<?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'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1351047022817723850</id><updated>2010-01-03T05:55:04.883-08:00</updated><title type='text'>heart shaped hedges</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>heartshapedhedges</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02081767672670551851</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>194</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1351047022817723850.post-844149352486681234</id><published>2009-09-23T13:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T13:51:18.438-07:00</updated><title type='text'>That is sooo mean!!</title><content type='html'>I dont like it when people are cruel to each other.  Being nice is so much better than being mean....and so, I shudder at the thought of being considered mean, you know....I want people to know that I am really a nice person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That being said, there is something so funny, so hilarious, that it sort of makes the "meanness" not count.  When you are laughing so hard that you cant stop, and end up having a full fledged asthma attack because you cant breathe through all the hysterics, you sort of forget that the subject of your humor might have feelings.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently, my friend Laura, passed along a website that had me laughing like I hadnt laughed in years....and, I want to share it with you, but then I fear you will think I am mean and heartless....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what's a girl to do????&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, Ill give you the links, but only for research purposes.....I want to know if you think they are mean....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please come back and post your thoughts;  and on a scale of 1 -10, were they mean?  1 = no meanness AT ALL, pure fun!  and 10 = you are so cruel and heartless!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Warning, the second one is a little more raunchy.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.peopleofwalmart.com"&gt; funny  &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://makefunofmyfriends.com"&gt;  funny bit more raunchy &lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"&gt;
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&lt;/script&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1351047022817723850-844149352486681234?l=heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/feeds/844149352486681234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1351047022817723850&amp;postID=844149352486681234' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/844149352486681234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/844149352486681234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/2009/09/that-is-sooo-mean.html' title='That is sooo mean!!'/><author><name>heartshapedhedges</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02081767672670551851</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16707246844985161167'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1351047022817723850.post-7619587936976901656</id><published>2009-09-01T13:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-01T13:08:50.344-07:00</updated><title type='text'>breaking news!</title><content type='html'>Yes, &lt;a href="http://www.jason-thejasonshow.blogspot.com"&gt;Jason&lt;/a&gt;, Im blogging again :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been very busy removing hot pink nail polish from my daughters' pale pink walls, (God help me, only one more week until school starts!) but when I heard the news, I knew that informing my reader took priority.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Make sure you are sitting down, preferably with your legs crossed..... the big news is..... The Duggars are expecting child #19.  Seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, while some of you are catching your breath, I can also hear someone saying, "big deal....that is as predictable as the sun rising each day, The Duggars having another child....that's not breaking news at all."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you feel?  How do I feel?  I think the combination of "wow that is unbelievable" and "just what I expected" is an interesting convergence of emotions...and I think that is what I am feeling now....no judgement, no, "it's a vagina not a clown car" remarks from me, no sirrreeee....just amazement, and acceptance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each child is a gift from God, a blessing.....that's my thought and Im sticking to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's yours?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"&gt;
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&lt;/script&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1351047022817723850-7619587936976901656?l=heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/feeds/7619587936976901656/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1351047022817723850&amp;postID=7619587936976901656' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/7619587936976901656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/7619587936976901656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/2009/09/breaking-news.html' title='breaking news!'/><author><name>heartshapedhedges</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02081767672670551851</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16707246844985161167'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1351047022817723850.post-5421193398763584859</id><published>2009-08-14T16:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-14T17:16:01.075-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the fair and the bearded lady</title><content type='html'>A couple of weeks ago, My Honey and I had the chance to go to the fair.  "had the chance" is sort of an interesting way of putting it....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I grew up going to this fair, every year, it would kill me to miss it, that was before....well, before my extroversion began to wane....now, the thought of going to the fair, being bumped into by people with no sense of personal space, waiting in lines, listening to screaming....well, it's something I could pass on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our church youth group was having a "child care drop off" night, and we jumped at the chance to go out without it costing us $100 (seriously, if you havent used a babysitter lately, suddenly 14 year olds are demanding 3x the minimum wage...I know, I should have majored in babysitting....) but anyways, we couldnt pass up the opportunity to get out on our own, first time in a few dozen months...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I figured we would go out to a favorite restaurant, or see a movie...perhaps check out the new "Dueling pianos" bar...but My Honey wanted to go to the fair, and I knew that going without kids was the ONLY way I would even think of going....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After walking a mile or two, we entered into the legendary world of the fair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taking in the neon lights and flashing bells, we were drawn like magnets to the food aisle.  We were like kids in a candy store, literally, and we declared that we would have a guilt free night of fair-food tasting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chocolate covered bacon, grilled corn on the cob, shaved ice, ...and My Honey's favorite, the deep fried Twinkie....all entertained our sense of taste....once full, we kept walking, knowing that the exercise would help reduce the guilt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Typical carny coersion was in full force, as the game operators tried to lure you to their booth...we played some, knowing they were rigged, knowing that even if we "won" it would take a dozen "wins" to get the actual large prize that was displayed...we'd have to collect $100 worth of trinkets to trade in for anything worth carrying.....but knowing that we played, and lost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Honey almost won the basketball toss, "you were soooo close!" I told him, encouraging him to pay for another shot....it's the fair, might as well make the most of it, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eventually, we found ourselves in the exposition hall, where booths filled with "as seen on TV" items were being peddled.  Billy Mays (may he rest in peace) and The Sham-Wow guy have a lot of up and coming imitators.  