<?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-8479446151915312918</id><updated>2011-09-21T04:33:34.534-05:00</updated><category term='Plaid Monkeys and Buns'/><title type='text'>Accordion Me</title><subtitle type='html'>My little perspective on life's happenings...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Jules</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03678984924454560309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SExf4mw3KqI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iPop61b0WIA/S220/DSC02646.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>38</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479446151915312918.post-789538159061778171</id><published>2008-09-18T08:51:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-18T12:20:17.608-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Jesus Freak</title><content type='html'>Jesus Freak?  Who?  Oh, wait...it's ME!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This won't be a short blog, and I'm not sure it's intended for anyone but me.  I'll probably talk about YOU in it though and YOU might get to know ME better.  SO, if at all interested...keep reading.  My thoughts are not collected well and when I write, I ramble.  (OH, when I talk I ramble too.  It's all about consistency.)  But I feel a NEED to ramble.  So, here goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monday my son got into trouble at school.  I was called in to talk to the teacher.  My kids go to a private Christian school.  Well, the situation itself is an entirely different blog about the injustices towards our little boys in grade school (hehe, mommy talk there).  Basically he was "talking to his boy" telling him to pick up his pencils.  A little girl interjected and spouted off that he was mean and he called her a liar.  The teacher was very upset that he "called her a name" when the little girl had "only told him he was mean, meaning he was acting bossy. And yet your son called her a NAME."  Long story short, my lil dude made me snicker when he later replied to me during our conversation on this "Yea, I said she was a liar, MEANING she wasn't telling the truth!"  hehehe &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhow...on Monday's the school has chapel time and this day they had a guest speaker named Ken Freeman (www.kenfreemanministries.com).  The topic was on words and how your words can affect others.  So, little dude HEARD what he needed to.  The kids were so excited about this speaker.  Partly because he was going to be speaking M-W nights as well and they wanted to go! (Partly because they'd see their friends.)  Monday night I didn't feel well and Tuesday was football.  But I knew I wanted to go as well.  I've been needing a good spiritual kick in the butt lately.  So Wednesday night it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did not realize that Wednesday night was primarily set apart as YOUTH night and that I would be sitting in the middle of about 150 STINKY-SMELLY-NEEDING-SOME-DEODORANT 13-16 year olds. (God bless the Youth pastors that inhale this regularly.)  I also didn't realize that Ken would be sharing his life story this night and that it would be somewhat explicit and possibly lead to more questions than I was ready for from my 7 year old.  I ALSO did not realize that when I walked into the lobby, readying myself to hear God, embracing the anonymity of not being at my own church home (www.mscwired.org) , because for some reason I just needed to be somewhere different and not feel like I was there to fellowship, but rather to worship...I did not know that there would be a table and a huge sign with the face of my friend and my church's worship leader, Mark Roach.  (www.myspace.com/markroach or www.markroachmusic.blogspot.com)    I texted Mark and our friend Kelley asking if he was indeed at this place this evening (thinking maybe they were just selling CD's or something???)  And of course, with a CD signing table, DER, he was there to lead worship.  In my pursuit of anonymity, I can't tell you the sense of HOME that I felt when Mark and Carolyn (his awesomest, singingest, beautifulestest, wife) and a couple of the other guys from our church took the stage to lead worship.  My kids aren't normally in "adult worship service" and it was indredible to spend this time with them and they felt the sense of home as well...this was not only their school, but their church now and we were all worshipping Jesus together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After worship, I took little dude downstairs to "play" to avoid what might be coming up.  My daughter just turned eleven and somehow sitting with the Youth felt right (and made me feel old.)  I felt like a little bridge for her...she's so close to that age where the desire for independence just oozes stupidly out of their pores.  Sitting between her and this group somehow gave me this picture of "hand-off" and I felt this feeling of readiness.  Primarily because I saw a readiness in her.  She's such a sassy little thing (gets it from her father no doubt), and yet, when it comes to her faith in Christ...she just HAS it!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ken is an indredibly easy to listen to speaker.  He's beyond real.  His life story is one of the saddest I've heard.  He moved more times than I remember, changing schools countless times.  His father left when he was 4 and his mother had countless marriages (9 I think?) and more boyfriends.  He had his baby sister and several half siblings.  His mother beat them.  She beat them badly.  She, on more than one occasion, woke them in the night with knifes to their throats telling them no one wanted them and she didn't either.  She would leave them in parking lots sitting on a curb for 30 minutes or 12 hours...depending upon where she was going to get drunk or high.  They had no self worth and only lived off of the inherent trait of survival.  Ken woke one night when his mother had left them alone with a boyfriend for 3 days, to the boyfriend raping his little sister.  To "save" her, Ken allowed himself to be sacrificed into this molestation.  When his mom returned from this happening repeatedly for the 3 days, she was drunk.  When she finally heard their story, she had him arrested and little 7 year old Ken was taken to the police station to look this man in the eye and identify him.  Ken went into tons of detail about his upbringing, but he was clear to say he was leaving out much of the horrors.  Fast forward to Ken meeting "football player Jeff".  You can read Ken's books or possibly you'll get an opportunity to hear him speak...you will not be sorry.  He's crazy cool.  In order to get to the feelings I want to share, I'm merely going to say that Jeff ended up being the person that witnessed to Ken and the person that led Ken to Christ.  The story is actually insanely amusing, especially hearing Ken tell it, and I wish you would check out the whole thing.  But basically, Ken is now  a Pastor.  I've left out bookloads of his story, and wish I could express how far removed Ken was from anything holy.  From anything good on this planet.  From anyone in fact.  And now, he speaks to masses and shares his story through books in order to hopefully reach others, devastated by the world or just searching for some answers or meaning.  He wants to reach EVERYONE actually.  Because that is what it is to be Christian.  It saddens us to our core (or should) to think about those we love, or anyone at all, not spending eternity in Heaven.  To continue living this life on our own accord and having a void that can only be filled by Christ's love for us.  He's doing something that he LAUGHED OUT LOUD drunkenly about for years.  He didn't just not believe in God.  He HATED God and everything He stood for.  Ken has been transformed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I needed this story last night.  I needed to be reminded of Christ's love for me.  My church reminds me, my friends remind me, CREATION itself reminds me.  But there's something that ticks in me that is struck and spoken to by an "in your face, no nonsense, crazy cool, whackadoodle Jesus Freak!"  Ken is that...in the best way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why did I need this?  Many, many reasons.  I NEEDED the bonding time with my kids.  I needed to genuinely worship Jesus together and not just sing the songs.  I've raised them to be proud of what they believe and to stand up for what they believe.  They are exposed to worldliness (oooo, there's some Christianeze for you), so don't give me the "they're standing up for what YOU believe" jargon.  But yes, they are exposed to Jesus in many areas of their life and not just on Sunday morning.  But there's something that you can't take away from someone.  Something that as much as you want to debate or prove to them that it isn't right or real or true...they will just have to, and be able to, say...it's true to me.  EXPERIENCES.  Some more Christianeze for you....Spiritual Markers.  Faith is believing in that which you cannot see.  So to get into some debate with someone about whether Christ is real or not...we could pull out all the Lee Strobel "Case for Christ" series and go through all of the prophecy passages in the Bible together...or we can keep it simple.  We can KNOW by our EXPERIENCES.  Our sprititual markers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can tell you that there probably aren't too many, if any, Christians that don't have a story.  They have times in their lives where they knew God's presence was there.  Some of these stories are kinda creepy-ish.."do do do do"...and some are just heartfelt-soul felt.  My daughter's experienced both.  My son has experienced the "soul felt".  I have indeed experienced both.  I think these things (especially those weird "do do do do" moments) happen for us to HOLD ON TO.  Like a little prize from God to help us through the tough times.  A little trinket to take away the doubt that naturally occurs in our human hearts.  A nugget of heaven to able us to live on Earth.  Our pride keeps us from sharing these stories sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, what would some of you think about me if I told you how I "tested Jesus" early in my faith and shouted through tears "YEA, well you can't make this curtain blow right now just because I'm asking you to!!!"  (And the curtain not only blew, but a cool breeze came in from a warm night and brushed my cheek and sent goosie bumpies down to my tootsies.)  You'd think I was off my rocker for sure!!!  (I say for sure because many of you are close to convinced of that about me already.  Te he.)  What would you think of the plumber that came just yesterday to rescue me from my basement flood; covered in tattoos and asking for a beer at the end of his job.  What would you think of his story of infidelity and partying and leaving and getting back together with his wife after realizing that the new girl wasn't the one and he'd made a mistake.  After hearing the song The Reason by Hoobastank and feeling led to send it to her, opening up new lines of communication.  And "only going with her to church because that was a condition of the restoration of their relationship."  He KNEW he didn't believe in God.  What would you think of him telling you that he knew that he knew that he knew that Jesus was not only real and was God, but that he LOVED him after being convinced by feeling His presence.  His presence came via him getting mad one day and yelling out to God "Well, if you'd just give me a sign!" and the song "Calling all Angels" by Train (you know the lyrics..."I need a sign, to let me know you're here...)  came on the radio just as the words left his mouth...leaving him in a blubbery mess on the floor.  And again, when asking for what is right...the song The Reason came on again at that precise moment.  Coincidence you say?  Try telling that to him!  Again, you cannot take soul experiences away from people!!!  You just can't.  How can you argue what they felt and know in their heart???  And me, well, I laugh at the word "coincidence" anyhow.  I don't much believe in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Mark Roach...do you really think he's always written Worship music?  I mean, it's certainly possible.  But nah, he wrote songs about love and girls.  I think he had a band called Taboo at one time!  haha  ( I hope I don't get in trouble for that.)  I only mention it to preface the question:  Do you really think that he does it for the fortune and fame?  Bwahahaha...I'm certain he could be making a ton more money hitting the road singing about sex, drugs and rock 'n roll.  And although his success in the music industry has brought him a degree of fame, I can tell you that that is NOT his thing.  (And even less-so his wifey's thing.)  His THING is reaching others and telling them of Christ's love.  His thing is worshipping our Creator.  WHY is this his thing???  BECAUSE it's REAL.  Because he's had experiences (and since then, yes fed and nourished through learning and living) that have proven Jesus' existence, death and resurrection, to his heart!  To his innermost being.  So he's clung to it and his response has been to reach others through the gifts that Jesus has given him.  He's a Jesus Freak too :)  And I mean that in the nicest possible way.  So, Mark, if you're reading.  Yo...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What does all of this have to do with anything?  I guess I just needed to ramble.  I needed to reflect.  I also need you to know who I am.  Know who I want to continue to be.  Some of you are rolling on the floor right now undoubtedly.  Some of you might even have tears and are thinking "yea, sista, where you been?"  I've been in a funkadelic place.  That's where.  (And I don't mean funkadelic, like the smell my basement is emitting at the moment.)  I mean funk.  Like...life funk.  Most everyone knows I've gone through changes.  Divorced recently and that brings changes across all lines of life.  Including friends.  Make new friends...but keep the old....(Geez, I"m humming a lot while typing this blog.)  For me, it's brought highs and lows and the lows have been looooooow.  The highs have been hiiiiiiiigh.  But I guess it's where I'm turning in those high's and lows that I feel a need to get into check.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've met some WAY cool people lately.  Via MYSPACE.  I know...silly eh?  There's only a few of them that are creepy (hahaha)...most of them are just real, dysfunctional, cool, fun, swell people like me :)  Then there's the friends of old.  I have been fortunate in my adult life to have many many many many many friends.  (Most don't have a clue what blogspot is though.)  I have friends from many different circles and at times, it's difficult to keep up with my friends.  That sounds kinda...wrong, doesn't it?  But what a problem to have.  I'm thankful for too many friends.  I'm thankful my friends are there, even when I'm not.  I pray (yep, oh yep I do) that they know I do not take them for granted.  I hope it never feels that way.  I haven't been a great friend for awhile.  But they're great. And new friends.  Oh, wow.  Some of them are crazy great.  I WANT these friendships.  But I've treaded deeply enough in the past several months to know that I need to make sure and remember who I am.  In order for me to do that...I feel a need to make sure I tell you who I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That said...I don't know if I will be able to change my party ways again over night.  I don't want to change all of them.  I'm having FUN and don't want that to stop.  I want to continue to meet fabulous people.  I want to continue doing the things I love and always have...dancing, floating, boating, sporting events, eating and more eating.  I want the friendships I'm making to grow.  I want to learn more about people.  I want to learn more about me and the things that are out there that I might learn to love!  But Jules is needing some serious balance checking in her life.  I can have tons o fun and get a job.  I can have tons o fun and serve at my church.  I can have tons o fun and still stay in touch with friends.  I can have tons o fun and take care of my children WELL.  I can have tons o fun and still make time to grow in my faith and nurture the most important relationship in my life...That with Christ.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jules isn't going anywhere.  And I'm WAY sorry if you broke something when you fell down laughing.  I know I haven't shown anything resembling Christ-like behavior to some of you.  I'm human and make no excuses.  But you see, being a Christian doesn't mean that I'm perfect.  Being a Christian means that I realize the need for a Savior and that I acknowledge I have Him.  He does also tell us to be firm.  