<?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-18358294</id><updated>2011-12-14T21:00:42.072-06:00</updated><title type='text'>She'll be riding six white horses when she comes!</title><subtitle type='html'>My daughter is sitting on the floor playing with a musical toy. She's rocking back and forth singing, "When she comes, when she comes, when she coooooomes!" I can't think of anything else, so that'll work...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whenshecomes.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18358294/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whenshecomes.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Liz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11208019790439825627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>14</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18358294.post-113591064370146168</id><published>2005-12-29T20:37:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-29T20:44:03.710-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Copycat</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;My son just turned 4. He is the leader of my two little people. Anya just turned 3 and repeats anything AJ says. Well, apparently AJ repeats anything he hears adults say. My dad has congestive heart failure, and as a result, his body can't process sodium. It causes water to build up in his lungs. So Dad is always saying, "Oh, that's got too much sodium in it, I can't take the sodium." Well, the other day AJ was eating one of his favorite quick dinners - ramen noodles, with chips on the side. He came to me after dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"Mom, don't give me any more of that stuff. I can't take the sodium!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:D&lt;br /&gt;Liz&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18358294-113591064370146168?l=whenshecomes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whenshecomes.blogspot.com/feeds/113591064370146168/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18358294&amp;postID=113591064370146168' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18358294/posts/default/113591064370146168'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18358294/posts/default/113591064370146168'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whenshecomes.blogspot.com/2005/12/copycat.html' title='Copycat'/><author><name>Liz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11208019790439825627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18358294.post-113590922171255514</id><published>2005-12-29T19:23:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-29T20:20:21.733-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmastide!!</title><content type='html'>A very blessed Christmas season to all of you! I had to work Christmas eve, AJ's birthday. I got up at 12:45AM and was at my first stop by 3. I was just leaving my third stop at 10AM when my boss pulled up. He asked if I had a delivery for my last stop. Truth be told, I had already delivered the product, and promised to return later for service. He said they needed more product, especially since they were going to be open on Christmas Day. I told him about a pickle that I was in - I didn't see enough product in any of the stores where they would not need a delivery Monday morning, and one store that wants to be made first would take quite a bit of time to service since the order I had placed was rather hefty. I would be trying to make 4 deliveries and service 4 stores in too small a time frame. So we headed back to the warehouse and I picked up enough product for those two stores and went back out to the route. I didn't get home until 5PM, then I had to get ready for Midnight Mass. And before heading out there my brother and I stopped at that one store that was going to be open on Christmas so I could give them a quick pull so that they'd be in good shape. Because I sure wasn't going to go in there on Christmas day. Well, we got there at 10PM and no one was there. I rang the bell but there were no cars in the parking lot so I knew no one was there. After a few minutes of waiting I finally left a note in the door and left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Midnight Mass was very beautiful. I was hoarse so I'm afraid my alto voice did nothing to add to the beauty of the Mass. But Anthony's baritone certainly enriched the choir quite a bit. He chanted the gradual - the solemn tone, full, long, beautiful. While he was chanting, Mrs. Cure was telling the rest of the choir about our part - we'd repeat the Alleluia. And while she was telling us this, Anthony hit a beautiful high note and I felt like telling her to hush and listen! It was so glorious and uplifting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After Mass I spoke to Father for a minute, and I commented, "I hope we didn't take you too much by surprise with the long gradual." Father said something about it was a surprise but he'd much rather have it than not and he could adjust to the change no problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Father went around the parish hall after Mass to every single person and shook their hand and said, "Merry Christmas!" And then he took a look at all the goodies that people had brought. "Ah, home-made cookies, more home-made cookies, God-made oranges, store-bought cookies..." and packed a little container with a few things. I guess because he had to say Mass again in the morning he didn't want to break his Communion fast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to the Cures afterwards (it was now 3AM) and the festivities began. Dominic and Tim showed up and there was yummy sandwiches and more sweets. Everybody was having a good time, but I was beat. We were spending the night with our friends. They showed me where I was sleeping and I crashed. I even missed the morning Mass. Anthony made it, and Mom and Dad were there with AJ and Anya. Mom brought the kids to me on their way home. We said goodbye to our friends around 11AM and went to Mom and Dad's