Slick salesman held up their wares, trying to entice us with practically miraculous claims.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One booth caught my eye, as they demonstrated the "Smooth Away Hair Removal System".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back in the day, I had 2-3, long, course, fast growing, but thankfully, BLONDE hairs that grew just under my chin, about an inch to the left.  Not a huge deal, easy to feel when they were getting long, easy to pluck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, in the past decade, that patch has gotten a few new hairs, and more recently, it's become quite a little garden of annoyance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps this "Smooth Away" thing might be just what I needed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, they claim it has "fine crystals" on this little pad, and you simply buff the hairy area.  The gal showed me how it worked, and then told me to try it myself.  I was apparently a bit too eager, because she noticed that I had scuffed off some of the skin.  "dont press so hard next time, and it will not be as irritating."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honestly, I didnt notice MUCH irritation, I was more enamored with the smooth chin it gave me.  So, I bought one, and then proceeded through the fair grounds, feeling oh so fabulous with my smooth chin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The late night came to an end, and we eventually wound up at home after picking up the kiddos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day, I kept rubbing my chin, as an abrasion was brewing, from where I rubbed off my skin.  But, at least it wasnt bearded anymore!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the end of the day, seriously, I could feel the stubble coming back! THAT was a short lived dream.  Now I was gonna have stubble, AND a big scab from my skin being scraped off!  And, as if that wasnt bad enough, as soon as my chin began to heal, a new problem erupted, in the form of.....ingrown hairs!  That's the thing I hate about hair removal, including eyebrow waxing, is before you know it, I have big pimples from ingrown hairs...which become quite big and ugly, not to mention painful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, the big dilemna, do I even bother buffing off the now well grown return of my hairy, chin-patch? or just let it be?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it better to have a beard? ingrown hairs? abrasions?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe next year I can return, and get my own booth as the bearded lady!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"&gt;
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Yesterday was a huge success.  Today, not so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We started out with Princess Jasmine panties.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:  Princess Jasmine is HAPPY&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LO:  Yeah, she is happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:  Make sure you put your potty in the toilet, so she can be happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LO:  yeah, Im not gonna put potty on Princess Jasmine, that makes her SOOOO SAD!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:  You will put your potty in the toilet, and she will be HAPPY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was so glad we were in agreement. I was just as happy as Princess Jasmine, that is, until, I went to load Little One into the car, and realized Princess Jasmine was either SO SAD that she was sobbing urine tears, or Little One had pee'd her panties.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, I was putting her into the car, because I was in a rush to drop off some yummy, decorative chocolates to church.  An older woman lost her long battle with cancer, and I had agreed to bring some treats for the memorial reception.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didnt want to be late, so I just buckled up my SAD PRINCESSES, along with Beauty and Pooper, and we were off.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, the church, where the memorial was taking place.....is also the main campus of the school where my children attend.  School is out for summer, but the staff were there.  Anyhoo.....I pulled up, right up to the entry way (parking illegally, because I was just going to run my chocolates up to the reception....and the parking lot was pretty full due to the memorial service.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I brought my pretty candies, and on my way back to the car, I got a FANTASTIC phone call.  The President of Dove Chocolate Discoveries, was calling me, I was so excited!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So excited, that as I was entering my car (with children and a wet pair of Princess panties inside)...my car that was as close to the memorial service as possible (practically at the front doors) and my car that is right in front of the School Superintendent's office window....that car...as I was entering it, I accidentally set off the alarm.  No kidding!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ive got our President on the phone, as Im trying to keep my cool on the conversation, and fumbling to find my keys, and then to get my key in the door to turn off the alarm....fully aware that people are mourning just a few yards away....with my blaring horn going off! I almost drop the phone, the kids are screaming......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luckily, Dove's President has a sense of humor, and was laughing with me, as I made a quick get away out of the parking lot, thankfully before people started coming out to see what MORON had their car alarm blaring in the midst of a memorial service.  Nobody saw me, whew!  Nobody but the school superintendant, who' was probably watching the whole thing out her office window!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YIKES!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soon the day mellowed, and I took the kids home, and washed up Little One, putting her in some Ariel panties.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:  Ok Little One, Ariel is very happy now, but we need to put our potty in the toilet so she can stay HAPPY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LO:  Ariel is HAPPY, but Princess Jasmine is SOOO SAD!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me;  Yes, Princess Jasmine was sad you pee'd on her, but I will wash her, and make her HAPPY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LO:  She will be HAPPY and Ariel is HAPPY!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:  yes, so make sure you put your potty in the toilet so she can stay HAPPY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;to be continued............&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"&gt;
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&lt;/script&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1351047022817723850-7233172862548073509?l=heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/feeds/7233172862548073509/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1351047022817723850&amp;postID=7233172862548073509' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/7233172862548073509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/7233172862548073509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/2009/04/so-you-think-you-can-dance.html' title='so you think you can dance'/><author><name>heartshapedhedges</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02081767672670551851</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16707246844985161167'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1351047022817723850.post-3515968263873529194</id><published>2009-03-31T20:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-31T21:23:00.679-07:00</updated><title type='text'>American Idol Recap</title><content type='html'>Ive been really looking forward to American Idol tonight, and while Im not sure he's my complete "favorite", I will say that Adam is the contestant I am really looking forward to hearing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think he is genius.  Ring of Fire was AMAZING....sorry if the judges were too lame to realize it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now for tonight, I thought you all would really want to know; "What does HSH think?"  LOL, not really, but Im tellin' ya anyways;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anooop:  Im not necessary all, "ANOOOOP DOG" or anything, but he had nice vocals tonight.  