To confess with our mouths.  Going back to the stories.  The Spiritual Markers.  Man, I don't want to be too prideful to share those.  Man, I don't want to lose touch with them.  Those moments that NO ONE could tell me that it wasn't so.  No matter how much debating, no matter how much "religious talk", no matter how much condemnation came my way.  No one can take away what is unexplainably true in my heart.  I wonder how many others have those experiences and have lost touch of them.  Have not shared them (pride?).  Have chalked it up to coincidence or some other spiritual momentum.  Hear me...I am not here to judge anyone.  GOD knows I don't want anyone judging me.  I have friends that are from all denominations.  I have friends that claim to be spiritual, yet don't know Jesus from a hole in the wall.  I have friends that, and yes, it saddens me if I think about it; reject the thought of Christianity altogether.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I met Ken Freeman.  And I WAS Ken Freeman to an extent.  Don't mis-read.  I did and do have a family that loved me.  But as we all do, I have some messed up life experiences under my belt.  Although I never "didn't" believe in God,  I didn't know Him.  I had no knowledge of His love for me.  His sacrifice for me.  His ability to fill the void that haunted my life.  I had no knowledge of transformation.  So, I don't judge anyone.  I pray for them.  Not as often as I should though.  I pray for myself.  Not as often as I should though.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My experience is different than yours.  We're all unique. Maybe you'll step out and respond with a  "dodododooo" story of your own.  Maybe you'll respond with "yes, you are indeed a whackadoo".   And that's really ok.  I'll continue to be me.  But I wanted you to know (and to remind myself) of who I be...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I be a Jesus Freak.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8479446151915312918-789538159061778171?l=accordionme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='' href='http://www.kenfreemanministries.com' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/feeds/789538159061778171/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8479446151915312918&amp;postID=789538159061778171' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/789538159061778171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/789538159061778171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/2008/09/jesus-freak.html' title='Jesus Freak'/><author><name>Jules</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03678984924454560309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SExf4mw3KqI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iPop61b0WIA/S220/DSC02646.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479446151915312918.post-2741092181746690068</id><published>2008-09-09T14:35:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-09T15:00:07.014-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Houston, We Have Contact...And I am thankful.</title><content type='html'>The Title, just a tease of the ramblings going on in my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow, it is a perfect beautiful day.  I put a status update on my Myspace profile that says "I want to drop the top, drive the five, chat with the sea lions, go to the Rodeo, and eat pizza on that corner in La Jolla.  But, I'm mowing."  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Truth of the matter is, I enjoyed mowing.  I really need none of the other stuff to feel content at the moment.  (Although I really like the sound of it all.)  I woke up this morning in a fog.  A very sleepy fog.  Partly due to the "contact" I referred to, which had me staring at the ceiling until about 2:45 am for the 2nd night in a row.  So, I was tired.  But also partly due to the fact that I haven't been embracing contentedness.  Or thankfulness.  I'm thankful for the yard I have to mow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shortly after I awoke, I received a text from a person I know telling me that a friend of ours' mother had passed away yesterday.  The person sending the text has had her share of loss this past year as well, losing both her father and step dad whom she was very close with.  I ended our series of texts saying that I was going to be thankful today.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Houston, we have contact.  Yes.  Contact.  Finally.  Although, I don't even need to ask myself the question (unless I want the world to know how ridiculously stupid I am capable of being) of whether a drunk text is worth considering contact.  Not even like a "drunk text" with innuendos.  Rather a sole text reading "I'm drunk."  Nice.  But this didn't anger me.  Rather I was thankful.  I was thankful for the contact in some strange way.  Saddened by the literal text.  The person on the other end isn't enjoying contentedness either.  I think they believe they are and I could surely be wrong.  But this person is not a big drinker.  Hasn't been who they are.  I'm open to change.  We don't have to "stay who we've been".  But any time it's becoming someone we aren't, it can't be right.  Right?  It made me sad.  I miss this person very much.  But I was thankful.  For contact.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I got to thinking.  Along with this thankful, contentedness, and even sad feeling.  I'll bet others think the same of me.  I hope I'm not making someone sad by not being available.  By not being myself.  A good friend told me that I'm going to find out what I'm made of.  I want to be made of thankfulness.  I want that to be a huge part of who I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I received another text while pondering all of this on my morning drive.  From a friend that was just texting to say she loves me.  And she does.  And somehow, she always picks the right moments to let me know that I am loved.  Thankful for my friends.  I received another text (well, I"m actually collecting a few of these into one thought) from a friend recently diagnosed with cancer.  For the 2nd time.  He always asks how "I'm" doing.  Really?  That's inspiring no? He lives his life thankful.  He is not well.  But he is thankful for friends and life and I'm pretty sure God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My daughter's teacher called.  She didn't finish her math homework again.  AND she lied to me about it.  (I asked her 4 times if she was sure it was done and I didn't check because we've talked about trust.  And possibly because I was in a funk and just didn't.)  The teacher is going to team with me to get her on the up and up.  She is willing to check her backpack EVERY day before leaving and every day when returning.  Our hope is that daughter will not enjoy this and will take the responsibility.  I am thankful for her teacher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am rambling now as well and have no time to proof, edit and make more sense of my thoughts because I'm going to pick up those little ones I'm most thankful for.  I could leave it here and edit, etc later.  But nah.  I'm posting.  I plan to enjoy more of this beautiful weather, hug my kids, and make weekend plans with new friends I'm going to be thankful for :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully, finished.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8479446151915312918-2741092181746690068?l=accordionme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/feeds/2741092181746690068/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8479446151915312918&amp;postID=2741092181746690068' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/2741092181746690068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/2741092181746690068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/2008/09/houston-we-have-contactand-i-am.html' title='Houston, We Have Contact...And I am thankful.'/><author><name>Jules</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03678984924454560309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SExf4mw3KqI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iPop61b0WIA/S220/DSC02646.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479446151915312918.post-5943965795430762856</id><published>2008-07-06T13:28:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T14:33:25.967-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Woman Scorned</title><content type='html'>SO, this is a new title that has been declared my way.  I actually think it took hearing it in a half joking way from someone to make me realize that it's so.  It's so true.  Hate that.  So, now what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why am I a "woman scorned".  Well, that's my business.  But what about scorned women?  What does it do to us?  Why do we let things AFFECT us so much when the EFFECT usually stinks?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm "affected".  I've let a situation change me.  In fact, I invited the situation to change me.  I wasn't dealing with it well, so I purposefully told myself..."self, here's how you're gonna deal with this."  The "effect"...DUMB.  Just dumb.  This isn't the person I wanna be.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Growing up, things in my life influenced who I was, how I acted, how I coped.  That's true with all of us.  But I spent MANY years regretting some of the dumb decisions I'd made.  Some of the stupid things I'd done.  Oh, I could sit here and say "I have no regrets.  Everything has made me who I am today."  UM, yea, LIARS, you people that say that!  Or maybe not.  There's truth in that statement.  BUT, I had USED those regrets as a crutch too many times in my past.  I hadn't thought I could be a GOOD person because of some things.  Me, yep, I had regrets...but I had actually learned and triumphed into forgiving myself, forgiving others, and moving forward without those regrets any longer &lt;strong&gt;defining&lt;/strong&gt; who I am and will be.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward to now.  REALLY?  Did I spend all of that time for nothing? Am I really going to allow myself to be so influenced by a situation, that I will venture down a path that will only make me unhappy in the long run?  WHY?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know the answer to that too!  (Smart that way.) &lt;strong&gt;BECAUSE&lt;/strong&gt;, facing the crap just hurts too damn much!  I'd rather meet new friends, party like a rockstar, and protect ME from further pain.  (Or at least be in charge of whatever pain may become me.) Escape.  Yea, there's a reason.  &lt;strong&gt;Escape.&lt;/strong&gt;    I justify it well.  I mean, I am newly single.  I do need to meet new people.  I CAN party cuz' I'm old enough, I take care of my kids well, when I have ME time, I'm "deserving". I think for some, this is all probably pretty fine and dandy and real.  There's nothing wrong with fun. Don't read that into any of what I'm saying.  I'm just saying for ME, right now, I'm needing to face that I have escaped into this self protection mode of HELLOOOO, HIDING PAIN.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Crap that sucks to admit.  Woman scorned.  Crap that sucks too.  Person I wanna be...haven't met her yet.  She's in there though.  And she's flippin AWESOME!  Guess I have to back track a little, face the stupid (I'll refrain from using the profanity that I can barely keep in to describe how much I ABHOR the stupidity of the pain I have to face)PAIN.  I have been telling myself I need to have my guard up.  I never want to have to go through this again.  EVER!  I have told myself and others that I don't trust anyone anymore.  I've said that if anyone's gonna play it's gonna be ME!  I've not made time for my friends that have been by my side for years because they know of my stupidity, and it's embarrassing, and it hurts to have to lean on people so many times.  I say it's because I'm newly single and need to find new single friends.  Some truth there, but it's because I've let myself become totally selfish.  That's what it boils down to I think.  My "woman scorned" act has consequentially turned me into a very selfish person.  Selfish of my time, selfish of my service, selfish of my regard for others feelings, selfish for protections sake.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's time.  It's time to backtrack and once again face the pain.  I don't want to kid myself and think that just because I've made this realization that I am going to be a "NEW" woman and be over it, voila'.  I'm gonna have to go through it.  Equate it to a grieving process maybe?  See, this is the crap reason why WE "scorned" women don't do it!  It's much easier to just say "No, I don't want a real relationship; No, I don't trust people; No, I don't CARE."  But the fact is, I'm a really trusting person.  Too much so.  I'm a really caring person.  Too much so.  And ultimately, when the time is right, I want a fantastic life relationship with someone. So, there ya have it.  Honesty at it's rawest.  Any other scorned women out there (there are, but they probably aren't reading this) willing to admit that we need to face the hurt and face the fact that we &lt;strong&gt;WERE&lt;/strong&gt; hurt, admit the pain?  Or will ya just keep hiding?  Me, I'm outta the closet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The coolest chick I know said this to me:  "There's a fine line between distraction and destruction in these situations.  That is my concern for you."  Well said sistah!  This girl isn't about to self destruct.  I'm gonna hurt though.  But on the other side of it is AWESOME me!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8479446151915312918-5943965795430762856?l=accordionme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/feeds/5943965795430762856/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8479446151915312918&amp;postID=5943965795430762856' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/5943965795430762856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/5943965795430762856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/2008/07/woman-scorned.html' title='A Woman Scorned'/><author><name>Jules</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03678984924454560309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SExf4mw3KqI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iPop61b0WIA/S220/DSC02646.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479446151915312918.post-7870474539783624886</id><published>2008-06-29T15:35:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-29T15:58:00.869-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Are You FREAKING kidding me?  EWWW!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SGf2sYE3R1I/AAAAAAAAAGQ/AcoY_hKPWig/s1600-h/SANY1323.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SGf2sYE3R1I/AAAAAAAAAGQ/AcoY_hKPWig/s400/SANY1323.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217409935569536850" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you freaking kidding me???  THIS is what my stomach looks like right now!  AND my legs, AND my arms, AND AND AND!!!  (I of course would have spared you the icky picture, but I've been in trouble in past for blogging about what things look like and not posting pic!  AND, if you are my friend, this will get more sympathy ratings, and if you are NOT my friend and it grosses you out...GOOD!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, let's go.  SICK!  So, I thought that I was having some dreaded allergic reaction to "last years" sunscreen that I decided to use.  The other possibility was that it was some sorta dreaded reaction to Bath &amp; Body Works (new flavor) lotion that I used the night before it erupted!  OH, but no. Because that would mean that I could get an allergy pill or something and clear it up.  NOOOO, instead...it's a delayed reaction to the Strep Throat I had a few weeks ago.  (That in itself is blog worthy...I mean, am I six years old?  Did I lick the handle on the grocery cart and forget that?  My KIDS did not get Strep Throat.  Why me?  WHYYYYYYYYY????? *extra whining tone inserted*)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guttate Psoriasis.  &lt;br /&gt;http://www.webmd.com/skin-problems-and-treatments/psoriasis/guttate-psoriasis &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ARE YOU FREAKIN KIDDING ME???  SO, here's the deal.  I happen to have psoriasis.  I happen to be extremely familiar with this crap disease.  I also happen to have a form of arthritis that resembles rhumetoid that is called Psoriatic Arthritis.  I inject Enbrel once a week and have become "a new woman" and a walking commercial.  (To the tune of $1400/month without insurance; thank GOD I only pay $100).  SO, I am extremely familiar with the PROGNOSIS of this crap!  It basically has to "run it's course".  