for the rest of the day. Dad was lying down when we got their, so we waited for him to open the gifts, but we let AJ and Anya open a few. Anthony handed the kids a square package and said, "This is for both of you. Careful, it's heavy." They sat down on the floor and started ripping off the paper. An excited cheer from both of them filled the room as they got a glimpse of what was in the package. It was a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Thomas the Tank Engine&lt;/span&gt; story book, and from the size of it, I guess it's the entire collection of stories. We stopped opening presents for a while and I read several stories to them. Then Dad got up and we opened the rest of the gifts. It was a good Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After Christmas dinner I headed home to bed. I got up at 10PM to be at work by midnight. I intended to tackle the two stores that had gotten extra product first, since they would not be getting a delivery, then go get the truck, and service my other two stores. I arrived at my first stop at 11:30. Problem - no one was there. I went down the street to the next one. Bingo. Got that one done but it took two hours. Then I went back to the first stop. Ok, someone was there now. But this store, usually 24 hours open, being closed, I didn't know how to get in. So I finally walked around to the back and rang the bell, at which they opened the bay door expecting to find a truck. Since I had not gotten the truck yet, of course, I was not docked. They saw that the dock was empty and for just a minute, they panicked, thinking they were going to be robbed. But I hollered out to them, and they recognized me and let me in. So I got that store done, and was at the warehouse by 4:30. I was back at stop number three at 5:30, and didn't leave that store until 10:30. My last stop took three hours also. All the stores were pretty much empty, having been hit hard Saturday and closed and empty Sunday. The one store that was open Sunday had been serviced at 3PM Saturday, so even though I didn't make the pull as intended, they were in better shape than the other stores were, and chips hadn't really sold Sunday. I figure stuff like butter and milk and eggs, things people often run out of when cooking, were probably the only things they'd sold a lot of on Christmas day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, both Saturday and Monday were horridly long days. I'm so glad that part's over. Christmas day, however, was wonderful and I wish it could have never ended.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All for now. My wrist hurts from all this typing.&lt;br /&gt;Liz&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18358294-113590922171255514?l=whenshecomes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whenshecomes.blogspot.com/feeds/113590922171255514/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18358294&amp;postID=113590922171255514' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18358294/posts/default/113590922171255514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18358294/posts/default/113590922171255514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whenshecomes.blogspot.com/2005/12/christmastide.html' title='Christmastide!!'/><author><name>Liz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11208019790439825627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18358294.post-113460290584560886</id><published>2005-12-14T17:10:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-14T17:28:25.856-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Uncle Anthony</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5964/1794/1600/IMG016.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5964/1794/320/IMG016.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here we go! Anthony, weight-lifting, using AJ as the bar. It's the most he can lift. He's just not that type, you know. &gt;;) AJ thought it was great fun, although he held on tightly to Uncle Anthony's arm, just in case...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, that's me beside him. It was a work day and hot. My hair's too short to pull back in a ponytail, so I had to find another alternative. It was so cool watching Anthony playing with the kids. I know some day he'll be a great dad!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18358294-113460290584560886?l=whenshecomes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whenshecomes.blogspot.com/feeds/113460290584560886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18358294&amp;postID=113460290584560886' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18358294/posts/default/113460290584560886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18358294/posts/default/113460290584560886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whenshecomes.blogspot.com/2005/12/uncle-anthony.html' title='Uncle Anthony'/><author><name>Liz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11208019790439825627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18358294.post-113460144662511581</id><published>2005-12-14T16:33:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-14T17:04:06.636-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Pictures</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5964/1794/1600/IMG002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5964/1794/320/IMG002.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5964/1794/1600/IMG005.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5964/1794/320/IMG005.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, I thought I'd try this. Here is AJ and Anya, both pics taken this summer at Mom's. In the first they are doing their favorite thing, reading. Mom gets library books once a week for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the second they are horsing around like children do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lemme see what other pics I've got....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All for now.