Perhaps he could have taken more risks, etc. but it was still nice, and I was afraid he was gonna cry when the judges made their harsh comments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meghan:  Ill be honest, my conservative self cant stop fixating on the tattoo.  Every week I say to myself, "Such a pretty girl, why did she do that to herself?"  And then I wonder if it's possible to get it completely removed, or will she always be scarred with it.  Sad.  She is cute, and her voice might do well with some songs, but she sounded super pitchy tonight, and boring. Note to Meghan, the audience WASNT feeling it! I can see her having quite a following at a coffee house, but Im not gonna buy one of her albums. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;** Side note **  &lt;br /&gt;Im getting confused, do they want them to pick a song that represents their style? If so, are they then going to tell them the songs are too "Safe"????&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Danny:  his voice sounded strained, but I totally felt the emotion, heck, wanted to cry for him.  Amazing song, amazing singer!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alison:  She rocks.  More importantly, the commentary....do these people not realize that criticizing the "looks" of a teen girl, in front of tons of people, is totally not cool???  What teen girl (or any girl, or anyone??) wants to be criticized?  Her outfit was just fine...., and RANDY, hello?  Have you ever seen the old Journey videos? The ones where FAT RANDY is wearing red, spandez pants and an afro-hawk?  She rocked. 'Nuf said!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scott:  Just so you know, Im not a huge fan.  Im sure his mom is bursting with pride, and I give him major props, he is an accomplished and brave young man, but Im not buying an album. e.v.e.r.  That said, When he said, "Im gonna strip it down with just me and the piano." my eyes rolled back into my head.  Im just not into 70's piano ballads.  Not tonight.  Give me Daughtry, Give me Creed, Give me Pink, not a ballad. But his haircut did look nice, too poofy, but nice.  As for the judges, why did Paula have to bring up his "challenges"??  She only accentuates the pity-card when she does that.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;** Side Note***  &lt;br /&gt;Was Paula drugged tonight? I mean, more than usual?  She was a bit slurry and drippy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Matt:  Sometimes pitchy, but I liked it a lot.  I love that song and he had great emotion.  As for the judges...Are they kidding?  Criticize that his voice wasnt at it's best, but that song was great, and perfect for him!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**  Side Note **  &lt;br /&gt;Im liking people based on the songs, more than their voice...so people, no more ballads!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lil: I like Lil.  She is sweet.  Im not a huge Celine fan.  I mean, it's part of that "ballad" crowd that just makes me tip over out of boredom.  But, Lil did a great job.  She has an incredible voice.  The hairdo looks nice on her,, but Im not a big fan of wigs, so that was distracting...but overall, nice performance.  Paula gave the best critique....we dont want more "adult contemporary" music. (period. from anyone.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**Side Note**  My husband, who doesnt usually make fun of people, made jokes about her name throughout the performance. Shame!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**Another Side Note ** &lt;br /&gt;love how they are saving Adam til the end EVERY WEEK...they know he is what keeps many of us tuned in!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adam:  Ive been waiting to hear Adam, since he sang his final note last week.  He is so filled with talent...Ok, he should have saved this for 70's night.  I would have liked to hear him sing something more current...but he was amazing.  His voice is phenomenal!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kris:  I think Kris is adorable.  The past weeks, Ive liked him, but dont feel he has the power that some of the others bring.  Tonight, he seemed much stronger and I got to hear his clear voice with plenty of emotion.  Not a huge fan of the mustache, but unlike a multicolored tattoo covering an entire limb, it's removable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My favs are probably Adam, Allison, Danny, Matt and Kris.  These are the folks that have the best shot of selling me an album.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How about you?  Who'd ya love? Who made you hit the zzzz's or plug your ears?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"&gt;
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&lt;/script&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1351047022817723850-3515968263873529194?l=heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/feeds/3515968263873529194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1351047022817723850&amp;postID=3515968263873529194' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/3515968263873529194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/3515968263873529194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/2009/03/american-idol-recap.html' title='American Idol Recap'/><author><name>heartshapedhedges</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02081767672670551851</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16707246844985161167'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1351047022817723850.post-1181407429011677439</id><published>2009-03-27T11:01:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-27T11:03:12.276-07:00</updated><title type='text'>All the fun</title><content type='html'>For today, all the fun is happening at my other blog....great things you wont want to miss!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.thechocolateladyblog.blogspot.com"&gt; www.thechocolateladyblog.blogspot.com &lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"&gt;
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&lt;/script&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1351047022817723850-1181407429011677439?l=heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/feeds/1181407429011677439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1351047022817723850&amp;postID=1181407429011677439' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/1181407429011677439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/1181407429011677439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/2009/03/all-fun.html' title='All the fun'/><author><name>heartshapedhedges</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02081767672670551851</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16707246844985161167'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1351047022817723850.post-3141789480525948394</id><published>2009-03-25T14:05:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T14:21:31.623-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mini Me</title><content type='html'>Lately, Ive been starting to see a few of these around town;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://brainbuggy.com/images/DSC01590.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 640px; height: 480px;" src="http://brainbuggy.com/images/DSC01590.JPG" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These mini cars save on gas, reduce pollution, and would help make the world a greener place.  And, if there were a way to strap my kids on top, perhaps with a special child-roof rack, it would be much more doable.  But as it is, I dont understand how we are to fit a family with 3 children, and their regulation car seats (Im not gonna even mention friends for a play date.)  But, let's suppose they work that out....and we can all fit, and it's the perfect car.  Is it really the best idea to get a car like this, when so many of the other cars look like this;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.uncrate.com/men/images/2007/10/hummer-h2-safari.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 470px; height: 300px;" src="http://www.uncrate.com/men/images/2007/10/hummer-h2-safari.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.automedia.com/NewCarBuyersGuide2008/photos/2008/Chevrolet/Suburban/SUV/2008_Chevy_Suburban_ext_1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 433px; height: 280px;" src="http://www.automedia.com/NewCarBuyersGuide2008/photos/2008/Chevrolet/Suburban/SUV/2008_Chevy_Suburban_ext_1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems to me, that we cant all be on the same roads at one time, it's just not safe.  It seems the auto industry needs to come to some sort of agreement re: cars and sizes and such, so that we can all drive safely together.  We should either all be mini-ish, or not, but this mixed bag is scaring me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"&gt;