Did I say "ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My high school reunion is in 2 weeks.  Someone asked me "Well, what are you gonna do, strip at your reunion?"  NO smarta@#$...but what about the hot dress I wanted to wear, never mind the pool day on Saturday!?!  Never mind the fact that even if I didn't have a reunion coming up (and haven't dieted, so this is just an &lt;strong&gt;extra&lt;/strong&gt; dose of ickiness) it's FLIPPIN SUMMERTIME!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GEEZ!  Are you KIDDING ME???  SO, yes, it seems as though I am doomed to sport the lovely RAISED red rash for up to a month?  Maybe longer???  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;UM, ARE YOU FREEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAKKKKKKINNNNNGGGGGGGGG KIDDING ME???  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ARRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm none too pleased.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8479446151915312918-7870474539783624886?l=accordionme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/feeds/7870474539783624886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8479446151915312918&amp;postID=7870474539783624886' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/7870474539783624886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/7870474539783624886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/2008/06/are-you-freaking-kidding-me-ewww.html' title='Are You FREAKING kidding me?  EWWW!!!'/><author><name>Jules</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03678984924454560309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SExf4mw3KqI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iPop61b0WIA/S220/DSC02646.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SGf2sYE3R1I/AAAAAAAAAGQ/AcoY_hKPWig/s72-c/SANY1323.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479446151915312918.post-5010741231323479539</id><published>2008-06-27T11:27:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-27T11:29:46.924-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Calling all Dog Whisperer's</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SGUVWf0EWKI/AAAAAAAAAF4/vsGgzvQYeG4/s1600-h/photo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SGUVWf0EWKI/AAAAAAAAAF4/vsGgzvQYeG4/s200/photo.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216599219619780770" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Calling all Dog Whisperer’s &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HELP!  OK, here's the scoop.  I have a Harley.  He's my dog, not a hog.  I adopted him 2 1/2 years ago from the pound after getting rid of a Jack Russell Terror.  I LOVE this mutt!  But I need major help right now, as the advice I've been hearing is to let him go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FULL STORY:  Harley pees in the house.  He always has if I'm honest.  I could sit here and justify him, which is what I've done for the past 2 1/2 years.  1) I am not good at ALWAYS putting him in his crate if I run somewhere.  2)  I leave him out at night sometimes (to protect me)...and to keep from getting up when he barks for me in the middle of the night (honesty again).  3)  He was a stray and a year old when I got him, so he had bad habits in place already.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Harley rules the roost.  He goes in and out all day (which, when I start working, isn't gonna be happening).  We always have to go open the door for him and have no idea if he's peeing or not as he just likes to play outside.  He DOES NOT however want to be an outdoor dog at all and would drive my neighbors crazy sitting at the backdoor barking to come in.  (He's NOT a barker, just when he wants in.  Barks once.  Then again.  Then again.  You get it.)  SO, we have no idea what kinda potty schedule he really runs.  All I know is, he has AMPLE time to be doing his deed OUTSIDE!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More of the scoop.  I'm recently divorced (no, he's not traumatized, he peed at the last house too) and we've moved into new house.  Well, he is quickly making my living room floor a pee stained mess!!!  Once or twice ok!  Not kidding, he did it THREE TIMES yesterday!  WTF!!!!  And I used to think I could only scold him if I caught him in the act.  Well, nooooo, this dog knows exactly what he's done!  If I call him nicely and he comes and sees me standing near it...he will stop mid tracks like "oh crap!"  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now for the good of Harley.  He's a very sweet dog.  He does let me know when there's strangers around :)  He does give me a sense of security.  He loves us unconditionally.  My kids would be devastated to get rid of him (and that's something I would have a very difficult time with considering the rest of the transition I'm putting them through).  He's way funny.  He's fun to play with.  He's part of our family dang-it!  My little Harley-pants.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've already considered how hard it will be having a dog when I go back to work.  Who will let him out?  How long can he stay in his crate all day...and then night too?  What kinda life is that?  But thinking about letting my Harley go is really really saddening me.  HELP!  Is there a magic pee pill???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry to blog all over you.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8479446151915312918-5010741231323479539?l=accordionme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/feeds/5010741231323479539/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8479446151915312918&amp;postID=5010741231323479539' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/5010741231323479539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/5010741231323479539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/2008/06/calling-all-dog-whisperers.html' title='Calling all Dog Whisperer&apos;s'/><author><name>Jules</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03678984924454560309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SExf4mw3KqI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iPop61b0WIA/S220/DSC02646.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SGUVWf0EWKI/AAAAAAAAAF4/vsGgzvQYeG4/s72-c/photo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479446151915312918.post-8634086367935639630</id><published>2008-06-10T21:26:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-10T22:00:27.586-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Things my kids say...Part 2...yep, there was a Part 1 sometime back.</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Toes&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While cutting my sons grossy gross dirty toenails tonight I was informed that "Albert Pujols toes are just like this."  "REALLY, how do you know?"  "I read it in a magazine."  Really, like Celebrity Toes InDepth?  What magazine was that?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Softball&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This evening my daughter swung a little too hard?  She informed me that she "cracked her butt".  Um...I informed her she came that way like the rest of us???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Underwear&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My 7 yr old son came stomping out of his room with his cutey little man gray briefs flailing around in the air (because no longer will we ever wear undies with cartoons on them and after seeing the little boy on the opposing baseball team the other night with NEMO flashing through his white b-ball pants...I'm a no-cartoon supporter) throwing a fit that "I ONLY HAVE ONE PAIR OF UNDERWEAR IN MY DRAWER!"  After asking him sarcastically if he needed one for each cheek I sent him to bed and threatened him with laundry duty!  Cheeeeky indeed!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Peek-sures&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After seeing the recent pics I took and posted on Myspace my son informed me I looked OLD!  He was specifically talking about one black and white photo so I replied "You mean like an old-time photograph?"  To which he replied, "No, like you're FIFTY!"  I sent him to bed that night as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Birds and Bees&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My 10 3/4 year old daughter has no interest in learning too much about the birds and the bees.  OK, fine with me.  Although lately it seems that the topic comes up way too many times (innocently enough) with her 7 yr old brother in ear distance, or when we're like 2 minutes from arriving at next activity and "it's a longer conversation than this".  The other day (with 2 minutes to arrival)she proceeded to tell me that she heard that Jamie Lynn Spears was having a baby (we're a little behind on "news").  Many times I've shared with my kids not to believe everything they read, that a lot of it is made up and to always seek truth.  Well, she informed me that it wasn't true (and defended this to all of her friends) because she wasn't married!  I told her that she WAS pregnant and that started it.  "How?"  "What &lt;em&gt;exactly &lt;/em&gt;do you mean her and her boyfriend got together?"  (Really?  Exactly?  Like right now 2 minutes out to arrival?  Because I took you on an entire girls TRIP to try to get you to talk and you put your hand in my face saying TMI!) Luckily she's slept since then and discovered her butt is cracked...so we've not had THE conversation.  Yay me for another couple of days probably. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh geesh...there's SO many more things that have had me half laughing at them lately.  But I'm forgetting in my OLD AGE and can't think right now.  So, I'll post a Part 3 later I guess.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8479446151915312918-8634086367935639630?l=accordionme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/feeds/8634086367935639630/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8479446151915312918&amp;postID=8634086367935639630' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/8634086367935639630'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/8634086367935639630'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/2008/06/things-my-kids-saypart-2yep-there-was.html' title='Things my kids say...Part 2...yep, there was a Part 1 sometime back.'/><author><name>Jules</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03678984924454560309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SExf4mw3KqI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iPop61b0WIA/S220/DSC02646.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479446151915312918.post-6606306576242325529</id><published>2008-06-04T14:40:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-04T14:47:33.229-05:00</updated><title type='text'>BILLS</title><content type='html'>OK...so "I'm a big girl now...".  I no longer receive fun mail order catalogs and invites to every subdivision affair.  I don't open my mailbox to birthday party invites for the kids' friends (because they don't know our address yet...we just got home from a party via email invite).  I haven't received a letter from a long lost friend or even a handful of sweepstakes entries (do they send those anymore or were they out-lawed?).  I now receive BILLS, BILLS, BILLS.  And guess what...they gotta be paid.  HAHA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was bill writing day for me and I haven't written a bill payment in, hmm, like 15 years.  SO, that was fun.  Don't forget to write your account number on the memo portion.  Make sure the address shows through the window.  Place stamp in box.  (Note to self...buy business envelopes because Ameren UE is too cheap to send return envelopes with their bill and I had to send it in a pink hallmark card envelope.)  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um, it is feasible to consider a job now.  And "support" checks would be nice.  EEKS, is my mortgage payment really THAT MUCH?  Time to re-finance already!!!  It is finished.  They're all signed, licked and headed to the box.  Yay me.  (Hey, the Cosmo subscription was less than $20. What?)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8479446151915312918-6606306576242325529?l=accordionme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/feeds/6606306576242325529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8479446151915312918&amp;postID=6606306576242325529' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/6606306576242325529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/6606306576242325529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/2008/06/bills.html' title='BILLS'/><author><name>Jules</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03678984924454560309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SExf4mw3KqI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iPop61b0WIA/S220/DSC02646.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479446151915312918.post-1811389281112282256</id><published>2008-06-01T09:50:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-01T10:01:26.271-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Backtracking on house</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SEK4ugVo1SI/AAAAAAAAAFo/MSmDGQ7V1MQ/s1600-h/SANY0816.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SEK4ugVo1SI/AAAAAAAAAFo/MSmDGQ7V1MQ/s200/SANY0816.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5206927228287898914" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SEK4mekxXuI/AAAAAAAAAFg/lL623i9ccWo/s1600-h/SANY0820.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SEK4mekxXuI/AAAAAAAAAFg/lL623i9ccWo/s200/SANY0820.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5206927090375548642" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SEK4QbJBNBI/AAAAAAAAAFY/g0ETwqwudI0/s1600-h/SANY0867.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SEK4QbJBNBI/AAAAAAAAAFY/g0ETwqwudI0/s200/SANY0867.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5206926711496717330" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SEK3rtpWCFI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/sXZC2eM6-VI/s1600-h/SANY0828.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SEK3rtpWCFI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/sXZC2eM6-VI/s200/SANY0828.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5206926080808978514" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SOOOO, I haven't taken any "after" shots of the house yet.  But I will!  Here's some lovely pics of the before action.  We moved in with the help of many fabulous friends that I am forever grateful to on Memorial Day weekend.  My kiddos were out of town and when they got HOME Monday, their rooms were put together and the house looked and felt like home.  SOOOO many stories on the progress and happenings around this place.  I may venture back and blog about some of them...or I may just stay on forward motion.  THANK YOU MY FRIENDS FOR ALL OF THE SUPPORT, HELP, ENCOURAGEMENT, ETC ETC!  Gonna find out what I'm made of now.  Oh, I got mail too!  Um, a mortgage bill and an electric bill.  Yay me....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8479446151915312918-1811389281112282256?l=accordionme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/feeds/1811389281112282256/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8479446151915312918&amp;postID=1811389281112282256' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/1811389281112282256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/1811389281112282256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/2008/06/backtracking-on-house.html' title='Backtracking on house'/><author><name>Jules</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03678984924454560309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SExf4mw3KqI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iPop61b0WIA/S220/DSC02646.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SEK4ugVo1SI/AAAAAAAAAFo/MSmDGQ7V1MQ/s72-c/SANY0816.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479446151915312918.post-8107577760329645448</id><published>2008-05-04T10:11:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-04T10:15:37.515-05:00</updated><title type='text'>NO, it's not done...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SB3ScrcZqmI/AAAAAAAAAFI/KbzyhN1D7Dg/s1600-h/SANY0800.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SB3ScrcZqmI/AAAAAAAAAFI/KbzyhN1D7Dg/s320/SANY0800.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196540935195437666" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whoops, this is sideways.  Oh well, I'm TOOOOO tired to re-do if that tells you how flippin exhausted I am.  For all of you asking...the shower still looks like this.  Double EWWWW.  