&lt;br /&gt;Liz&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18358294-113460144662511581?l=whenshecomes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whenshecomes.blogspot.com/feeds/113460144662511581/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18358294&amp;postID=113460144662511581' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18358294/posts/default/113460144662511581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18358294/posts/default/113460144662511581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whenshecomes.blogspot.com/2005/12/pictures.html' title='Pictures'/><author><name>Liz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11208019790439825627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18358294.post-113459933426235721</id><published>2005-12-14T16:01:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-14T16:28:54.273-06:00</updated><title type='text'>No time like the present...</title><content type='html'>Hello!&lt;br /&gt;Monday was Anya's birthday. I got to Mom's after work around 3PM, and we went out to eat. I had a gift card for Chili's. Yum. They have GREAT burgers. The kids enjoyed their meal, too. AJ had macaroni and cheese and cinnamon apples. Anya had a huge ear of corn and a burger. (She had to take the burger home.) Mom and I shared the bacon burger and fries. Then the waitress brought a chocolate icecream shake for Anya, which we all shared. Apparently there is no singing happy birthday, but oh well. We sang for Anya at the table by ourselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anya got a toy train - "Lady" - from the &lt;em&gt;Thomas the Tank Engine&lt;/em&gt; series. Mom gave AJ his train, too, since she knew he'd be jealous. The day before (Sunday), Mom and Dad took the kids to Mass and then to Bob and Ruth's house. Ruth gave AJ something like an erector set which he loves. It's got flat pieces with holes, and screws and nuts and bolts to build things. So on Monday while AJ was building things I gave Anya a baby doll. She likes it. She can take it in the bathtub (their latest thing to do - have their toys in the tub), and it's machine washable (head, arms, and legs too). We haven't tried it yet - either playing with baby in the tub or washing her in the machine. But anyway...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm off today, tomorrow, and Friday. So I am going to try to get things done around here - cleaning, sewing, mending, cooking. I made some fudge with white chocolate - but it's too sticky. I guess I'll call it taffy... I made Anya's birthday cake (pink - strawberry!) and called Mom and Dad to come and have some. Dad and I enjoyed some coffee along with our cake. Then I started working on some pretzels. The dough was pretty firm - too much flour. But it made good pretzels. I got the bathroom cleaned up somewhat last night. Need to do the floors. I need to clean up the kitchen and vacuum and straighten this desk and finish my sewing projects. So I have plenty to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, nothing new going on. Hope I haven't bored you to tears here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All for now!&lt;br /&gt;Liz&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18358294-113459933426235721?l=whenshecomes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whenshecomes.blogspot.com/feeds/113459933426235721/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18358294&amp;postID=113459933426235721' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18358294/posts/default/113459933426235721'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18358294/posts/default/113459933426235721'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whenshecomes.blogspot.com/2005/12/no-time-like-present.html' title='No time like the present...'/><author><name>Liz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11208019790439825627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18358294.post-113433973872997373</id><published>2005-12-11T15:38:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-11T16:22:18.740-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Rambling...</title><content type='html'>Howdy! Thought I'd take a minute to give ya the scoop...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anya turns three years old tomorrow! She has been saying "In December I get my cake! A pink cake!" So I guess I better not let her down. Pink is her favorite color - pale pink, I've noticed, more than hot pink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever had someone stand over your shoulder while you're typing? How about a cat stand ON your shoulder? I tell you, this cat is gaining weight. She's round in the middle, you'd think she was pregnant (she AIN'T! She's been fixed!). I just wish I could get her to walk back and forth across my shoulders and neck - it would be a nice gentle massage (unless she put out her claws to steady herself. That wouldn't be very nice).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, the best news of the month so far - Anthony's coming home for Christmas! Yay, yay, yayyy! I'm so happy I could stand on my head. Ok, maybe that would be a &lt;em&gt;bad&lt;/em&gt; idea... (The only thing that would be even better is if Jim can come home, even if it's just a temporary visit.