Cows need reading glasses!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="color:#0000ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/Sl6Jj-IXlYI/AAAAAAAAAiQ/lYBddN9Sd9s/s1600-h/summer+09+287.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358871857683993986" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/Sl6Jj-IXlYI/AAAAAAAAAiQ/lYBddN9Sd9s/s320/summer+09+287.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; No, I don't know why all my words above are underlined! (and why these are not.... crazy blogger)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6861621606569836435-8258121501775599596?l=staceelewis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://staceelewis.blogspot.com/2009/07/answers-to-your-questions-regarding.html</link><author>stacee_acee@yahoo.com (Stacee)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/Sl6OXeLS3zI/AAAAAAAAAjI/s0KRV9uXEr4/s72-c/summer+09+281.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6861621606569836435.post-6371973981998529097</guid><pubDate>Thu, 09 Jul 2009 00:21:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-07-09T15:03:50.424-07:00</atom:updated><title>Save a Cow, Eat a Chikin!</title><description>What could be better than a chubby gal dressed in cow print??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A chubby gal dressed in cow print that is getting free food!!! And that is just what I'll be doing on &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Friday&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Humiliating??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Perhaps.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;But...&lt;br /&gt;Chick-&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;fil&lt;/span&gt;-a on slide will give you free food all day Friday if you come in dressed like a cow. From 5-8 they will be having special events for the kids. Face painting, pictures with the cows, and a sundae bar!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is Ellie's shirt... hoping to find a "cow" bell and a tail!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 259px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356250146968767682" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SlU5IUo1DMI/AAAAAAAAAiI/QoA5grSlvJU/s320/summer+09+269.jpg" /&gt;Here is a pic from when we got free kids meals for dressing like a princess! Madelyn LOVED this cow. I think she(the cow) got weary from all the hugs Madelyn wanted. Ellie was to scared to take a pic with the cow. To this day she still whimpers "Cow gonna get me" when we pass Chick-&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;fil&lt;/span&gt;-a, but we are &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;going&lt;/span&gt; to give it a try anyway. &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 294px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356250138792015922" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SlU5H2LVuDI/AAAAAAAAAiA/tpRE1-RJqII/s320/summer+09+270.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6861621606569836435-6371973981998529097?l=staceelewis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://staceelewis.blogspot.com/2009/07/save-cow-eat-chikn.html</link><author>stacee_acee@yahoo.com (Stacee)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SlU5IUo1DMI/AAAAAAAAAiI/QoA5grSlvJU/s72-c/summer+09+269.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6861621606569836435.post-2494036627321109955</guid><pubDate>Sun, 05 Jul 2009 21:31:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-07-05T20:18:02.292-07:00</atom:updated><title>Freedom</title><description>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;M: Why do we have stars on stuff for July?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 215px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355178989787654578" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SlFq6xLtqbI/AAAAAAAAAh4/-tc3X9ixHgk/s320/summer+09+254.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;S: Because it represents our flag, and how our country won freedom, that is why we celebrate 4&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; of July. (Proud of my sweet mommy daughter moment I go in to further depth feeling as if she has learned some deep life long lesson)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;M: (after blank looks and thought) What is freedom?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;S: &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Ummm&lt;/span&gt;.... uh... (I don't think the dictionary definition will do) It's when you are free. (and some other &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;garbled&lt;/span&gt;  not know what to say &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;explanations&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;M: (Satisfied with my half hearted answer.) Oh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 316px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355178988292600114" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SlFq6rnQ8TI/AAAAAAAAAhw/uBiXwrIAWX0/s320/summer+09+258.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;My mom later gave her a great analogy about being locked in a car seat for a long time and then being let out. Then she got it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Ellie and Ben had &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;similar&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;attitudes&lt;/span&gt; about the parade, and since it is cuter on her, you can draw the inferences on Ben's parade outlook! &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 302px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355178979061621618" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SlFq6JObY3I/AAAAAAAAAho/hG_S4wjjetM/s320/summer+09+261.jpg" /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 269px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355096444951607682" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SlEf2BtMOYI/AAAAAAAAAhg/xV7QWyYsYLw/s320/summer+09+259.jpg" /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355096433433073138" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SlEf1Wy9VfI/AAAAAAAAAhQ/1gGW_DV2ayM/s320/summer+09+260.jpg" /&gt;My friend Kristy and I on the night of the 4&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 319px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355096419101455330" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SlEf0haCM-I/AAAAAAAAAhA/HgZ3ffUJCAg/s320/summer+09+268.