It's cracking me up.  No one says...how are you?  You all say "is the shower clean yet?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will be having a "the shower is clean" partay when it is finished.  Tile man came so I haven't been in there an went on to painting.  BUT, after looking a little closer...yes, that was quite sickening...I may be purchasing new shower doors.  I WILL conquer that floor though!  Yep, I will.  My tootsies have to touch it some day.  Triple EWWW!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8479446151915312918-8107577760329645448?l=accordionme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/feeds/8107577760329645448/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8479446151915312918&amp;postID=8107577760329645448' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/8107577760329645448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/8107577760329645448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/2008/05/no-its-not-done.html' title='NO, it&apos;s not done...'/><author><name>Jules</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03678984924454560309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SExf4mw3KqI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iPop61b0WIA/S220/DSC02646.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SB3ScrcZqmI/AAAAAAAAAFI/KbzyhN1D7Dg/s72-c/SANY0800.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479446151915312918.post-1119310344127941708</id><published>2008-05-01T07:20:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-01T07:32:17.866-05:00</updated><title type='text'>This hurts, and that does too!</title><content type='html'>Everything hurts.  Literally.  My body huuuuuurts.  Holy cow, how outta shape am I?  It took me a full day 1/2 of work to clean the KITCHEN and 1/2 BATH at the new place.  BUT, it is finished!  Yay.  This new place of mine is funky friends.  The pics do not do it justice for the "before" shots because you can't really see the dirt.  But I'll post some later.  My hands hurt as I'm typing.  My fingers are swollen and I've had rubber gloves on for 2 days and my hands would love a paraffin dip.  My neck hurts when I turn it from side to side.  (It would love a massage on the beach.)  My back hurts from climbing under and over all the cabinets.  (It wants to go to the beach with my neck and find that masseuse).  My knuckles hurt because somehow I carved a hole in one.  (Back to the paraffin).  My eyes hurt from all of the weeds in the yard and lack of good sleep. Um, good sleep sounds good.  My knees hurt from crawling around on them washing baseboards.  They would love knee-pads.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hurt.  But did I mention how much I'm LOVING the pain!!!  Yay...the reward of accomplishment is sweeeeeeeet.  The tile man is coming...back to work I go.  (OH, I now have 2 boyfriends.  Mr. Clean and Murphy.  Murphy Oil is his name.  Jealous?  So is the Tidy Bowl man....)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8479446151915312918-1119310344127941708?l=accordionme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/feeds/1119310344127941708/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8479446151915312918&amp;postID=1119310344127941708' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/1119310344127941708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/1119310344127941708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/2008/05/this-hurts-and-that-does-too.html' title='This hurts, and that does too!'/><author><name>Jules</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03678984924454560309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SExf4mw3KqI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iPop61b0WIA/S220/DSC02646.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479446151915312918.post-7028292716325424984</id><published>2008-04-21T08:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-21T08:57:59.942-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Toof-wess</title><content type='html'>&lt;A HREF='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SAydZbccYII/AAAAAAAAAE8/Rt4X2oDp5DA/s1600-h/SANY0780.JPG'&gt;&lt;IMG SRC='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SAydZbccYII/AAAAAAAAAE8/Rt4X2oDp5DA/s160/SANY0780.JPG' border=0 alt='' id='BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_' style='clear:both;float:left; margin:0px 10px 10px 0;'&gt;&lt;/A&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FINALLY, he lost his top tooth.  It's been loose over a YEAR!  The bottom one you see missing was loose a week and then gone.  Anyhow, I am half-way writing this blog in hopes that maybe my 7 year old will login and happen upon blogspot and accordion me. This is for you son...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NOOOO, the tooth fairy doesn't like some kids better than other kids.  I happen to think a DOLLAR is quite a sum to collect for a little chunk of tooth. And look how entirely CLEVER she was.  We put your little tooth into a plastic bag, tied a knot and voila', the next morning the tooth is gone and replaced with cold hard cash in the same plastic bag with the knot never being untied.  WOW! (Hey, I always fell for it growing up.) Why, "back in the day"...I think the going rate was about twenty five to fifty cents. So paper money is progress and about as good as it's gonna get.  It will continue to only have a one on it.  Who knows why that fairy is paying some kids $5!  I think it's silly.  And why must you continue to take the fun outta being little.  Quit asking if "we" are poor now and that is why you ONLY got one dollar.  Quit asking if I am really the tooth fairy.  BUT, if you happen to login and happen to come across blogspot and happen to know how to type accordionme...well...this is for YOU dear boy....I AMMMMM the tooth fairy...and ya better quit yer complaining or you're getting cut off!&lt;div style='clear:both; text-align:LEFT'&gt;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8479446151915312918-7028292716325424984?l=accordionme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/feeds/7028292716325424984/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8479446151915312918&amp;postID=7028292716325424984' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/7028292716325424984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/7028292716325424984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/2008/04/toof-wess.html' title='Toof-wess'/><author><name>Jules</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03678984924454560309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SExf4mw3KqI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iPop61b0WIA/S220/DSC02646.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SAydZbccYII/AAAAAAAAAE8/Rt4X2oDp5DA/s72-c/SANY0780.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479446151915312918.post-8165090228755477578</id><published>2008-04-16T13:51:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-16T13:52:48.294-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Home Sweet Home</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SAZKwQm4LHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/c5L6sscrrSg/s1600-h/New+House.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SAZKwQm4LHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/c5L6sscrrSg/s320/New+House.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189917813543283826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My new home. (I didn't say house.  I said Home.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8479446151915312918-8165090228755477578?l=accordionme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/feeds/8165090228755477578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8479446151915312918&amp;postID=8165090228755477578' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/8165090228755477578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/8165090228755477578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/2008/04/home-sweet-home.html' title='Home Sweet Home'/><author><name>Jules</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03678984924454560309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SExf4mw3KqI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iPop61b0WIA/S220/DSC02646.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SAZKwQm4LHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/c5L6sscrrSg/s72-c/New+House.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479446151915312918.post-8315117979070137538</id><published>2008-04-13T13:49:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-13T14:00:49.018-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hawt or Nawt pt. 2</title><content type='html'>OK, mindless blog here.  Reference Hawt or Nawt from past blogging.  Once again, NAWT!  It's no secret that I have a little inner rockstar in me (ok, maybe even a little outer).  But this does not mean I want or need to look like Joan Jett!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, you would think 2 strikes and she should be out right!  Problem is, I've been earning money and had hoped to get ma hair cut ala' FREE in a few months with those funds.  But is it worth it to re-visit my master stylist butcher?  Me thinks not!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SO, I guess I will be fore-going my moola and heading down to Muse on K.  Hear it's THE spot.  Yep, my girl Kell goes there.  She gots cute hair.  Julie Roach owns it and she's way HAWT.  SO...I'll give it a whirl and my cash.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8479446151915312918-8315117979070137538?l=accordionme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/feeds/8315117979070137538/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8479446151915312918&amp;postID=8315117979070137538' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/8315117979070137538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/8315117979070137538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/2008/04/hawt-or-nawt-pt-2.html' title='Hawt or Nawt pt. 2'/><author><name>Jules</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03678984924454560309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SExf4mw3KqI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iPop61b0WIA/S220/DSC02646.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479446151915312918.post-279001579465721377</id><published>2008-04-04T15:55:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-04T16:32:50.505-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I have an opinion...read at your own risk.</title><content type='html'>OK, so...if you're a friend of mine, I'm sorry ahead of time and please know that the person with "depth" that you know and love is STILL in here...but this blog may be a little shallow and narrow minded and stereo-typish.   And mom, I know you check in from time to time as well and I said I didn't care.  Well, for all of you...I ask you to accept this blog for what it is...a momentary rant about a newly found/understood opinion on something I never really even thought to have an opinion on before but happen to think I'm right as usual type of thingy.  Whew...onward we go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SO, I'm almost officially divorced.  Matter of days now.  This seems to invite questions about my willingness, anticipation, desire to start dating.  The EASY answer is...I'm not dating and I've got plenty to keep me busy without dating and I don't have an absolute answer for your questions because I just don't know and I don't sit around planning it out.  THAT SAID...I have developed an opinion.  I'll probably get raked over the coals by a few ppl for this opinion, but that's all it is.  An opinion. Maybe even a little rant?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SO, I'm thinking that a single 28 year old man is probably more mature than a single 38 year old man.  &lt;strong&gt;Yep, I said it.&lt;/strong&gt;  Or at least that's what I've been observing.  Here's my theory.  A 28 year old man is kinda at that age that he's probably not been married before, but he's totally ready and wants the American Dream.  He's a "man" now and ready to settle down in career, family, etc.  Well, the 38 year old "single" men are probably divorced, probably don't have their children living with them and have probably re-entered the club scene.  It's easy for them.  They don't have the same responsibilies as before. (Now, I'm not trying to make light of them not having their kids, that's a whole 'nother blog and it makes me sad. Stick to subject at hand.)  They're like over-grown little boys at recess...only I guess that little boys at recess aren't ending the night having sex with random women -or women that you know "really well" because you've been chatting on myspace or hanging at the clubs 3 whole weeks together.  &lt;strong&gt;YES, I said that too!&lt;/strong&gt;  And on that note, just because you have sex with one woman for 2 months and had a "real" relationship before changing women in a week doesn't make you any less of a ho. (None of this is even mentioning the ego-entrancing attention they get from younger women.  Um, can you guys say "sugah-daddy" LOL. I'm pretty sure if I get attention from a younger guy he's not thinking I can support his artificial nail and shoe fetish.)  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's some kind of notion that just because a woman is divorced she will be free to re-enter club/and/or dating scene as well.  Gotta admit, I LOVE to dance, I LOVE to hang out with friends, I LOVE to laugh, and if I'm there, I &lt;strong&gt;guarantee&lt;/strong&gt; I'll be the life of the party and you won't want me to leave.  But I will.  And chances are I won't be there.  I'm a mom.  I'm an adult. I have responsibilities that involve others than myself and I kinda value relationships at a different level. As much fun as a night out may be, I'll get over it.  I won't need to do it every other night or even every week.  I'm in a different league and not going backwards.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SO...does this mean that I eventually find a 28 year old man &lt;em&gt;(not 22-25, because they're still kids and have invented this word MILF which I have been called many  times and I don't like to be called names so there...&lt;/em&gt;)?  Simple answer is &lt;strong&gt;NO&lt;/strong&gt;...it just means I have a newly-found opinion.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8479446151915312918-279001579465721377?l=accordionme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/feeds/279001579465721377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8479446151915312918&amp;postID=279001579465721377' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/279001579465721377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/279001579465721377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/2008/04/i-have-opinionread-at-your-own-risk.html' title='I have an opinion...read at your own risk.'/><author><name>Jules</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03678984924454560309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SExf4mw3KqI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iPop61b0WIA/S220/DSC02646.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479446151915312918.post-6788245349273709646</id><published>2008-03-27T22:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-27T22:40:35.390-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Told ya so!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'&gt;&lt;A HREF='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/R-xosVQQ_RI/AAAAAAAAADo/Ks35olTv14o/s1600-h/SANY0648.JPG'&gt;&lt;IMG SRC='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/R-xosVQQ_RI/AAAAAAAAADo/Ks35olTv14o/s160/SANY0648.JPG' border=0 alt='' id='BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_' &gt;&lt;/A&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'&gt;&lt;A HREF='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/R-xosVQQ_SI/AAAAAAAAADw/-wdolftcFX4/s1600-h/SANY0650.JPG'&gt;&lt;IMG SRC='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/R-xosVQQ_SI/AAAAAAAAADw/-wdolftcFX4/s160/SANY0650.JPG' border=0 alt='' id='BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_' &gt;&lt;/A&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'&gt;&lt;A HREF='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/R-xoslQQ_TI/AAAAAAAAAD4/faOeoxIho_I/s1600-h/DSC02558.JPG'&gt;&lt;IMG SRC='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/R-xoslQQ_TI/AAAAAAAAAD4/faOeoxIho_I/s160/DSC02558.JPG' border=0 alt='' id='BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_' &gt;&lt;/A&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'&gt;&lt;A HREF='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/R-xos1QQ_UI/AAAAAAAAAEA/gu9f1cd_qFg/s1600-h/DSC02556.JPG'&gt;&lt;IMG SRC='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/R-xos1QQ_UI/AAAAAAAAAEA/gu9f1cd_qFg/s160/DSC02556.JPG' border=0 alt='' id='BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_' &gt;&lt;/A&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style='clear:both; text-align:CENTER'&gt;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8479446151915312918-6788245349273709646?l=accordionme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/feeds/6788245349273709646/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8479446151915312918&amp;postID=6788245349273709646' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/6788245349273709646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/6788245349273709646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/2008/03/told-ya-so_8923.html' title='Told ya so!'