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The worst thing so far this month - my cell phone is broken. Split in half (it was a flip phone), broke at the joint (I guess it was weak). That's the second phone I've had this year (first one was stolen when my car was stolen by that &lt;em&gt;thing&lt;/em&gt; I harbored...). I'm beginning to wonder if I should bother. Of course I will. I have a contract. I'm not going to throw &lt;em&gt;more &lt;/em&gt;money down the drain. I prefer the flip style, but maybe I should just get a solid one like a nokia. I wonder, too, will the insurance that I have on the phone cover this break, or will it be considered a breakage due to use and therefore not qualified? Sheesh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, I suppose I ought to get to bed early since I have to start early at work tomorrow. Tomorrow will be very different. I'm on another route tomorrow. It has a Sam's Club - a warehouse grocery store where everything's on pallets and sold supersized or in bulk quantities. All the stores I've serviced have an aisle where we put the bags of chips on the shelf. This store has a couple of aisles where we have pallets of boxes of individual bags of chips for vendors and businesses. (Ok, that sentence is wierd.) There are a few racks where we do put some larger bags up like in grocery stores. I &lt;em&gt;have&lt;/em&gt; to be done by 6:30AM or I'll be shot (figuratively speaking). Then there is another store to service, a Tom Thumb (a &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;really nice &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;grocery store). I've actually serviced it once before, although it was over a year ago, I dunno if it'll help me now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, to bed I said!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Christ,&lt;br /&gt;Liz&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18358294-113433973872997373?l=whenshecomes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whenshecomes.blogspot.com/feeds/113433973872997373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18358294&amp;postID=113433973872997373' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18358294/posts/default/113433973872997373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18358294/posts/default/113433973872997373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whenshecomes.blogspot.com/2005/12/rambling.html' title='Rambling...'/><author><name>Liz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11208019790439825627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18358294.post-113398327143346916</id><published>2005-12-07T12:56:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-07T13:21:11.453-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Work</title><content type='html'>Bouncing in the truck&lt;br /&gt;going sixty-five,&lt;br /&gt;seventy is luck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can't maintain, too much strain,&lt;br /&gt;slowing down, engine sounds&lt;br /&gt;like lions in a tunnel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Working for a living&lt;br /&gt;gone from dawn to dusk&lt;br /&gt;energy is fizzing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Need some sleep, need some eats,&lt;br /&gt;need a shower, see the hour!&lt;br /&gt;Good night! We're going to bed!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18358294-113398327143346916?l=whenshecomes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whenshecomes.blogspot.com/feeds/113398327143346916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18358294&amp;postID=113398327143346916' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18358294/posts/default/113398327143346916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18358294/posts/default/113398327143346916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whenshecomes.blogspot.com/2005/12/work.html' title='Work'/><author><name>Liz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11208019790439825627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18358294.post-113355268217987372</id><published>2005-12-02T13:33:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-02T13:44:42.190-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Box</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#990000;"&gt;I have a box, 21 inches long, 15 inches wide, and 11 inches deep. My microwave came in that box, and I gave it to the kids for their toys. My daughter has found a new use for it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#990000;"&gt;She is currently curled up, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#990000;"&gt;sound asleep &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;in the box.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#990000;"&gt;She lined it with a pillow (which filled it as if it was meant to be the mattress of this infant-sized crib) climbed in, and pulled her blanket over herself. She is sound asleep in the box on the bed, and my son is asleep on the bed beside the box. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#990000;"&gt;Mom, you once voiced your concerns to me about the portacrib being a little small for her. I don't think we'll have any problems for the next ten years. For her 13th birthday we'll just need to find a bigger box...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18358294-113355268217987372?l=whenshecomes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whenshecomes.blogspot.com/feeds/113355268217987372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18358294&amp;postID=113355268217987372' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18358294/posts/default/113355268217987372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18358294/posts/default/113355268217987372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whenshecomes.blogspot.com/2005/12/box.html' title='The Box'/><author><name>Liz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11208019790439825627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18358294.post-113339828345616214</id><published>2005-11-30T18:38:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-11-30T18:51:23.470-06:00</updated><title type='text'>General gripes....</title><content type='html'>Hello!