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&lt;/script&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1351047022817723850-3141789480525948394?l=heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/feeds/3141789480525948394/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1351047022817723850&amp;postID=3141789480525948394' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/3141789480525948394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/3141789480525948394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/2009/03/mini-me.html' title='Mini Me'/><author><name>heartshapedhedges</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02081767672670551851</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16707246844985161167'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1351047022817723850.post-5052801011273895711</id><published>2009-03-20T09:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-20T09:17:51.552-07:00</updated><title type='text'>we're breaking up</title><content type='html'>You know, sometimes you think you know someone, you think you can trust them...not just "trust them" with a confidence, but that you know what they are about and that you can trust their character, their judgment.  And then, there are those times, you realize, you were totally wrong, and you have quite an emotional toll to pay for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, Ill just say this, it's never easy breaking up.  Even when you know someone is no good, you want to hold on to what was, and what could be....  Forcing yourself to walk away is often the best plan, but the hardest to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now I have kids involved, and for their sake, Im going to do whats right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, it's official, we are D.O.N.E. with this guy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.foxnews.com/images/522025/0_21_zac1_450.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In case the mussed up hair is making it hard to see....or if your brain just cant register the image of this guy in this provocative pose, let me help....it's Zac Efron.  Zac as in, "Troy Bolton" the guy my daughter swoons over.....the High School Musical stud that brought us great music, and a lot of fun. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's on the beach, rolling in the sand, with a NAKED GIRL (and no, it's not his other naked girfriend, Vanessa....and, on a side note, we "forgave" Vanessa for her photo-episode, but this was planned and purposeful on Zac's part....so, no grace!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, I realize this picture is only of their sand covered, faces, but go ahead and google it, the real pic shows the girls BARE BOTTOM and she is topless!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, now that Beauty loves this guy, this "wholesome" guy, he goes and does this.  I could see if eventualllly, the fame wagon took him down this road, but this was a sudden jump into the abyss.  Zac commented in the accompanying article, that he wants to start taking some riskier moves. Super!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sad part, is Beauty just saw a billboard for an upcoming Zac Efron movie, and is excited for it's release.....now, there is no way we are going.  She's young, but Im gonna teach her now, to learn to walk away.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If next week we see some article, where he is crawling back to his teeny-bopper fans, with, "Im so sorry" and "I made a bad choice"...we arent gonna fall for it.  We are totally walking away from this guy, lesson learned.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"&gt;
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&lt;/script&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1351047022817723850-8235817460134143425?l=heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/feeds/8235817460134143425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1351047022817723850&amp;postID=8235817460134143425' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/8235817460134143425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/8235817460134143425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-wouldnt-expect-anything-else.html' title='I wouldnt expect anything else'/><author><name>heartshapedhedges</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02081767672670551851</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16707246844985161167'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1351047022817723850.post-2837240516636317529</id><published>2009-03-15T21:10:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-15T21:25:35.441-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Not our family sport</title><content type='html'>I cant wait until my kids are just a bit older, so that we can start doing fun family activities together.  It's not that we arent creating traditions now, like going to the yogurt shop or watching Disneyland parades...but Im looking for something more adventurous that we can do together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know how some families all go dirt bike riding on a regular basis, or snow skiing several times a winter....'cause it's their THING??  Well, Im looking for something like that for my family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can tell you right now, it's NOT going to be ice-skating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today we went to the "Great Park" (that's what it's called) and they had free ice-skating at a rink that they have set up.  It was My Honey's idea to go, and it sounded fun to me and the kids, so off we went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Believe it or not, they had skates tiny enough for Little One...so we were all on the ice.  Holding onto the rails, unsteadily jerking around, catching the side rail, falling on our rumps....slowly and painfully, edging around the rink.  Joy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Honey very quickly decided to sit out with Little One, because one more trip around the circle would probably have resulted in her arm being pulled out of it's socket....as she held her Daddy's hand and slipped to the ground.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I actually did ok, with short glides, able to distance myself about a foot from the rail....so brave was I!  But for goodness sake, how much fun can you have when your ankles are aching and you feel as if you might split your head open at any second???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beauty was loving it.  She more or less walked around the ice, but she was confident.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pooper...God love him.  I was reminded that his osteoperosis and neuropathy limit his strength, as his ankles were much weaker than anyone else (which is pretty weak) and could barely support him.  He didnt give up, he insisted on going round and round for the entire 45 minute session. Body pressed against the side wall, tightly gripping the rail, as he moved him self along. He was a real trooper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And while we now have a "family ice skating" memory....Im sort of thinking, perhaps hoping, it's our last.  I dont plan on being the family that makes a habit of ice skating together.  It's not going to be our thing. It's just not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What Im really waiting for, is for Little One to get another year or two under her belt, so we can go kayaking, snorkeling...and eventually white water rafting and scuba diving together.  We will be the family that heads to the water for our annual vacations, and sneaks in mini-trips in between.  Yep, it's going to be water for us, all kinds of water, as long as it's not frozen!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"&gt;