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6861621606569836435-2494036627321109955?l=staceelewis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://staceelewis.blogspot.com/2009/07/freedom.html</link><author>stacee_acee@yahoo.com (Stacee)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SlFq6xLtqbI/AAAAAAAAAh4/-tc3X9ixHgk/s72-c/summer+09+254.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6861621606569836435.post-3230173983176693682</guid><pubDate>Sun, 28 Jun 2009 03:31:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-06-27T21:17:13.966-07:00</atom:updated><title>Yes, I'll have wedding with a side of wacko</title><description>I thought this sort of thing usually happened to people who's name starts with "L"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Leigh Ann A. always attracted crazy people... we encountered with great frequency&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lane undoubtedly has a flare for finding the unique&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;and &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Laura once met a sweet and special friend at &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Ragin&lt;/span&gt;' Cajun (by far the most adorable of these sorts of encounters:)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now I guess they have moved on to the "L" last names... my turn.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;**********************************************************&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 268px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352218914054101250" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SkbmvrxSWQI/AAAAAAAAAgg/8uZyZfeSKII/s320/summer+09+248.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ben was in a wedding of a good friend tonight. I got there pretty early and there was not anyone there to sit with when I arrived, so I just let the usher take me where ever he wanted. &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 232px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352218919240445426" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/Skbmv_FzrfI/AAAAAAAAAgo/20k48vBhfjM/s320/summer+09+249.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He led to me to an aisle that had 3 people on it. I started to make my way down the row when the third lady, we will call her Red Dress, told me to sit by her. She also speedily cleared all of her things so I could be right by her. Despite the fact that it was 102 outside and part of her leg was spilling into my seat I could not bear to tell her no. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Shortly after I sat she told me that bride wanted her to wear red. (Not sure why since it was an orange and yellow wedding). Then after some small talk she would reach over and pat my arm or tap my knee. I can't say I am sure she has fully a functional mental state so I politely sat there. We were all given a fan when we walked in, and hers seemed to be MIA. Every once in a while I could feel her lean in to enjoy some of my fan air. The wedding begins and she pulls out a jumbo ice pack and pets it in her lap, making many crinkly sounds with the wrapping.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now the wedding starts. I feel as if I am home free now. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;The wedding is well under way, Ben is in sight, please God please don't let her save me a seat at the reception and all will be golden.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Uh -oh spoke too soon.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The pastor stops to pray and she rests her hand on knee. Okay I can deal with that. Then she gets an "itch" so she moves her hand off my leg. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Whew.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After said "itch" she moves her hand back but this time on my thigh. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Pray fast... please pray fast.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As the pastor continues, the longest prayer ever prayed. She starts to lightly tap her thumb.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Rigid and wide eyed I tune out all praying and focus on her moving fingers on my dress. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Amen&lt;/strong&gt;. (and hallelujah I might add)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Her hand moves off, but not before an extra love pat on my knee.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The rest of the ceremony went fine, and I darted in the opposite direction of Red Dress after the wedding.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At the reception I managed to pose other people to capture her in the background. I figured since she groped me, I could in turn post unauthorized pictures. At one point she was walking around with a big piece of rolled up deli meat hanging out of her mouth like a cigar (my zoom was to slow). &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 298px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352218923488054770" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SkbmwO6hDfI/AAAAAAAAAgw/WTb5GGDKELk/s320/summer+09+250.jpg" /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 215px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352218920246969234" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SkbmwC1yA5I/AAAAAAAAAg4/wT2qNHL8FuE/s320/summer+09+253.