&lt;br /&gt;Well, today was a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;long&lt;/span&gt; day. At least it felt like it. I'm so irritated with this whole thing going on at work right now. The bosses tweaked all the routes, I had just gotten my route all cleaned up, figured out, when they did this. I lost one store and gained two more. So now I have to clean up those two stores and figure the whole thing out again. Now I'm servicing four stores, I don't hardly have time to do anything at one store before I need to be getting to the next. My last stop used to be made at 6 or 8AM, now I'm getting there at 12 or 1PM, at least the manager hasn't done anything more than glance at his watch, tap it, hold it to his ear and ask, "What time is it?!" He's actually been very good-natured, which isn't what I remember him being like from the last time I had his store for a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm thinking it's time for a career change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm thinking I might like to become a nutritionist. That would take some serious considration, though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like my job at Frito. I do. I just don't like all the baloney that comes along with it. Everyone I talk to who used to work for Frito is always glad that they aren't there any more (except for guys who went from a Frito route to a Baird's bread route). I'd like to meet someone who really likes their job. And ask what is it that makes them like it so much. I'll go work in their field.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, I guess. Oh, I heard from my realtor, she is not giving up on getting this house financed for me. She said if the lender we're working with can't help us we'll find someone who will. So I'm holding my breath!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, I gotta go. The toothpicks aren't working anymore. I've been up since 1AM and it's 6:45PM now. And I worked almost 14 hours. Yuck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All for now!&lt;br /&gt;God bless you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Liz&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18358294-113339828345616214?l=whenshecomes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whenshecomes.blogspot.com/feeds/113339828345616214/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18358294&amp;postID=113339828345616214' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18358294/posts/default/113339828345616214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18358294/posts/default/113339828345616214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whenshecomes.blogspot.com/2005/11/general-gripes.html' title='General gripes....'/><author><name>Liz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11208019790439825627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18358294.post-113331502365822028</id><published>2005-11-29T19:36:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-11-29T19:43:43.660-06:00</updated><title type='text'>What time is it?</title><content type='html'>OK, I just saw the time at the bottom of the previous post, it is NOT four o'clock in the afternoon it is seven-thirty in the evening. And yes, I am late for bed. Hey, you try working 12 hours a day and getting up at one or two o'clock in the morning!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, g'nite!&lt;br /&gt;Liz&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18358294-113331502365822028?l=whenshecomes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whenshecomes.blogspot.com/feeds/113331502365822028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18358294&amp;postID=113331502365822028' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18358294/posts/default/113331502365822028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18358294/posts/default/113331502365822028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whenshecomes.blogspot.com/2005/11/what-time-is-it.html' title='What time is it?'/><author><name>Liz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11208019790439825627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18358294.post-113331377746792962</id><published>2005-11-29T18:52:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-11-29T19:30:41.556-06:00</updated><title type='text'>"So little to see and so much time! Wait, reverse that..." Willy Wonka</title><content type='html'>Why oh why am I doing this now?! I had a long day at work, not enough sleep, and it's getting late already. I need to be in bed getting some sleep!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, a scenario: 3 times in the past couple of weeks, someone has approached me in a store to ask for help with something. The first one was a woman. She was in a wheel chair and seemed slightly retarded. The second one was a young hispanic man who knew very little English. The third was your average guy, here in Texas "average" is country-western hick. OK. The one thing that happened with all three? They all called me "sir". The woman pulled up behind me in her wheel chair and said, "Sir? Sir?" She needed me to reach something for her. Seeing her disability I dismissed the gender title mix-up. The hispanic man I can easily figure not knowing English would get confused. After all, senor, senora, in Spanish. Why not sir, sirra, in English? He just said, "Excuse me sir, you speak English?" OK, anyway, I dismissed him, too. The third... I was hurrying one way, he was coming from the other direction, also hurrying. As I started to pass him he whirled around suddenly - "Excuse me, sir, do you know where-" At which I kind of exploded, "Do I look like a sir?!! I mean, this is the third time in two weeks! I'm wearing a skirt!Do I &lt;em&gt;look&lt;/em&gt; like a &lt;em&gt;sir??!!!