/><author><name>Jules</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03678984924454560309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SExf4mw3KqI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iPop61b0WIA/S220/DSC02646.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/R-xosVQQ_RI/AAAAAAAAADo/Ks35olTv14o/s72-c/SANY0648.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479446151915312918.post-6639998224652727771</id><published>2008-03-27T19:03:00.010-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-27T23:03:23.452-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Things MY kids say...part 1 (revised edition)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/R-w5uFQQ_EI/AAAAAAAAACA/fIfTKZHdKxU/s1600-h/SANY0443.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/R-w5uFQQ_EI/AAAAAAAAACA/fIfTKZHdKxU/s320/SANY0443.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182580735043763266" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;TONGUES&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mom, how do you do that taco tongue thing?"  (Followed by tongues hanging out of mouths and them not believing me that you can either do it or not...which I can.  They can't.  No matter how hard they try.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mom, can you touch your nose with your tongue?"  (No, nor do I want to.  But Aunt Jenny can.  Followed by more tongues hanging out of mouths pointed skyward.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAIR&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mom, I'm 10 years old and you're still fixing my hair!  Are you going to do it when I'm 23?"  (Growl, well if she'd fix it RIGHT...ok, nvr. mind, she wins, point made.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mom, I'm not cuttin my hair this winter.  I need it to help me hibernate."  (Followed by Kaleigh's lesson in the fact that bears do not really hibernate...what are they teaching these kids these days?...and newly spring cut hair!  Yay, that shag mop had to go!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;BODY PARTS&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While watching the stupidest-most-retardedest-movie-ever-created-and-I-got-to-say-"I told you so"-tonight...(Oh, that movie would be Monster House)...the 10 yr. old informed me that the chandelier was supposed to represent the boxing bag thingy at the back of your throat, to which the 7 year old corrected her by rolling his eyes and saying it was the "ooogula"!!! To which mom replied you mean the "uvula" to which both kids replied in unison "Who cares!"  To which mom thought to herself...exactly!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7 year old returns from playdate and decides to refer to his maleness as his WEINER, which mom thinks is an ick word and says so.  "Mom!  I just meant it like the weiner dog!"  To which 10 yr. old corrects while rolling HER eyes...the PC term is dachshund!  To which now 7 yr. old maleness is termed the "dachshund", to which mom just rolls her eyes and thinks NVR mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;TIME&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm coming."  "I'll be there in a minute." "I SAID I was coming!"  (Followed by my lecture of how we are not in Jamaica.  If I am in Jamaica and they say "No problem" and it takes 45 minutes to get my drink, it's OK.  That's Jamaica TIME.  We are in Missouri.  And when it takes 45 minutes to walk down the stairs and put your shoes on, you are NOT COMING and it's been more than a MINUTE!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"MOOOOOM, you said we could go do something fun today!!!"  (Followed by "the day is not over.  I'm cooooming in a minute...")&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;LINGO&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(After 7 year old misses basket...) "OH, for the LOOOVE OF CRUUUUUD!"  (Followed by mom saying "watch your mouth")&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(10 year old dancing in the kitchen singing) "She turned around and gave that big booty a smack, she hit the flo, next thing you know, shawty got low low low low low low low"  (Followed by mom saying "sing something else"...which 10 yr. old replied, it's the beeest...it's the booty song...."  UGH)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom responses are met with the likes of "Didn't you ever say anything your parents didn't like?"  Or, "What kind of music did you used to listen to?"  UM, &lt;strong&gt;NUNYA&lt;/strong&gt;, ok.  (No duh, like, fer sure, totally awesome, dude.  I was so way bitchin, my momma didn't know what I was talking about half the time.  And I didn't know all the words to Prince's Darling Nikki either ya skanks!  LOL)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;DRUMS&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, not really a topic at all.  But when the kids yell, "MOOOOM, you can't play the drums"  I yell, Yes I can (crash cymbal), Yes I can (roll snare roll snare roll snare), YES I CAN!!!!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rock on....when they grab the sticks, I go plug in guitar hero.  Hey, if you can't beat them (which happens to be illegal), join 'em.  More fun anyway....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8479446151915312918-6639998224652727771?l=accordionme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/feeds/6639998224652727771/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8479446151915312918&amp;postID=6639998224652727771' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/6639998224652727771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/6639998224652727771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/2008/03/things-my-kids-saypart-1.html' title='Things MY kids say...part 1 (revised edition)'/><author><name>Jules</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03678984924454560309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SExf4mw3KqI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iPop61b0WIA/S220/DSC02646.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/R-w5uFQQ_EI/AAAAAAAAACA/fIfTKZHdKxU/s72-c/SANY0443.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479446151915312918.post-4863296558274398519</id><published>2008-03-22T12:59:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-22T13:28:06.163-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Good Friday...more than See's</title><content type='html'>OK, so I've had a few comments that maybe Friday's candy blog down-played the "goodness" of Good Friday.  Um, being the crazed busy woman I am at the moment, I take my days in sections.  I had not gotten to "Good Friday" section of Friday when I posted the See's blog.  I was still working on the coffee pot I think and chocolate raided my home.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BUT, thankfully, I DID tune in to Good Friday and went to service last night.  It was a very worshipful evening.  I went alone, but ran into a few good buddies and was able to have fellowship AND alone time at the same time.  Does that make sense?  Anyhow, we were able to worship together and take time to reflect on the duality of the sadness and goodness the day represented.  The day our Savior died on the cross for our sins.  The day we were forever forgiven. There was some strong conviction happening.  We've been in a series titled "Comfy".  Basically, as Christians we can tend to like our cross as long as it's "comfy"...coated in pillows all soft and fluffy, all the lovey dovey verses in Scripture; leaving out the tough stuff.  But the truth is, it's a narrow road that few will take. Hmm, eeks, I really do like that there is grace available along that road.  REALLY REALLY. For me, there was a lot of reflection happening.  I had time to really search my heart on this "forgiveness" idea.  I've wrestled with that one over the years.  Long ago, I wasn't sure if I could forgive myself for some things (or forgive others for things done to me for that matter).  Letting go of things wasn't my specialty and I had a hard time moving forward from mistakes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone got in my face one time (a Christian friend) and put it this way: "Do you believe Jesus has forgiven you?"  In my fully accepting, new Christian enthusiasm, I replied "yes."  To that was this response: "Then is it not arrogant of you NOT to forgive YOURSELF knowing what HE has done to forgive you and wash away your sins."  OK, point made.  SO...I've thought of that many times over the years when letting things go that I've done wrong.  In turn is true repentance (hopefully)...don't do it again, right. That's the hard part...anyone with me on this?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANYHOW, Friday WAS good.  It was a sincere time of reflection.  I hope that you took (or will take) time to reflect on the duality of Christ's suffering and goodness. On His love and forgiveness towards us. I am gonna take time to hug and love my kids and consider the things I am thankful for and the life I've been given and new life available to all. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OH, and if ya wanna see some serious questions to help ya ponder your walk this week, ck out scarlettomato:  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;RR, here's the 2 I picked out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;_Would a non-religious person know from your decisions if you were Christian? If you were religious? What would they think?&lt;br /&gt;_Did Adam and Eve have belly buttons?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Question #1: Um, I don't consider myself "religious"...I consider myself a Christian, but the word "religious" kinda has a negative vibe to it that I steer from?  BUT, in answer to the question...maybe, maybe not.  (That was deep huh.  But I'm pondering it...fyi).&lt;br /&gt;Question #2: I don't know, all my picture books show them covered in leaves, so I can't see the belly button area...Let me know what you come up with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peace out and Happy Easter!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8479446151915312918-4863296558274398519?l=accordionme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/feeds/4863296558274398519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8479446151915312918&amp;postID=4863296558274398519' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/4863296558274398519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/4863296558274398519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/2008/03/good-fridaymore-than-sees.html' title='Good Friday...more than See&apos;s'/><author><name>Jules</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03678984924454560309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SExf4mw3KqI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iPop61b0WIA/S220/DSC02646.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479446151915312918.post-545818737480190567</id><published>2008-03-21T17:05:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-21T17:07:45.092-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Good time for an Ark?</title><content type='html'>Should we build one?  Anyone else having '93 flashbacks?  Guess the kiddos and I won't be spending Easter with family. &lt;strong&gt;:( &lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Although we could say we are going to an island for Easter if we did...but, we don't have a plane, boat, or helicopter.)  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope ya'll stay safe and DON'T go in the water!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8479446151915312918-545818737480190567?l=accordionme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/feeds/545818737480190567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8479446151915312918&amp;postID=545818737480190567' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/545818737480190567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/545818737480190567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/2008/03/good-time-for-ark.html' title='Good time for an Ark?'/><author><name>Jules</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03678984924454560309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SExf4mw3KqI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iPop61b0WIA/S220/DSC02646.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479446151915312918.post-7960334712862330694</id><published>2008-03-21T10:46:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-21T10:54:03.258-05:00</updated><title type='text'>SEE-in the good in today...</title><content type='html'>Today is starting out well...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, well, back up...started out typical and uneventful.  Woke up to find kiddos watching a movie.  Had big ol headache and took Tylenol and pot of coffee.  Did laundry.  Packed a handful more boxes.  THEN....and this is where it gets really really good...the UPS man came.  Unexpectedly, so it worried me a little (I don't know why?), but worries were soon alleviated when the envelope on the box was opened.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um, I love my mommy.  Special delivery....SEE's candy...my childhood fave (yep, I'm a California baby).  Never have I received SEE's for Easter.  It's a Christmas tradition.  And this year, I didn't "do" many Christmas traditions...so no SEE's candy.  YAY...I needed this.  (Um, if familiar with SEE's, we got a whole box of mixed suckers and an Easter tin filled with mixed chocolate chewy version!  If unfamiliar...they have a web-site, I'm pro'ly not sharin.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OH YES, it's a good day.  (Kell, I can lose that extra 20 after this box of candy is gone!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8479446151915312918-7960334712862330694?l=accordionme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/feeds/7960334712862330694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8479446151915312918&amp;postID=7960334712862330694' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/7960334712862330694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/7960334712862330694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/2008/03/see-in-good-in-today.html' title='SEE-in the good in today...'/><author><name>Jules</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03678984924454560309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SExf4mw3KqI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iPop61b0WIA/S220/DSC02646.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479446151915312918.post-4052103484661784614</id><published>2008-03-20T13:27:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-20T13:29:10.391-05:00</updated><title type='text'>thinkin'</title><content type='html'>March 8th was a sad day...even if it was for the better.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today's not so sad though...moreso, more-like, PRODUCTIVE.  SO...so much for sad...I'll leave that for random moments of "just thinkin'"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8479446151915312918-4052103484661784614?l=accordionme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/feeds/4052103484661784614/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8479446151915312918&amp;postID=4052103484661784614' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/4052103484661784614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/4052103484661784614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/2008/03/thinkin.html' title='thinkin&apos;'/><author><name>Jules</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03678984924454560309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SExf4mw3KqI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iPop61b0WIA/S220/DSC02646.