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&lt;/script&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1351047022817723850-2837240516636317529?l=heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/feeds/2837240516636317529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1351047022817723850&amp;postID=2837240516636317529' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/2837240516636317529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/2837240516636317529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/2009/03/not-our-family-sport.html' title='Not our family sport'/><author><name>heartshapedhedges</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02081767672670551851</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16707246844985161167'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1351047022817723850.post-5325441987216430821</id><published>2009-03-14T15:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-14T21:16:59.949-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Where have you been?</title><content type='html'>Ok, I admit, I have slipped out of bloggerville....    I have been busy doing my chocolate stuff, blah blah blah....and you dont even have to hear about it here, because I have a new blog JUST FOR CHOCOLATE, where I share my recipes, entertaining ideas, and more.  You can visit it at www.thechocolateladyblog.blogspot.com  or just click &lt;a href="http://www.thechocolateladyblog.blogspot.com"&gt; here. &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But anyways...life goes on, and there is just so much fun stuff that I have missed out on telling you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kiddos have all been fantastic...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pooper just won 1st place in his speech meet competition, and will go on to the regionals.  He also is pretty enthraled with his Nintendo DS and all things Pokemon.  In fact, Pooper, recognizing the need in the world for tips on how to play Pokemon on Nintendo, wanted to create his own blog...  &lt;a href="http://pokemondiamondtopearl.blogspot.com"&gt;Check it out!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beauty is her same sweet self, going through her day with joy and obedience.  She is excited to go camping soon, with her Y Indian Princess tribe (father-daughter thing)...her Indian Princess name is Little Dancing Dolphin, and she and Big Laughing Shark (My Honey) will be in the San Diego area for an upcoming weekend, probably learning Pow-wow songs and stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little One is two, and I mean, she is living and breathing the twos and all things terrible that it brings; independence, resistance, insistance, refusal-to-sleep-and-then-crabby-due-to-being-tired....  but I must say, while she exudes the 2's more than my other kids ever did, she is also incredibly adorable....and honestly, I thank God for her confidence and independence, even if it's driving me crazy now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, that's how Ive been spending my time....what about you???&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"&gt;
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&lt;/script&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1351047022817723850-5325441987216430821?l=heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/feeds/5325441987216430821/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1351047022817723850&amp;postID=5325441987216430821' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/5325441987216430821'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/5325441987216430821'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/2009/03/where-have-you-been.html' title='Where have you been?'/><author><name>heartshapedhedges</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02081767672670551851</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16707246844985161167'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1351047022817723850.post-8767469463192561601</id><published>2009-02-25T09:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-25T10:04:42.726-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What was she thinking?</title><content type='html'>Well Hello,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Long time no chat.  I dont know if I could have ever really called this "chatting"...but, *I'M* chatting...so....anyways...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you probably know, because Ive rambled on about it before, I went to the Mars Chocolate School a couple weeks ago, and let's just say, it was AMAZING.  My kids squeeled when I told them there were free candy bars just lying around all over the place (true!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I earned the trip as part of my new Dove business, Im an independent Chocolatier, and I was rewarded for my sales and team building.  Dove treated me like a queen....there were 14 of us that earned the trip, and at every turn we were being given lavish gifts, taken to fancy restaurants, and the entire time we had private rooms in a swanky hotel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now, Ive returned to life, and life it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This past weekend, there has been a &lt;a href="http://www.ocregister.com/articles/trujillo-ten-year-2317486-old-abduction"&gt; creepy predator in our neighborhood. &lt;/a&gt;   He approached Pooper and his friends on Sat. evening, and on Sunday at noon he was back and tried to abduct one of the boys (Pooper was not there on Sun.)  Apparently there have been other instances this past week, same guy....so our normally tranquil community has been swarming with dozens of Sheriff's deputies going door to door asking questions, and news crews have been camped out giving "live reports".  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While Im glad to have the news coverage (better opportunity to catch the jerk)...Ive never understood why a TV crew would brave the LA traffic and drive all the way here (2 hours away), just to have our street in the backdrop.  Is the story any different if they just report it from behind the news desk? Is it worth the gas and man power to have actual homes in the scene? Such a mystery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another mystery, the one that prompted my writing today, is why anyone would do &lt;a href="http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,499907,00.html"&gt; THIS &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And before you think this is some tribal custom...the woman is Brazillian and lives in Scotland, she's not "tribal"  AND, she's a nurse, like, WHOA!  Imagine waking up from a coma to see her face!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw the article in the news, and I just cringed.  My kids already  know that tattoos and piercings wont be allowed in my home (at 16 the girls can get each ear single pierced)....call me too strict, call me Duggar-ish, I dont care, it's how we roll.  I cant imagine anyone enduring that much physical pain, or wanting to endure the stares and judgement (because, obviously they would get it.)  What makes a person want to be considered a weird-o?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there is the other extreme, the plastic-barbie-I-look-perfect facade that is trademark for some folks, going so out of their way to be accepted.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(speaking of the barbie-bimbo types, did anyone see the Real Housewives of the OC last night?  I dont know what is worse, having a creepy predator or an OC housewife in my neighborhood!!!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In any case....life is strange, and it continues on...............&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"&gt;