&lt;/em&gt;" I was laughing and grinning as I hollered good-naturedly, it was so oddly amusing to me. The guy was laughing, too, and apologizing, he wasn't looking, he didn't mean to - ok, ok. Anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day after that I told the story to three different people. The first was one of my back-door receivers, who snorted at people's stupidity. The second was my best friend there at Frito-Lay who laughed and teased and said he would call me "sir" from now on. The third was another back-door receiver who analyzed the situation, pointed out my polo shirts are more on the masculine style, and although the hair, straight and cut just below the ears, might look boyish, it's still well within socially accepted standards as feminine. Also, he said despite feminism, when people go looking for help, they generally end up addressing a guy. I might argue with that one, but I'm terrible at asking for help, so I guess I wouldn't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I guess that's all the really interesting stuff that's happened lately. The rest is the same ol' thing. The bosses made changes to all the routes and that took effect this past Sunday. My route went from a three-store route to a four-store route. So if I want to do this job without killing myself, I will have to figure out some short-cuts! Monday I only had one cart-load of product going into each store, plus back-stock to go through. Today I had two per store, plus the back-stock. Tomorrow I have to change the displays in two stores since their weekly ad comes out tomorrow. It has to be done before the stores open, so I &lt;em&gt;need&lt;/em&gt; to go to bed because I &lt;em&gt;have&lt;/em&gt; to start early!!! So good night!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Liz&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS. I know the time below says this was posted in the 4 o'clock hour. That's like, Atlantic time? It is 7:25PM CST now. And yes, I go to bed early. I get up unbelievably early, like 1 or 2AM!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18358294-113331377746792962?l=whenshecomes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whenshecomes.blogspot.com/feeds/113331377746792962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18358294&amp;postID=113331377746792962' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18358294/posts/default/113331377746792962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18358294/posts/default/113331377746792962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whenshecomes.blogspot.com/2005/11/so-little-to-see-and-so-much-time-wait.html' title='&quot;So little to see and so much time! Wait, reverse that...&quot; Willy Wonka'/><author><name>Liz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11208019790439825627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18358294.post-113303005440947568</id><published>2005-11-26T12:17:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-11-26T12:34:14.423-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanksgiving Day</title><content type='html'>Well, happy Thanksgiving, everyone! I hope it was a good day, mine was. I packed up the kids and zipped over to my sister's house to spend the afternoon. Her other family was already there, and when I arrived the only people still missing were Mom and Dad. They arrived shortly and the festivities began. There was duck, turkey, ham, green bean casserole, creamed spinach, candied sweet potatoes, garlic mashed potatoes, potatoes au gratin, rolls, chips and dips, wine, and soda pop for those under age. I opted for water myself, and my kids the same. I did taste the sweet wine my Dad had brought, which was sweet upon first taste, but immediately followed the sourness of the fermented fruit juice and another minute brought on the warmth of the alcohol. I politely declined. As for the food, I had a little of everything the first time and the second time I polished off a couple of the dishes. I ate too much, I was full through Friday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday I had to do laundry. I got everything in the car, it was 3:30 when I remembered I first had to get the car checked. The radiator was dry. I needed to get it checked for a leak. So off we went to the dealership (I have an extended warranty, thank goodness!). They said I needed a new radiator, and that I shouldn't drive it until they get it fixed. Well, how long would it take? The new part wouldn't arrive until Tuesday. Am I covered for a rental car? Two days. Today is Friday, it's almost 5PM, so I could have the rental until Sunday evening. Then I would need a car Monday and Tuesday to get to work. Well, I knew I had things to do on my days off. So I opted to rent the car now and get a ride to work on Monday and Tuesday. My philosophy, worry about now, cross tomorrow's bridge when you come to it. Maybe that's a good way to describe procrastination? I dunno. But that's what I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we ended up doing laundry on Saturday. I don't like doing laundry any day. It would be fine if I had the facilities in-house, but they're not. This apartment doesn't even offer washer/dryer hook-ups. So laundry waits until my days off and then a two or three hour visit to the laundromat ensues. But at least it's done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, gotta run.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God bless!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Liz&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18358294-113303005440947568?l=whenshecomes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whenshecomes.blogspot.com/feeds/113303005440947568/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18358294&amp;postID=113303005440947568' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18358294/posts/default/113303005440947568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18358294/posts/default/113303005440947568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whenshecomes.blogspot.com/2005/11/thanksgiving-day.html' title='Thanksgiving Day'/><author><name>Liz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11208019790439825627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18358294.post-113279780076475789</id><published>2005-11-23T19:38:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-11-23T20:03:20.776-06:00</updated><title type='text'>She ain't comin' now!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc0000;"&gt;Howdy!