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479446151915312918.post-7460156506497929621</id><published>2008-03-19T10:53:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T11:59:31.233-05:00</updated><title type='text'>THIRTEEN</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/R-E-6LrLjUI/AAAAAAAAABo/YXsmNbGQ5ck/s1600-h/13.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/R-E-6LrLjUI/AAAAAAAAABo/YXsmNbGQ5ck/s320/13.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5179490215740017986" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;13 Years today...anyone seeing any irony in this?  (Depends upon if 13 is a lucky or unlucky number to you I guess).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8479446151915312918-7460156506497929621?l=accordionme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/feeds/7460156506497929621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8479446151915312918&amp;postID=7460156506497929621' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/7460156506497929621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/7460156506497929621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/2008/03/13.html' title='THIRTEEN'/><author><name>Jules</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03678984924454560309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SExf4mw3KqI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iPop61b0WIA/S220/DSC02646.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/R-E-6LrLjUI/AAAAAAAAABo/YXsmNbGQ5ck/s72-c/13.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479446151915312918.post-44854681520664641</id><published>2008-03-18T10:42:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-18T11:00:44.374-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Inertia and Brick Walls</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/R9_jl7rLjTI/AAAAAAAAABg/82_6iBG8zRE/s1600-h/brick+wall.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/R9_jl7rLjTI/AAAAAAAAABg/82_6iBG8zRE/s320/brick+wall.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5179108337312828722" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Brick Walls&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, this past Sunday at church we had a sermon that I guess spoke to me because I've still been thinking about it.  That's a good thing, because unfortunately, I haven't been letting much "speak to me" lately.  Just handling things on my own I guess.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;INERTIA = 1. The reisistence an object has to a change in its state of motion. 2. The tendency of an object in motion to stay in motion and an object at rest to stay at rest unless acted upon by some external force.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what?  So, first of all, I wish I'd had a 6th grade science teacher that is as cool as the guy that did the explanation of inertia.  He rocked it.  But so what?  What does it have to do with anything that I'm struggling with and why am I still thinking about it?  As cool as his roller blade trick was...it's not what I keep thinking about.  Gods plan, and I'm thinking most people would agree that it's a pretty good plan, is for us to stay on forward motion.  Continually growing. I've been questioning what my "resistence" is.  What is the friction that is causing me to slow down in life?  What are the "brick walls" in my life and why do I seem to allow a pattern of slamming my head against them instead of busting through that window and not looking back?  Hmm....just pondering.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess ultimately it's sin at the root of all the brick walls...not people.  My sin, their sin...circumstances, sin, Satan.  But yeppers, we're responsible.  Romans 7:18-23.  Just a little inner struggle happening.  But hey...at least I'm thinking of considering contemplating dealing with facing the stuff....that's a step right.  Might not get me busted through that window...but it's a step.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8479446151915312918-44854681520664641?l=accordionme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/feeds/44854681520664641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8479446151915312918&amp;postID=44854681520664641' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/44854681520664641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/44854681520664641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/2008/03/brick-wall-so-this-past-sunday-at.html' title='Inertia and Brick Walls'/><author><name>Jules</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03678984924454560309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SExf4mw3KqI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iPop61b0WIA/S220/DSC02646.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/R9_jl7rLjTI/AAAAAAAAABg/82_6iBG8zRE/s72-c/brick+wall.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479446151915312918.post-8509900853531965431</id><published>2008-03-17T16:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-17T16:53:07.937-05:00</updated><title type='text'>10th Spirtitual Gift</title><content type='html'>A friend sent the following to me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Gift of Good-bye.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are people who can walk away from you.&lt;br /&gt;And hear me when I tell you this!&lt;br /&gt;When people can walk away from you: let them walk.&lt;br /&gt;I don't want you to try to talk another person into staying with you, &lt;br /&gt;loving you, calling you, caring about you, coming to see you, staying&lt;br /&gt;attached to you.&lt;br /&gt;I mean hang up the phone.&lt;br /&gt;When people can walk away from you let them walk.&lt;br /&gt;Your destiny is never tied to anybody that left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bible said that, They came out from us that it might be made manifest that they were not for us. For had they been of us, no doubt they would have continued with us. [1John 2:19]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People leave you because they are not joined to you. And if they are&lt;br /&gt;not joined to you, you can't make them stay. Let them go.&lt;br /&gt;And it doesn't mean that they are a bad person, it just means that their&lt;br /&gt;part in the story is over. And you've got to know when people's part&lt;br /&gt;in your story is over so that you don't keep trying to raise the dead.&lt;br /&gt;You've got to know when it's dead. You've got to know when it's over.&lt;br /&gt;Let me tell you something. I've got the gift of good-bye. It's the&lt;br /&gt;tenth spiritual gift, I believe in good-bye. It's not that I'm hateful,&lt;br /&gt;it's that I'm faithful, and I know whatever God means for me to have,&lt;br /&gt;He'll give it to me. And if it takes too much sweat I don't need it.&lt;br /&gt;Stop begging people to stay.&lt;br /&gt;Let them go!!&lt;br /&gt;If you are holding on to something that doesn't belong to you and was&lt;br /&gt;never intended for your life, then you need to ..&lt;br /&gt;LET IT GO!!!&lt;br /&gt;If you are holding on to past hurts and pains .. &lt;br /&gt;LET IT GO!!!&lt;br /&gt;If someone can't treat you right, love you back, and see your worth...&lt;br /&gt;LET IT GO!!!&lt;br /&gt;If someone has angered you ..&lt;br /&gt;LET IT GO!!!&lt;br /&gt;If you are holding on to some thoughts of evil and revenge ..&lt;br /&gt;LET IT GO!!!&lt;br /&gt;If you are involved in a wrong relationship or addiction ..&lt;br /&gt;LET IT GO!!!&lt;br /&gt;If you are holding on to a job that no longer meets your needs or&lt;br /&gt;talents .. &lt;br /&gt;LET IT GO!!!&lt;br /&gt;If you have a bad attitude...&lt;br /&gt;LET IT GO!!!&lt;br /&gt;If you keep judging others to make yourself feel better...&lt;br /&gt;LET IT GO!!!&lt;br /&gt;If you're stuck in the past and God is trying to take you to a new&lt;br /&gt;level in Him...&lt;br /&gt;LET IT GO!!!&lt;br /&gt;If you are struggling with the healing of a broken relationship....&lt;br /&gt;LET IT GO!!!&lt;br /&gt;If you keep trying to help someone who won't even try to help themselves.. &lt;br /&gt;LET IT GO!!!&lt;br /&gt;If you're feeling depressed and stressed ... &lt;br /&gt;LET IT GO!!!&lt;br /&gt;If there is a particular situation that you are so used to handling&lt;br /&gt;yourself and God is saying "take your hands off of it," then you need to... &lt;br /&gt;LET IT GO!!!&lt;br /&gt;Let the past be the past. Forget the former things.&lt;br /&gt;GOD is doing a new thing for 2008!!! &lt;br /&gt;LET IT GO!!!&lt;br /&gt;Get Right or Get Left .. think about it, and then &lt;br /&gt;LET IT GO!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8479446151915312918-8509900853531965431?l=accordionme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/feeds/8509900853531965431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8479446151915312918&amp;postID=8509900853531965431' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/8509900853531965431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/8509900853531965431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/2008/03/10th-spirtitual-gift.html' title='10th Spirtitual Gift'/><author><name>Jules</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03678984924454560309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SExf4mw3KqI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iPop61b0WIA/S220/DSC02646.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479446151915312918.post-1362028895091017705</id><published>2008-03-15T13:23:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-15T13:29:36.830-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dork=Stupid</title><content type='html'>&lt;A HREF='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/R9wUK7rLjSI/AAAAAAAAABM/MODGOO9sfU4/s1600-h/DSC02508.JPG'&gt;&lt;IMG SRC='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/R9wUK7rLjSI/AAAAAAAAABM/MODGOO9sfU4/s320/DSC02508.JPG' border=0 alt='' id='BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_' style='clear:both;float:left; margin:0px 10px 10px 0;'&gt;&lt;/A&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;dork–noun Slang. 1. a stupid or ridiculous person &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Call me a Dork.  Go ahead...do it.  It's truer than I ever thought!  There's a part 2 to this in my head.  Having to do with another person and the 1964 alteration definition of dork.  Nvr. mind...    &lt;div style='clear:both; text-align:LEFT'&gt;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8479446151915312918-1362028895091017705?l=accordionme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/feeds/1362028895091017705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8479446151915312918&amp;postID=1362028895091017705' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/1362028895091017705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/1362028895091017705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/2008/03/call-me-dork.html' title='Dork=Stupid'/><author><name>Jules</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03678984924454560309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SExf4mw3KqI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iPop61b0WIA/S220/DSC02646.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/R9wUK7rLjSI/AAAAAAAAABM/MODGOO9sfU4/s72-c/DSC02508.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479446151915312918.post-3863118966036027806</id><published>2008-03-14T10:56:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-14T11:24:00.465-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Marilyn Monroe quotes...why...I dunno.</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;'Cuz I felt like it and I'm on break from packing...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm selfish,impatient and a little insecure.  I make mistakes, I am out of control, and at times hard to handle, but if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell can't handle me at my best."  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I believe that everything happens for a reaon.  People change so that you can learn to let go, things go wrong so that you can learn to appreciate them when they're right, you believe lies to that eventually you learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together."  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Dogs never bite me. Just humans."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's better to be unhappy alone than unhappy with someone - so far." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A career is wonderful thing, but you can't snuggle up to it on a cold night."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Being a sex symbol is a heavy load to carry, especially when one is tired, hurt and bewildered."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm very definitely a woman and I enjoy it."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8479446151915312918-3863118966036027806?l=accordionme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/feeds/3863118966036027806/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8479446151915312918&amp;postID=3863118966036027806' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/3863118966036027806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/3863118966036027806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/2008/03/marilyn-monroe-quoteswhyi-dunno.html' title='Marilyn Monroe quotes...why...I dunno.'/><author><name>Jules</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03678984924454560309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SExf4mw3KqI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iPop61b0WIA/S220/DSC02646.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479446151915312918.post-6641842570998070019</id><published>2008-01-04T16:14:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-04T16:47:27.080-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Hawt or NAWT!</title><content type='html'>I've been looking forward to today.  Normally, the event at hand wouldn't excite me.  In fact, normally it is a frustration that causes worry, takes a lot of funds and ends up taking way, way too long.  But today, I was more than up for it.  Yep, I needed my hair cut (and colored, that's part of the deal...always)!  Bad.  I'd put it off, put it off and put it off.  Um, yea, I found out that I do actually have a few gray hairs. (Reasons for those grays are another blog that I've opted to not write yet). No woman should have to find out that they might have a few gray hairs. (Unless of course you're a new Dove model and embracing your natural old beauty...) That's what hair color is FOR....duh!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, having hair as dark as mine presents a whole set of challenges for the everyday stylist. (Most of you don't actually know that my hair is WAY darker naturally than you've ever seen it.  But to try to re-capture that look usually just results in an Elvira-ish sorta appearance.  SO, I opt to call my "natural" shade 'chocolate'.  Really it's more like, tar....) If not done correctly, my highlights will turn a lovely brassy pumpkin-ish color. And there's the afore-mentioned Elvira-ish look to be wary of.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SO, I do not trust my hair to the "every day stylist".  Nope...only the "master" stylist is allowed near my strands. (You know the master stylist...the one that charges 3 times as much as the every day stylist).  My favorite 'girl' left me last year.  She wanted to become a nurse; not to heal people, but to "care" for them.  Well, what about my hair...beeycotch!  OK, kidding.  She's a fabulous person.  But after wondering aimlessly for months and surviving many a trial and error, I thought I'd finally fallen into good hands.  Until today.  Until MY hair day.  My "looking forward to getting my hair cut" hair day.  GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Directions:  "Do the same thing you did last time, and trim it good."  That was replied with "Oh, you will be so happy, we changed hair color products and it's great!"  UM, YIIIKERS!  Nightmare to my ears! When she followed that with the fact that the color order hadn't come in and she didn't have my 4N IN, but she was "sure I'd LOVE what she was gonna do"-I should've went running.  But nope, it's "my hair cut day", what can really go wrong?  (Um, I KNOW what can go wrong, so what was I ON when I didn't opt to run?)  SO, more directions by me:  "OK, but I am trying to down-size my up-keep on this.  Tuck the partial highlights sparingly under so re-growth doesn't show.  Stay with one color high-light and make sure the base is dark enough so roots don't show."  You guys got that right.  It's pretty clear.  I'm pretty clear!  I'm THINKIN'! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, my base will look the same to all of you...but I'm not you.  I'm me and I know that my roots are gonna come in darker and it's gonna bug the HE - "double L" outta me.  