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&lt;/script&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1351047022817723850-8767469463192561601?l=heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/feeds/8767469463192561601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1351047022817723850&amp;postID=8767469463192561601' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/8767469463192561601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/8767469463192561601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/2009/02/what-was-she-thinking.html' title='What was she thinking?'/><author><name>heartshapedhedges</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02081767672670551851</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16707246844985161167'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1351047022817723850.post-3693626215217048215</id><published>2008-12-30T15:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-30T15:26:43.223-08:00</updated><title type='text'>More fun than a Caribbean cruise!</title><content type='html'>My Honey and I both love to travel.  No offense to the "North Pole Express" folks, but it takes something more than a 3 mile train plod, out to the cattle fields, to satiate our vacation hunger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With finances being pinched, we arent in a position to go anywhere...oh, we did venture to the snow last year, and there was that Make-A-Wish extravaganza to Florida a few years back.....but somehow both left us wanting on the R&amp;R scale.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, we talk about trips, planning them down to the detail, knowing that we arent actually going to go....but it makes us feel good to pretend we *might* go.  Just for kicks, I like to go on the internet and look at the bargain prices for last minute cruises, and it makes it seem like Im almost out on the water, when I read about the itinerary and amenities on board.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day, I ran into a neighbor at the market.  She was sharing her latest woes re: her grown children, and how they are depleting her retirement kitty.  She said, "My sister has a boat and a vacation home, Ive got 3 kids!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Earlier today, My Honey had just a tinge of envy in his voice, as he remarked that a co-worker, a childless co-worker, had an ocean view home on Newport Coast, and another residence in the mountains.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But he doesnt have kids!"  I reminded him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, I know!" My Honey responded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We could be galavanting off to the South of France each Spring (or whenever it's best to go), and scuba diving in Tahiti each Fall, with ski trips to Idaho in the Winter...we could do all of that, but we have our dear children instead..."  I said, as I sort of weighed things in my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, I know!" said My Honey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And we wouldnt trade them for anything, would we?  They are much more fun than a dozen vacations, arent they?"  I wondered.....trying to convince myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes" My Honey insisted, "Especially when you are wiping poop up off the floor."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, we are still totally open to trying out some resort locations, and blogging about it.  Yep, we are the flexible kind of folks that are fully up to "bartering" if anyone (like Beaches with Elmo) is interested.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"&gt;
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&lt;/script&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1351047022817723850-3693626215217048215?l=heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/feeds/3693626215217048215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1351047022817723850&amp;postID=3693626215217048215' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/3693626215217048215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/3693626215217048215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/2008/12/more-fun-than-caribbean-cruise.html' title='More fun than a Caribbean cruise!'/><author><name>heartshapedhedges</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02081767672670551851</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16707246844985161167'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1351047022817723850.post-7092839183267269683</id><published>2008-12-28T20:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T20:48:28.286-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Real Thing</title><content type='html'>After our trip to The North Pole, I had a lot of work ahead of me, if I was going to salvage any of Pooper's belief in Santa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realize many moms would have just let it go, the kid is 8 now, and pretty bright, so maybe it's just his time to let Santa go....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But Pooper's belief had been so strong prior to our trip, I just knew there was still some hope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I gave up trying to rationalize why there were cows, and no snow, at the North Pole, or how we travelled through 3 countries and onto a new continent....sort of.  What I did do, was take the kids to "google earth" to see if we could figure out exactly where we had went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pulled up the "satellite" version (as in the version that has very little snow on the ground) of North America, and asked Pooper and Beauty, to use the mouse to show me where they think we went.  We all agreed, that we had gone past Canada, at least to the Northwest Territories (obviously!)  After that, it became unclear.....Beauty does seem to remember passing some water, although Pooper wasnt sure.  I asserted, that we had probably gone to the "border" of the North Pole area, and not to the actual "pole" itself.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clearly, from the map, there was not snow along our route, as that seems to be reserved for the axis or "pole", but there is plenty of dirt and earthy terrain as you go from  Washington, through Canada, and into the Northwest Territories, to the border of the North Pole.  Pooper could clearly see this, and agreed, that we had probably just went to the "entrance"...because logically, that is where the train would stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AND, just like in our local mountains, the streets and stores have been cleared of snow, the train station had most likely been cleared of any snow, for safety reasons, and besides, the heat of the engine would have melted any snow, of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pooper spent some time moving the mouse along the map, trying to decide which path we might have taken...and it didnt really matter....as long as he was reconciling, both mentally, visually, tactily, that we had indeed gone through Canada up to the Northern part of the world, I knew things would be ok.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had asked Pooper, "How will you know if this guy wasnt a fraud?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If he gives me everything on my list" he said, matter of factly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Usually, my kids are allowed to pick one item, but this year, Pooper had picked two.  Prior to our trip, I had talked with him about it, and let him know that it wasnt right to ask for so much, and there was just no way he was going to get two big things.  Not to mention, the things were; 1. a drum set, which I just wouldnt allow, due to noise and neighbors, and 2. a Nintendo DS, which was not only expensive, but violated our household rule of no electronic games (not because we are against electronic games, per se, but the free games on the computer seem just fine to me, I dont want to get sucked into an entire "system" that you need to keep feeding.)  Pooper sobbed, letting me know that all his friends had the Nintendo, and they talked about it at school.....I held my ground, but it was ultimately out of my hands, as Santa didnt always listen to my advice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Besides, Pooper reminded me, that Santa doesnt have to pay money, he makes everything for free....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On our trip to the North Pole, when Pooper was chatting with the big guy, he gave him his list, asking for the drums and Nintendo.  Santa said he could have them both!  Although, he said, "Im out of red drums (which Pooper had wanted) but I can get you some blue ones."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, what a surprise Christmas morning, when the first thing Pooper saw, was blue drums....and a nintendo was under the tree too.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Additionally, there was a book, unwrapped, aside the fire place, with a note....It was the Autobiographpy of Santa Claus, the book that he had recommended to Pooper, in order to understand Santa's magic.  He had left it, reminding Pooper that this was the book with the answers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pooper hasnt read the book, I dont think it's necessary anymore, thank goodness.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Santa is real, and Pooper knows it.  Thanks to Santa's magic, and very generous grandparents!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"&gt;