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She was walking toward me during the reception, but I turned before she reached her destination. I think I'll pass on the next side of &lt;em&gt;wandering hand&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6861621606569836435-3230173983176693682?l=staceelewis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://staceelewis.blogspot.com/2009/06/yes-ill-have-wedding-with-side-of-wacko.html</link><author>stacee_acee@yahoo.com (Stacee)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SkbmvrxSWQI/AAAAAAAAAgg/8uZyZfeSKII/s72-c/summer+09+248.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6861621606569836435.post-8186791849991510008</guid><pubDate>Mon, 22 Jun 2009 03:16:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-06-21T20:47:37.683-07:00</atom:updated><title>Party Like It Is 1999</title><description>&lt;div align="left"&gt;Ben had his class reunion this weekend. We went to the lunch part and the party part (though not &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;originally&lt;/span&gt; planned). Ellie threw a monumental fit in front of ALL at lunch. We also toured the new parts of the building. Then we headed to Melt for the evening and to the "R" to finish out the night. I must admit I had many tinges of dread as it &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;approached&lt;/span&gt;, but it turned out to be a lot of fun. Perhaps too much fun. I danced in a huge circle (may or may not have done a dance solo), took goofy pics, and managed to lose one of my shoes. Have no fear I retrieved my shoe from the parking lot this morning! My reunion is not until October, and after Ben's I feel more hopeful that it &lt;em&gt;may&lt;/em&gt; be fun (despite the high price).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/Sj76qy4qAdI/AAAAAAAAAgY/tAuIFg19Ktk/s1600-h/summer+09+235.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 319px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349989020483584466" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/Sj76qy4qAdI/AAAAAAAAAgY/tAuIFg19Ktk/s320/summer+09+235.jpg" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Kristy and I&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/Sj75nJ5zx2I/AAAAAAAAAgQ/LL0E2EmMoog/s1600-h/summer+09+236.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 244px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349987858431330146" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/Sj75nJ5zx2I/AAAAAAAAAgQ/LL0E2EmMoog/s320/summer+09+236.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; The class of '99&lt;br /&gt;Kristy, Meg, Ryan, Kristen, Ashley, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Rebecca&lt;/span&gt;, Jason, Grant, Sonny, Brooke, Ben, Joe, Tater(Glenn), Greg, Brent "Preston", Patrick "RED", and Shelby&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;(This is all that came for the p.m. portion)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/Sj75m9UOgeI/AAAAAAAAAgI/m_mNFtsxikA/s1600-h/summer+09+237.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 237px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349987855052472802" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/Sj75m9UOgeI/AAAAAAAAAgI/m_mNFtsxikA/s320/summer+09+237.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; ME, Tierney, Kristy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/Sj75msOtOyI/AAAAAAAAAgA/fePEgJc5J3M/s1600-h/summer+09+239.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 317px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349987850465917730" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/Sj75msOtOyI/AAAAAAAAAgA/fePEgJc5J3M/s320/summer+09+239.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ben &amp;amp; I&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/Sj75mdiruCI/AAAAAAAAAf4/pzGY1SH3sOI/s1600-h/summer+09+240.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349987846523172898" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/Sj75mdiruCI/AAAAAAAAAf4/pzGY1SH3sOI/s320/summer+09+240.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Me &amp;amp; RED&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/Sj75l24sFzI/AAAAAAAAAfw/LIOib0NHvKc/s1600-h/summer+09+241.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 253px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349987836146489138" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/Sj75l24sFzI/AAAAAAAAAfw/LIOib0NHvKc/s320/summer+09+241.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me &amp;amp; Grant&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6861621606569836435-8186791849991510008?l=staceelewis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://staceelewis.blogspot.com/2009/06/party-like-it-is-1999.html</link><author>stacee_acee@yahoo.com (Stacee)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/Sj76qy4qAdI/AAAAAAAAAgY/tAuIFg19Ktk/s72-c/summer+09+235.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>8</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6861621606569836435.post-7363982189064369028</guid><pubDate>Fri, 19 Jun 2009 21:40:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-06-19T14:47:11.718-07:00</atom:updated><title>Fancy Maddi</title><description>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Elated she ran in the room asking if she looked like Fancy Nancy.....&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SjwG8mHOTMI/AAAAAAAAAfo/7rmEUYu9VYI/s1600-h/summer+09+231.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 141px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349158095502068930" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SjwG8mHOTMI/AAAAAAAAAfo/7rmEUYu9VYI/s320/summer+09+231.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SjwG8mn6vgI/AAAAAAAAAfg/cr2TICbp05Q/s1600-h/summer+09+232.