AND, oh, this is the best part.  I now know that I really could be blonde.  Not brassy pumpkin today...Nope, closer to platinum blonde.  Highlights. Not sparingly.  Everywhere.  You know the look.  The "dark hair with bad 70's flashback 'frosted' highlights lookin skunk-ish that the 20-er-something-ish crowd has decided is attractive but is not-look"!    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looooooooooooooooooong(er story than this even....); I now look like a hairstylist.  And folks, that aint the look I was going for.  Breydan LOVES it; Kaleigh hated it but after I messed with it, she's declared me HAWT (thanks for new sp yellek)...&lt;br /&gt;Great, HAWT like a hair dresser just coming from hair show hot.  Just what I was going for.  NAWT!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(And I totally spared you guys the fact that it's now 2 inches shorter!  That's another blog...that I'll never write.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8479446151915312918-6641842570998070019?l=accordionme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/feeds/6641842570998070019/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8479446151915312918&amp;postID=6641842570998070019' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/6641842570998070019'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/6641842570998070019'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/2008/01/hawt-or-nawt.html' title='Hawt or NAWT!'/><author><name>Jules</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03678984924454560309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SExf4mw3KqI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iPop61b0WIA/S220/DSC02646.JPG'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479446151915312918.post-857291823824979267</id><published>2007-12-07T09:53:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-07T09:55:14.963-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Chargers</title><content type='html'>Um, chargers.  Game on ladies...anyone a taker on this blog.  That was FUNNY! Silly D.Reddin.  You're TOO FUNNY!  Good stuff.  Fantastic hanging out with everyone.  Chargers and all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8479446151915312918-857291823824979267?l=accordionme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/feeds/857291823824979267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8479446151915312918&amp;postID=857291823824979267' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/857291823824979267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/857291823824979267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/2007/12/chargers.html' title='Chargers'/><author><name>Jules</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03678984924454560309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SExf4mw3KqI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iPop61b0WIA/S220/DSC02646.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479446151915312918.post-2019502931609324171</id><published>2007-12-04T16:18:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-04T16:38:26.572-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Some things never change</title><content type='html'>As much as I'd like them to.  Who else does this?  Does anyone else screw things up right at the good part? Seems to be a trend in my life.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could be talking about things like baking apple pie.  You know, get the perfect crust recipe and master it, have the most beautiful dish to form it into, slice the apples perfectly and not even take the entire day to do it, use real cinnamon ground by you, and the top crust fits perfectly; no trying to stretch edges to meet.  Just perfect.  The oven is preheated and the foil in on bottom so it doesn't ruin the oven when it starts bubbling over perfectly.  Everything's good right.  Then you trip on the rug and drop it on the floor before you make it to the oven.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I've never baked an apple pie.  So, that's not really what I'm talking about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe something like writing the perfect manuscript for publication.  The 1st draft is always shitty.  I read that in a book otherwise I surely wouldn't have said it QUITE like that :)  (Thanks K, lol)  But this draft isn't half bad.  You know you've got a good concept and it only needs grammatical editing and a little tweaking here and there before it seems ready to submit.  One publisher (out of the 232 you sent it to) responds on your first query.  All's good.  And then you can't find the envelope to see which publisher responded.  That would suck.  But I haven't sent a query letter in years.  So, that's not it either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I do pretty much hate when I mess things up when they start getting good.  Whatever I'm talking about.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8479446151915312918-2019502931609324171?l=accordionme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/feeds/2019502931609324171/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8479446151915312918&amp;postID=2019502931609324171' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/2019502931609324171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/2019502931609324171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/2007/12/some-things-never-change.html' title='Some things never change'/><author><name>Jules</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03678984924454560309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SExf4mw3KqI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iPop61b0WIA/S220/DSC02646.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479446151915312918.post-7695348893151077966</id><published>2007-11-28T18:41:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-28T18:58:13.139-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Haiku-ish for Blue is a Circle</title><content type='html'>Soft blanket of snow&lt;br /&gt;the wind is now in my hair&lt;br /&gt;I love this season&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;(um, yea, are you smarter than a 4th grader.  Didn't comment you Kell if you're reading this.  Cuz I forgot what the heck Haiku is.  Then it was one of my daughters spelling words...so she wanted to post her Haiku just for you.  lol  That's the one above.  Here's my go.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blue is a circle&lt;br /&gt;chocolate is two syllables &lt;br /&gt;according to you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;yea ok, well I"m not too good at this...lol&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;OK, another from my girl:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ears ringing loudly&lt;br /&gt;love the sound of good music&lt;br /&gt;rap is not my thing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;one more from me:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;music speaks to me&lt;br /&gt;takes me away from it all&lt;br /&gt;or brownies will work &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Haiku master dorks Kaleigh and Julieout&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8479446151915312918-7695348893151077966?l=accordionme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/feeds/7695348893151077966/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8479446151915312918&amp;postID=7695348893151077966' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/7695348893151077966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/7695348893151077966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/2007/11/haiku-ish-for-blue-is-circle.html' title='Haiku-ish for Blue is a Circle'/><author><name>Jules</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03678984924454560309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SExf4mw3KqI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iPop61b0WIA/S220/DSC02646.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479446151915312918.post-5500142441028620354</id><published>2007-11-17T11:40:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-17T11:48:44.239-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I like basketball...who knew...and hot tubs</title><content type='html'>Well, I guess I always knew...but never acted on the hunch.  Too busy socializing :)  Anyhow, a neighbor recently donated his basketball goal to us.  Yay!  So, me and my girlie have had a pretty good day.  We started in the hot tub.  Duh, that thing sits there everyday, why hadn't I done that in like...forever.  Mental note...make a date with the hot tub each morning after dropping off kids.  (Yea, rough huh).  Anyhow, we stayed in there until we decided we were light headed and got out.  Then after cooling down we decided to play ball.  &lt;br /&gt; That was fun.  I'm not as horrible as I should/could be for not having played...ever really...or picked up a ball in a million years.  And I kinda know HOW to hold the ball, shoot the ball, some rules to the game.  I was able to share with my girl and she really started picking it up.  Before long she was making most of her shots.  We worked on some passing and she's not scared of the ball so much now. (Almost jammed her finger...I remember as a kid, this guy Khris Brane lived down the street and we'd play ball at each others houses...I broke my finger when he passed it at me.  OUCH.  Had a flashback.)  Anyhow, it's been a good day.  I actually felt like I was teaching my girl something.  She's 10, so she already knows EVERYTHING.  But today she learned something new and I had a great time hanging out with her.  The last bad rebound ended up with the ball rolling about 2 blocks down the street...so yea, we quit after that.  &lt;br /&gt; Now we're gonna paint our nails and quit doing boy stuff :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8479446151915312918-5500142441028620354?l=accordionme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/feeds/5500142441028620354/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8479446151915312918&amp;postID=5500142441028620354' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/5500142441028620354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/5500142441028620354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/2007/11/i-like-basketballwho-knewand-hot-tubs.html' title='I like basketball...who knew...and hot tubs'/><author><name>Jules</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03678984924454560309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SExf4mw3KqI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iPop61b0WIA/S220/DSC02646.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479446151915312918.post-3115160698590372921</id><published>2007-11-11T21:36:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-11T21:41:20.404-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Friendly suburbia walks</title><content type='html'>Who new there were so many creepy critters and bugs galavanting around our suburbian neighborhoods in the dark of the night.  &lt;strong&gt;My&lt;/strong&gt; neighborhood to be precise.  I thought I'd go for this power walk tonight right.  I was hustling too, so I have no idea how I noticed all of these things.  The only thing I know is that if I saw all these things at the pace I was going, I'm pretty sure there was lots I missed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw a centipede that looked like it should live in Africa or something.  I saw about 6 toads.  I saw a spider that crawled right at me thru a crack. Looked like a freakin beast.  But the real kicker...a snake.  Oh yea, almost stepped right on him until I started my mid air walk.  Put Jordan to shame.  I think only a few people heard me scream. (It was a small snake, but does it really matter?  It was a snake!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to walk in the mornings.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8479446151915312918-3115160698590372921?l=accordionme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/feeds/3115160698590372921/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8479446151915312918&amp;postID=3115160698590372921' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/3115160698590372921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/3115160698590372921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/2007/11/friendly-suburbia-walks.html' title='Friendly suburbia walks'/><author><name>Jules</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03678984924454560309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SExf4mw3KqI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iPop61b0WIA/S220/DSC02646.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479446151915312918.post-8682696963660828429</id><published>2007-11-10T09:22:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-10T09:42:09.200-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Rollercoasters</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/RzXQxYvtgtI/AAAAAAAAABE/n_yM3WlnuQY/s1600-h/roller+coaster.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/RzXQxYvtgtI/AAAAAAAAABE/n_yM3WlnuQY/s200/roller+coaster.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131236897333281490" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is like riding a rollercoaster.  Isn't it?  I mean, I don't mean to sound all cliche' but it's true. And sometimes I'm not sure how much I like rollercoasters.  But it's pretty common knowledge that if you're too afraid to ride one, you're a wuss.  SO, I've ridden.  I'm not a wuss.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't dislike all parts of the roller coaster.  Sometimes the anticipation of what's to come is a thrill that makes me jump in line (You know, the part where you're going up up up for what seems like a million years and you feel brave during that part!). But there's no way of knowing exactly how the ride will make you feel afterwards.  That's the part that makes me "shake" while I'm in the line.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember as a kid going to Worlds of Fun in KC and riding the Orient Express (I know, it's a kids ride now probably, but back then, it was THE ride.)  I wasn't sure I wanted to ride.  But everyone else was.  I remember thinking everything thru in the line.  Analyzing the curves and how high it went and how far it FELL!  Then there was the upside down part.  I just closed my eyes during that.  It was &lt;em&gt;kinda&lt;/em&gt; fun though.  I just didn't like the uncertainty of how it would make me feel AFTER the ride.  Sometimes I'd be sick feeling after the ride.  And sorry I'd ridden.  Sometimes I was on a ridiculous high that made me giddy and I wanted to go conquer the world.  That's rollercoasters...That's life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The unknown can make you hesitant or it can drive everything in you to go forward.  I guess it's in attitude.  I've learned too that it also depends on what part of the roller coaster you're on.  I'm on the part where my hands are gripping the bar so hard that my knuckles are white and I've got the whole ride in front of me and it fills me with a million emotions. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But...I'm riding.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8479446151915312918-8682696963660828429?l=accordionme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/feeds/8682696963660828429/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8479446151915312918&amp;postID=8682696963660828429' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/8682696963660828429'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/8682696963660828429'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/2007/11/rollercoasters.html' title='Rollercoasters'/><author><name>Jules</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03678984924454560309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SExf4mw3KqI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iPop61b0WIA/S220/DSC02646.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/RzXQxYvtgtI/AAAAAAAAABE/n_yM3WlnuQY/s72-c/roller+coaster.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479446151915312918.post-5055333885156993155</id><published>2007-10-30T18:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-30T19:30:03.849-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tore its guts out</title><content type='html'>Orange, slimy, stringy, kinda stinky, juicy, meaty, icky, squishy, sorta cool....filled with yummy (or soon to be, once they're salted and toasted) seeds.&lt;br /&gt;  Yup, Pumpkin guts.&lt;br /&gt;Happy Halloween. &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/Rye58NtoqMI/AAAAAAAAAA8/cOZvhD5qiQ4/s1600-h/MineLit-m.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/Rye58NtoqMI/AAAAAAAAAA8/cOZvhD5qiQ4/s200/MineLit-m.