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&lt;/script&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1351047022817723850-7092839183267269683?l=heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/feeds/7092839183267269683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1351047022817723850&amp;postID=7092839183267269683' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/7092839183267269683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/7092839183267269683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/2008/12/real-thing.html' title='The Real Thing'/><author><name>heartshapedhedges</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02081767672670551851</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16707246844985161167'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1351047022817723850.post-3558620515415145584</id><published>2008-12-23T07:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-23T08:44:19.717-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The day Santa died........</title><content type='html'>Well, first of all, he didnt really die, just his spirit seems to have evaporated in the mind of Pooper.  And, maybe not even that, maybe it's just a temporary lapse......let me explain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pooper has been 100% on-board with Santa.  It's Pooper that reminds us that Santa doesnt have to pay for the toys, so there is no limit to what we can ask for.....or about how he can magically do things....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beauty loves Santa, but she doesnt seem as riveted by his magic, but Pooper, he is!  or....was?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Several weeks ago, My Honey and I made plans to take the kids on the Polar Express.   Actually, not the Grand Canyon one....but one up in Fillmore, called the, "North Pole Express."  Fillmore is about 3 hours away, just north of Los Angeles.  My Honey knew a colleague that had gone with her kids and she said it was fabulous.  We had wanted to go for so long to the Polar Express, but it is several hours away, so this Fillmore option seemed perfect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kids had no idea about this surprise, and as Christmas has drawn closer, they have been concerned that we hadnt made our annual trak to the mall to chat with the old guy.  They believe that if you dont tell him what you want, that you wont get everything....(this is Pooper's belief)...but that you will only get part of what you want, because you didnt make the effort to come and see Santa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, Pooper has been worried that he wont get his desired list....really worried.  Beauty, well, she doesnt even have a list, she finally decided she wants some, "fashion", but that's it.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, as we took our car in to get the window fixed, Pooper wondered if we would be able to squeeze in a trip to the mall to see Santa, I (always turning our outtings into ADVENTURES) told him I had called the mall, and Santa had already packed up and was headed back to the North Pole.  This, naturally, upset my kids, and as soon as I saw their devastation, I quickly told them, that WE WERE GOING TO TRACK HIM DOWN!  Daddy was leaving work early, and if we could get the window fixed on the car, we would drive up to an old train that would take us to see Santa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*** Note***  I was unsure what the "story" would be on this train...would they make the claim that we were actually at the North Pole?  I wasnt willing to make such promises to my kids, so I simply said, "I dont know how, but they are going to try to go as far as they can to find Santa, ON HIS WAY to the North Pole."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pooper, naturally had lots of questions, and he was very excited at the prospect of breaking a world record!  You see, he seemed to know that the youngest person to go to the Arctic was 4 years old, and this would allow Little One the new honor.  He also began calculating how long it would actually take to get to the Arctic, the path to get there (he noted crossing bodies of water!) and many times throughout the day, he became filled with excitement as he would, "get to go to a new continent!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This all spelled big trouble to me, and I reminded him, that I wasnt sure if we were going to the North Pole, or just finding Santa on his way....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In any case, I TRUSTED, that this company that had developed this fantasy had done what was necessary to make it special, and REAL.  You know???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, we left our house around 2pm....but I purposely kept saying that it was "lunch time", hoping to create an optical illusion re: the time we would travel.  We stopped for "dinner" at 4pm up near Valencia, "WAY passed LA"...and then, "drove longer until it was dark" (another hour) to get to the station in Fillmore.  I was proud of myself, because, with the help of a setting sun, I had made the children believe we had been driving "all day, for many hours" and Pooper now believed we had gone passed San Francisco.  Yes, I had done MY PART to help authenticate this journey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We arrived in Fillmore, a sleepy old town, which in the dark, appeared to be a migrant town for workers of the avocado farms and vineyards.  There was a Santa's Village set up, with a small carousel ....funny thing about the carousel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was watching while My Honey rode around with the girls, and I noticed a rather large boy on a horse...well, he wasnt actually, ON the horse, as he purposely slid himself from side to side, laughing (and bumping into the "first time dad" holding his daughter on the horse next door.)  Apparently, it was his grandparents standing next to me, and they gave commentary as the ride progressed:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grandma: "JEREMY! sit still, you are kicking that man!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grandpa:  he cant sit still, he doesnt fit on that seat, so he is cutting up to cope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grandma:  "JEREMY! STOP THAT!  Sit still!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This went on, and I kid you not, as Jeremy passed each time, I could hear the creaking of the old wooden planks that secured his horse, they clearly seemed to be at their limit!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhoo....eventually (7:20pm) we heard the whistle and boarded the old, antique train.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The company clearly asserted that we would indeed be heading all the way up to the North Pole.  My kids were nearly bursting with excitement as we settled into our seats...Pooper with his face pressed against the window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As our journey began, "Elves" came and passed out cookies, milk,  ....everyone was filled with joy, except for my son, who was staring in disbelief out the window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The train was going, approximately, 6.5 miles per hour, and Pooper turned to me and said, "We're never going to get there at this speed!"...I asked an elf if the train would start going faster soon, and she said, "No, the tracks are wet, and we need to be careful of 'slippage'"....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok, first, what the heck is "slippage"????  The metrolink takes people up and down the state, every day, rain or shine, with no slippage.  Secondly, I knew darn well, that if we never went any faster, Pooper's investment in Santa would have some serious "slippage"....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said to the lady, in a quiet voice, "Two plus two makes four, and this one will never believe we made it to the North Pole at this rate."....and she answered loudly, "It's Santa Magic!  We WILL get to the North Pole, with Santa Magic!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever...I remained hopeful, and the train plugged along......and from the window, we could see the cars, going much faster than us, on the freeway that paralleled the tracks.  (really!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At one point, Pooper turned to me and said, "I can ride my bike faster than this train!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He seemed genuinely upset.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During our ride, elves lead the group is boisterous rounds of Christmas carols, and read stories....and while everyone joined in, Pooper sat with his angry face pressed up to the window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the conductor announced that we were heading into the North POle.....everyone focused out the window, and cheered as they saw Santa waving at them.  