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 298px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349158095639199234" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SjwG8mn6vgI/AAAAAAAAAfg/cr2TICbp05Q/s320/summer+09+232.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Isn't she cute?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6861621606569836435-7363982189064369028?l=staceelewis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://staceelewis.blogspot.com/2009/06/fancy-maddi.html</link><author>stacee_acee@yahoo.com (Stacee)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SjwG8mHOTMI/AAAAAAAAAfo/7rmEUYu9VYI/s72-c/summer+09+231.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6861621606569836435.post-8042291569210780004</guid><pubDate>Fri, 19 Jun 2009 20:49:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-06-19T14:38:41.163-07:00</atom:updated><title>San Diego</title><description>&lt;div&gt;Well we are back from our trip to San Diego. We had a great time as just a couple, and enjoyed seeing San Diego. John and Christina also spent a lot of time with us on the trip.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here I am in OLD TOWN. It had phenomenal Mexican food, San Diego historical sites, and tons of shopping.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349147887580803810" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/Sjv9qapI8uI/AAAAAAAAAfQ/Rgn2zeiwmUg/s320/summer+09+202.jpg" /&gt; I begged to take the trolley, it turned out to be just like a bus, but on a track. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;(Full of scary /smelly characters) This is me and Christina on the trolley.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349147882874784802" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/Sjv9qJHIzCI/AAAAAAAAAfI/XySs0Sw5Q0c/s320/summer+09+207.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ben and I at a Padres game. We ate a $6.50 hot dog and a $6.00 milk shake!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349147876479142834" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/Sjv9pxSTC7I/AAAAAAAAAfA/u8cGgLWrnz4/s320/summer+09+211.jpg" /&gt; Some interesting folks at Patrick's, the bar we frequented!  This ladies hair was off the hizzie.  He man friend cracked us up with his bling. &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 210px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349154983610035858" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SjwEHdaWLpI/AAAAAAAAAfY/0AouzSu2xRY/s320/summer+09+187.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seals, dolphins, leopard sharks, and kayaking were all on la Jolla beach. I am very proud we never tipped our kayak!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/Sjv9pgxHRnI/AAAAAAAAAe4/-GMWASwjnPY/s1600-h/summer+09+218.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349147872044992114" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/Sjv9pgxHRnI/AAAAAAAAAe4/-GMWASwjnPY/s320/summer+09+218.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This dude had a heart attack on the beach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/Sjv9pW9gfxI/AAAAAAAAAew/Zc49btxiywg/s1600-h/summer+09+228.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 254px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349147869412622098" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/Sjv9pW9gfxI/AAAAAAAAAew/Zc49btxiywg/s320/summer+09+228.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We spent a lot of time in Little Italy, The Gas Lamp District, and I even jogged up the coast of few times. We also ate at a Brazilian steak house, cocktailed at on a roof top, tried new foods, and had a grand 'ol time!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6861621606569836435-8042291569210780004?l=staceelewis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://staceelewis.blogspot.com/2009/06/san-diego.html</link><author>stacee_acee@yahoo.com (Stacee)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/Sjv9qapI8uI/AAAAAAAAAfQ/Rgn2zeiwmUg/s72-c/summer+09+202.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6861621606569836435.post-3461244956504660982</guid><pubDate>Fri, 12 Jun 2009 22:14:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-06-12T15:16:17.333-07:00</atom:updated><title>Blogging Spree</title><description>Check out the many blogs I did today!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6861621606569836435-3461244956504660982?l=staceelewis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://staceelewis.blogspot.com/2009/06/blogging-spree.html</link><author>stacee_acee@yahoo.com (Stacee)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6861621606569836435.post-7032180413703485080</guid><pubDate>Fri, 12 Jun 2009 21:46:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-06-12T15:13:47.743-07:00</atom:updated><title>No, we don't beat her.</title><description>Poor sweet Ellie. The girl can't get a break. She had her first set of stitches by falling at Academy spring break week. Now about a week and a half ago she earned her 2nd set by face planting at the PDO playground. She has since face planted 2 more times, and has numerous bruises and scratches from summer time rough housing. She looks quiet pathetic. I really hope we don't have to take out stock in &lt;em&gt;concealer&lt;/em&gt; and &lt;em&gt;Mederma&lt;/em&gt; for her.  I am thankful that these occurrences have happened in public, so at least I have an alibi if CPS calls.   &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346565829363913042" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SjLRS2N6UVI/AAAAAAAAAeo/KhY3-I-RTw4/s320/summer+09+172.jpg" /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346565825442307810" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SjLRSnm7XuI/AAAAAAAAAeg/FiPALUaPOa8/s320/summer+09+171.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;The pics don't really show the damage, but you get the gist.