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5127271144908957890" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/Rye5rttoqLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/joW87U-OZTs/s1600-h/Guts-m.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/Rye5rttoqLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/joW87U-OZTs/s400/Guts-m.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5127270861441116338" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8479446151915312918-5055333885156993155?l=accordionme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/feeds/5055333885156993155/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8479446151915312918&amp;postID=5055333885156993155' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/5055333885156993155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/5055333885156993155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/2007/10/guts.html' title='Tore its guts out'/><author><name>Jules</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03678984924454560309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SExf4mw3KqI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iPop61b0WIA/S220/DSC02646.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/Rye58NtoqMI/AAAAAAAAAA8/cOZvhD5qiQ4/s72-c/MineLit-m.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479446151915312918.post-7744167255763922318</id><published>2007-10-28T19:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-28T19:44:12.662-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dragons frustrate me</title><content type='html'>Or "beardies" as I guess they are &lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;affectionately&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; referred to.  Really, affection towards a lizard?  As much as I didn't think possible...I think I'll love the little guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, back up.  My sons birthday is coming up.  He announced he wants a lizard.  He's turning 7.  Now, for $6.99 you can get a green anole.  Or, you can catch one at mimi and grandpa's house for free.  But NO....those are "escape artists", "too fast to catch", "timid", and from a salespersons point of view "just not a great pet in general."  BUT, a $75 Bearded Dragon (beardie) is a "fabulous pet".  GRRR...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SO, now you know where my frustration began.  SO, I'm thinking, he's turning 7.  A nintendo DS would save us hoards of moula (considering the price to add on for UVB lights, night lights, flourescent lights, live food every day, stand, terrarium, hood, etc etc etc.  Heck, he could have the DS and a couple of 5 games!)  SO, I run this past him.  Oh yea, I struck a chord.  He was on it like a fly on...well, you get it.  But then, he gets a look outta the corner of his eye towards his dad and suddenly changes his mind.  "Nope, I want a lizard.  A bearded dragon!"  Reeeeaaally...(I'm sensing conspiracy now.  More frustration added.)  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, well, if we're going to get a lizard, it's fair to expect the conspirers (word?) to know about them and their care, right.  So, I quiz them.  Guess what.  They know NOTHING!  SO, I cannot in good conscience bring a living critter into this home without being able to properly care for it.  SO, I now can answer a few several dozen questions about lizards.  Go ahead, try me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll let ya know when the little guy arrives.  (I still have a little over a week until birthday...I accept prayers of "changin some minds".)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:)  Have a lovely dragon free day...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8479446151915312918-7744167255763922318?l=accordionme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/feeds/7744167255763922318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8479446151915312918&amp;postID=7744167255763922318' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/7744167255763922318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/7744167255763922318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/2007/10/dragons-frustrate-me.html' title='Dragons frustrate me'/><author><name>Jules</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03678984924454560309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SExf4mw3KqI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iPop61b0WIA/S220/DSC02646.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479446151915312918.post-761886180512325693</id><published>2007-10-24T11:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-24T12:02:04.233-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm not tone deaf after all</title><content type='html'>I've often times wished that I could sing.  Or play an instrument, or something.  Then I've wondered can I even "hear".  What if I'm tone deaf?  I mean, I know that I think that I hear, but what if I don't.  I mean that's what tone deafness is, right.  I wouldn't know, would I?  Then I got this video.  Yep, I am not tone deaf.  Good to know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I do like the hair do.  Mine did that really well (although not as well as all the other girls) back in 1986! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://video.msn.com/video.aspx?mkt=en-US&amp;brand=&amp;vid=a3376b98-a884-427f-bdb1-bb05671500dd" target="_new" title="Awful Star Wars Trumpet Solo"&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.stupidvideos.com/images/msn/Awful_Star_Wars_Trumpet_Solo.jpg" border=0 alt="Awful Star Wars Trumpet Solo" width=112 height=84&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Awful Star Wars Trumpet Solo&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8479446151915312918-761886180512325693?l=accordionme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/feeds/761886180512325693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8479446151915312918&amp;postID=761886180512325693' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/761886180512325693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/761886180512325693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/2007/10/im-not-tone-deaf-after-all.html' title='I&apos;m not tone deaf after all'/><author><name>Jules</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03678984924454560309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SExf4mw3KqI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iPop61b0WIA/S220/DSC02646.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479446151915312918.post-2200841448129698017</id><published>2007-10-23T20:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-23T21:17:55.278-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fundraisers</title><content type='html'>The doorbell again.  I'm &lt;strong&gt;not&lt;/strong&gt; expecting anyone.  Oh, &lt;em&gt;yes I am&lt;/em&gt;.  Another friendly face that I don't know selling me magazines or cookie dough.  And they promise to top it off by bringing me a copy of Entertainment for only $25.  Great, what a deal.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, one dad brought his 8 year old son back after my husband said "maybe later" (he was mowing at the time).  Not kidding, he brought him to my door, in the dark, in the RAIN, WALKING...to sell me boy scout popcorn for one million dollars a can-(that I've been told shouldn't even start until November).  When I tried to "politely decline" by letting him know I'd be supporting my own little dude's pack since he's just joining as well...he wasn't going to let me off the hook!  He let me know that it might not be the same items and he'd check back.  Um, ok.  I'm waiting for you....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't him.  This time it was wrapping paper.  And "they weren't sure what they were selling it for."  Great...I'll take the foil with the candy canes on it...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8479446151915312918-2200841448129698017?l=accordionme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/feeds/2200841448129698017/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8479446151915312918&amp;postID=2200841448129698017' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/2200841448129698017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/2200841448129698017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/2007/10/fundraisers.html' title='Fundraisers'/><author><name>Jules</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03678984924454560309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SExf4mw3KqI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iPop61b0WIA/S220/DSC02646.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479446151915312918.post-4944500722766926050</id><published>2007-10-17T18:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-17T18:37:15.346-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Our new pet</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/Rxaa0S9dpAI/AAAAAAAAAAk/Nt3Hgd6stL8/s1600-h/toe+biter.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/Rxaa0S9dpAI/AAAAAAAAAAk/Nt3Hgd6stL8/s400/toe+biter.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122451849414026242" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EEEWWWW!  Seriously.  Do I have to be ok with this?  And the irony is, get this, the BUG MAN was at my house spraying for spiders, which I abhor, when my husband and daughter laughingly ran into the home to chase me with this critter.  I screamed and then did my thing and got online to see what he is.  The initial plan was to take him to school to feed him to my daughter's classroom pet praying mantis!  Well, when I found out what a cool critter he is on his own, well, I created his own "pad" in the old hermit crab terrarium.  He's now called "pet bug".  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Oh, he's a Toe Biter bug.  Pretty scientific name, eh?  Or "Giant Water Bug".  Somehow he'd found himself on my husbands windshield.  Which brings me to fact one on this critter.  He is a strong flyer.  Um, KEEP THE LID SHUT!  Two, he eats worms and small fish (hey, we have one lone platy remaining from daughter's aquarium days...hmmm)and tadpoles.  Like I'm going to find a bunch of those around somewhere.  Well, we're gonna keep him for a few days.  Let him visit school and such and let him go on Monday.   That's the plan.  Oh, and yes, when I say "let him go", I still mean "feed him to the praying mantis".  That's how I roll.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8479446151915312918-4944500722766926050?l=accordionme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/feeds/4944500722766926050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8479446151915312918&amp;postID=4944500722766926050' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/4944500722766926050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/4944500722766926050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/2007/10/our-new-pet.html' title='Our new pet'/><author><name>Jules</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03678984924454560309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SExf4mw3KqI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iPop61b0WIA/S220/DSC02646.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/Rxaa0S9dpAI/AAAAAAAAAAk/Nt3Hgd6stL8/s72-c/toe+biter.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479446151915312918.post-5318399491770304266</id><published>2007-09-23T23:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-24T10:02:36.850-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Plaid Monkeys and Buns'/><title type='text'>Plaid Monkeys and Buns</title><content type='html'>This was actually written August 31st, but never posted here; &lt;br /&gt;  OK, so there's this awesome cool circus thing happening and I get to help coordinate it (only the largest outreach at my church for the year...but no pressure)! So many times we say "it's fine, God is in the details." But do we REALLY see Him revealing himself in the details? Do we take the time to even look? Or do we just say that because...we just say that... Well, God is definitely, truly in the details of this event getting ready to happen on Oct. 6th at Morning Star Church. SERIOUSLY...&lt;br /&gt;I've never posted a blog before, and I'm sure this won't be short..but I gotta get this out there...off my chest, outta my heart and into yours! I hope these little tid-bit stories will be inspiring for you if you are working on a project (or just trying to see God in the details of every day life). I hope I don't do such a lame job of telling you how cool these experiences have been that you don't even get the goosebumps or the understanding DEEP DOWN, that God IS in the details.&lt;br /&gt;OK, so we need a BIG event right. And there's WAY lots of details right. And I really have no experience doing something like this, so not the coolest picking it up at 8 weeks out and not knowing even where to begin...but God...SO, first off; the 1st two people I call say YES right off the bat, no hesitation. Enthusiastic yes's. Then we gotta get a sign up table and my good buddy just happens to be a great carpenter and we whip that baby out and it's impressive! BIG, but impressive. Then, we have a meeting and the few people that do show up are plugging in WELL! I feel like there's a little corporation thing happening, everyone's working on their part...just as it should be and everyone is very positive-that's SO good! SO, then we gotta get huge road side visibility out in couple weeks....great, where to begin on that and am I gonna blow the budget on signage. Well, I bring it up to my "top 2" to discuss and there's an ear within distance that shouldn't even be hearing this conversation right...well, YES SHE WAS (thank you God) supposed to hear it because she up and volunteered to coordinate with me on making it happen! I'm talking wood/frame/bearings all that stuff. I would have never approached her with this. Wouldn't have thunk it. GOD! :-)&lt;br /&gt;SO, we gotta have lots of donations for prizes and raffles and so I went to a few stops while out and about the other day and stopped in this children's hair place called the Plaid Monkey. Spoke with the girls working, and they said they'd pass it to their manager. Well, the next day she calls ME! (Donation world, you usually do follow-up work) She wants to come free of charge and have a table set up to do hair, sparkles and boys she can put purple and green hair gel to match our logo colors! The full 4 hours free! She'll decorate her table and all. She's totally excited to be a part of it! (will be way cool with the face painting and tattooing to add that table.) Um, God is in the plaid monkey?!&lt;br /&gt;OK, well we gotta have food too right! SO, donations hasn't been going well. The gal working on it is working HARD and getting good info on "best pricing"...but she decides to go outside of her comfort zone and ask her very ill bro-in-law if he can give her a connection at Wonder Bread to ask about buns. Well, she calls him and it ends up that this man goes to our church! He's been there since Feb. which is when she started attending as well and they had good conversation. He assured her he'd try for best price, but let her know that due to financial stuff, Wonder-Bread doesn't do ANY donations anymore...well, you know where I"m going! They prayed before they got off the phone (would I have done that?) and said good-bye with plans to talk on Tuesday. Well, she gets call just a few hours later and it's him saying he doesn't get it, but his boss just said "sure, we'll donate all 1500 hot dog buns they're requesting and send them the night before in trays so they don't get squashed." UM, thanks GOD!!!!&lt;br /&gt;You are maybe thinking right now that these are little things. WELL, my POINT exactly. GOD IS IN THE DETAILS!!!!!! Look for it and praise Him! DETAILS.....all of em! even plaid monkeys and buns... Isaiah 40:28&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8479446151915312918-5318399491770304266?l=accordionme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/feeds/5318399491770304266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8479446151915312918&amp;postID=5318399491770304266' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/5318399491770304266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8479446151915312918/posts/default/5318399491770304266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://accordionme.blogspot.com/2007/09/plaid-monkeys-and-buns-ok-so-theres.html' title='Plaid Monkeys and Buns'/><author><name>Jules</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03678984924454560309</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qyB5ZSqLOP8/SExf4mw3KqI/AAAAAAAAAFw/iPop61b0WIA/S220/DSC02646.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