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc0000;"&gt;It's been a while, I know. Sorry. I've been so busy lately. It looks like financing for the house is falling through. Which doesn't bother me. This house wasn't the house of my dreams, it was just a cute little house, and I needed it soon since my apartment lease was up. But oh well, I can just stay in the apartment a little longer. I'm irked by the investment I had to make just to try to buy the house, though. Money invested for the appraisal and inspection is not refunded. But oh well. I'll just have to wait. I'll just have to find another house and try again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc0000;"&gt;AJ is in the living room "reading" his library books. It's pretty cool, you can read a simple story to him a few times and then he can "read" it to Anya because he's got it memorized! Rhyming stories and stories with repetitive lines are great for him. However... A few weeks ago they went to the library with Gramma, who got a book about a little black train. By the time the book was returned, both of them were running around the house singing the rhyme and giggling hysterically. I'd be in the kitchen and out of the blue they'd start, and speed up as they sing:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc0000;"&gt; "Elephants stomp in two big packs &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc0000;"&gt;and the yellow ducks go 'quack quack quack'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc0000;"&gt; while dancing around the acrobats &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc0000;"&gt;who sing on the cars with the talking yaks&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc0000;"&gt; and the red caboose is in the back &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc0000;"&gt;of the little black train going down the track, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc0000;"&gt; clickety-clack, clickety-clack."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc0000;"&gt;Their piping voices would be going so fast that they'd dissolve into giggles and you couldn't understand the last two lines. Especially Anya. She doesn't speak quite as clearly as AJ yet (she is a year younger, give her time) so the giggles only made it nearly impossible to understand.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc0000;"&gt;They can also tell you everything you may ever want to know about Thomas the Tank Engine. I oughtta hire them out to a direct hotline number for kids. "&lt;em&gt;You got questions? We've got answers. I'm AJ and this is my sister Anya and we're here for you 24 hours a day, unless we're sleeping which we do for about 12 hours of the day." &lt;/em&gt;Then they could start buying their own diapers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc0000;"&gt;Oh well, I gotta run. I'm very tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God Bless!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc0000;"&gt;Liz&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18358294-113279780076475789?l=whenshecomes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whenshecomes.blogspot.com/feeds/113279780076475789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18358294&amp;postID=113279780076475789' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18358294/posts/default/113279780076475789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18358294/posts/default/113279780076475789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whenshecomes.blogspot.com/2005/11/she-aint-comin-now.html' title='She ain&apos;t comin&apos; now!'/><author><name>Liz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11208019790439825627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18358294.post-113042817489515902</id><published>2005-10-27T12:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-27T10:49:34.903-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ok, here goes nothing...</title><content type='html'>Well, Anthony's blog site seems so interesting, I thought I'd give it a try. Although I'm not sure of the whole thing. Unlike Anthony, I have nothing fascinating going on in my life. I just work, eat, sleep, and try to find time for my kids. Obviously by the site title, I was inspired by my daughter's singing when I was setting up the web page...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, there is one interesting thing in my life right now. I am buying a house! Closing date is November 30th. It's a cute little place. I'll have to find out how to post pictures so I can put some on the website for ya! It's in Mesquite near my Mom's place. 950 square feet, built in 1955, but completely remodeled with new paint and carpet, new roof, etc. There's some yard work to be done, and a tree or two will have to come down, along with several saplings (a year old at most) alongside the house and fence which must be removed. But all in due time. Winter is coming. Some of the yard work can wait until spring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since my life revolves around my job and my children, you will be sure to read about one or the other subject in these posts. Occasionally there is sure to be some comment about the cat who delights the children with her crazy antics. We took it to the vet the other day. She's only 6 months old. They recommended weight loss, as she  weighs 7.2 pounds and has a fat tummy. No more kitten food for her!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, today is Mom's birthday, and we have a cake and some presents to deliver to her. So I'd best be running along.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pax Christi!&lt;br /&gt;Liz&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18358294-113042817489515902?l=whenshecomes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whenshecomes.blogspot.com/feeds/113042817489515902/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18358294&amp;postID=113042817489515902' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18358294/posts/default/113042817489515902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18358294/posts/default/113042817489515902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whenshecomes.blogspot.com/2005/10/ok-here-goes-nothing.html' title='Ok, here goes nothing...'/><author><name>Liz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11208019790439825627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