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Other possible titles for this bog were: &lt;em&gt;OOPS she did it again&lt;/em&gt; and &lt;em&gt;The face plant gene&lt;/em&gt; (her gigi face plants all he time)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;**on a serious note please pray for safety over her**&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6861621606569836435-7032180413703485080?l=staceelewis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://staceelewis.blogspot.com/2009/06/no-we-dont-beat-her.html</link><author>stacee_acee@yahoo.com (Stacee)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SjLRS2N6UVI/AAAAAAAAAeo/KhY3-I-RTw4/s72-c/summer+09+172.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6861621606569836435.post-2229284830037555328</guid><pubDate>Fri, 12 Jun 2009 21:27:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-06-12T14:45:05.194-07:00</atom:updated><title>Bowdacious</title><description>My funny niece Kaegan asked if she could fix the girls hair.... this is what she came up with!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346558663115578626" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SjLKxt3KnQI/AAAAAAAAAeA/58ly60OvBqk/s320/summer+09+132.jpg" /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346558670206696322" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SjLKyIR0e4I/AAAAAAAAAeQ/SwzsnwxYPnc/s320/summer+09+135.jpg" /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346558667486609138" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SjLKx-JTPvI/AAAAAAAAAeI/4Hg7hytiSXc/s320/summer+09+137.jpg" /&gt;Yes, their heads are covered in bows.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6861621606569836435-2229284830037555328?l=staceelewis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://staceelewis.blogspot.com/2009/06/bowdacious.html</link><author>stacee_acee@yahoo.com (Stacee)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SjLKxt3KnQI/AAAAAAAAAeA/58ly60OvBqk/s72-c/summer+09+132.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6861621606569836435.post-6277269646456438979</guid><pubDate>Fri, 12 Jun 2009 21:20:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-06-12T14:22:07.722-07:00</atom:updated><title>Bootylicious</title><description>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SjLGzSnAP8I/AAAAAAAAAd4/PEY5hFUb6Uk/s1600-h/summer+09+077.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 248px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346554292113260482" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SjLGzSnAP8I/AAAAAAAAAd4/PEY5hFUb6Uk/s320/summer+09+077.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;My babies too bootylicious for ya!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6861621606569836435-6277269646456438979?l=staceelewis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://staceelewis.blogspot.com/2009/06/bootylicious.html</link><author>stacee_acee@yahoo.com (Stacee)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SjLGzSnAP8I/AAAAAAAAAd4/PEY5hFUb6Uk/s72-c/summer+09+077.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6861621606569836435.post-9194862148570391147</guid><pubDate>Fri, 12 Jun 2009 21:07:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-06-12T14:19:05.740-07:00</atom:updated><title>Blurb</title><description>I finally ordered and recieved Ellie's 1 year photo book. I used &lt;a href="http://blurb.com/"&gt;blurb.com&lt;/a&gt; and am pretty happy with it. I will change some styling thing things that I would do differently on my next book. Affordable and nice quality. I love the "year book" look it has! &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 254px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346553003375855714" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SjLFoRsECGI/AAAAAAAAAdY/LIJJltcoMAw/s320/summer+09+001.jpg" /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 282px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346553011165976722" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SjLFoutX2JI/AAAAAAAAAdg/w33fSTZWufc/s320/summer+09+002.jpg" /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346553019884289426" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SjLFpPL-vZI/AAAAAAAAAdw/LboDMcrG2sA/s320/summer+09+004.jpg" /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346553012501817858" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SjLFozr3KgI/AAAAAAAAAdo/o4BCc51Y8Ho/s320/summer+09+003.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4 1/2 stars out of 5!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I aslo finished her baby book finally! Now only 1 year behind on Ellie! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dont forget to check out blurb!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6861621606569836435-9194862148570391147?l=staceelewis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://staceelewis.blogspot.com/2009/06/blurb.html</link><author>stacee_acee@yahoo.com (Stacee)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QKYwZJZZ0B4/SjLFoRsECGI/AAAAAAAAAdY/LIJJltcoMAw/s72-c/summer+09+001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6861621606569836435.post-480761528925114147</guid><pubDate>Sun, 24 May 2009 17:25:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-05-26T16:36:42.474-07:00</atom:updated><title>The Best Part</title><description>I forgot the best part of the glasses story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day Madelyn had hers on and goes "Mom, do you know why I wear these?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Why&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Madelyn: Cause they help me see better!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Interesting.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6861621606569836435-480761528925114147?l=staceelewis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://staceelewis.blogspot.com/2009/05/best-part.html</link><author>stacee_acee@yahoo.com (Stacee)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item></channel></rss>