Santa was outside, in front of his stiped pole, and his little shack titled, "The North Pole."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While others cheered and hollered with glee, Pooper burst out, "That's it??!!  There's not even snow!!"  Clearly the Christmas songs were not enough to distract him from the farm animals, dirt, trees, and parallel roads that were clearly visible from the window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Honey and I went into overdrive with reasons why he had just spotted a cow, "Well, Im sure there are some families, somewhere, that are asking Santa for a cow to help with their farming, so he needs to have cows here to give to people!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pooper:  A cow would die at the North Pole.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We told him all about Santa Magic, reminded him of the "hours and hours of all day journeying to get to this point"....I even had him believing we had gone through parts of Canada, and more.....  I also threw in my motherly, "dont be so ungrateful!  Many starving children would be so thankful to come on this train to see Santa!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But his face was down, and his heart was heavy, and I didnt know if we could do anything to change it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DANG IT!!  Id rather have not come at all, then to waste all this time, just to kill his dream.  If we had stayed home, he would be a full-on believer, now, thanks to POOR PLANNING ON THE PART OF THE "North Pole Express" company.....He was a serious doubter.  I was kind of mad, and felt ripped off too.....I quickly multiplied the cost of the ticket, times the 500+ people that came each night (they mentioned such)....and wondered, "Could they not invest in a backdrop of snow???? or at least make some efforts to appear to be in the North Pole???"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhoo... finally, we told Pooper, "I dont know these mysteries, you'll have to ask Santa."  ...and he did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the train ride, we waited in the 30 degree winds to talk to Santa, and Pooper asked him how we got to the North Pole so quickly, when the train was driving slow...and Santa told him that there was an entire book about the magic of Santa, and told Pooper if he read it, it would answer his questions.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pooper left, still unsure, (and now wanting that book)....he said the test will be, if he gets the items written on the list he gave to Santa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I happen to have some insider information, and the prospect is hopeful, that the gifts under the tree will help to restore some of Santa's magic...Ill keep you posted!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"&gt;
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&lt;/script&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1351047022817723850-3558620515415145584?l=heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/feeds/3558620515415145584/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1351047022817723850&amp;postID=3558620515415145584' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/3558620515415145584'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/3558620515415145584'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/2008/12/day-santa-died.html' title='The day Santa died........'/><author><name>heartshapedhedges</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02081767672670551851</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16707246844985161167'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1351047022817723850.post-2894433988789970098</id><published>2008-12-22T12:13:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-22T12:55:34.625-08:00</updated><title type='text'>How I spend my time</title><content type='html'>It's been way too long since I have ranted on this blog.  In the chance that there may be one reader that is still checking back to find out how the kids and I are doing...I thought I would update.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Id love to tell you all about the delicious life I lead as a Dove Chocolatier, so here goes;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I spent the morning at the glass shop, for the 2nd time.  Glass, as in, my passenger car window is broken, and since it's unsafe to ride around in the rain with the wind flapping against the non-see-through plastic trash bag that is afixed to my car with duct tape, and I need the glass shop to repair the window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How might a glamour-puss, such as myself, come to find herself in need of a new passenger window?  Let me answer that for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over a week ago, I was at a Live Nativity, held at the park in my neighborhood.  My Honey and I organize it each year, which includes renting farm animals.  After the Nativity, the animal handler and her son got the donkey, goats and sheep back into the truck, and I went to my van to retrieve my checkbook, so to pay them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pay attention to this part:  I went to my van, (obviously had my car key, as I did indeed open the van.)  I then went to the animal truck, where I placed my checkbook on the passenger seat as I filled out the amount.  I then tried to get back into my van, but could not find the key.  Of course, the animal truck had already taken off, bound back to San Diego (an hour drive), and I didnt have their cell number.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was an off chance, that they key was actually inside MY van.  An off chance.  The night sky did not allow me enough light to see in clearly, but since I didnt have a lot of choices besides putting my track skills into action and chasing down the truck with animals, I called the towing company to get them to open my van (in hopes of finding my key.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Honey and my 3 freezing children were waiting patiently.  Ok, they werent patient at all.  My Honey was upset that I had not been more responsible, and my children were hitting each other and crying and not listening to either parent.  And then we waited for the tow truck guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He immediately tried to connect with my kids, and told my 8 year old, "My name is the same as one of your Sesame Street friends!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pooper:  Oscar?  Elmo?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:  Bert? Ernie?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BINGO...his name was Ernie, and he was here to save the day, or else really botch it up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After 45 minutes of failed attempts to open the van door, and just minutes shy of my children frying my last nerve, he had some success and the car alarm sounded, indicating he had opened the door.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With the alarm blaring, I searched, and searched, and there was no key!  Really!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ernie drove My Honey back to our house, and then My Honey drove back to get us in his car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Long story short, we eventually got the key (and I do mean LONG STORY).....but for the purposes of this post, and my visit to the glass shop, you dont need to know more about the key.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What you may want to know, is that once the key was found, and I was driving in the van, it came to happen, that I rolled down the passenger side window, only to find that it would not roll back up.  Instead it made some grinding noises.  My mind went back to a few nights prior, to when The Muppet had thrashed around inside my passenger door with his long metal bar.  Great!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, to paraphrase:  window broken, storm was coming, My Honey taped up the van with plastic bags and I looked like a real winner driving around with a Hefty duct taped to my vehicle.  AND, throw in the wind, and a bag that flapped itself out of position, and you get the idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now....I went to the glass shop the 1st time, and he jimmy rigged the window back into place, until the part arrived.  Good!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, last night, with a rain storm approaching, the glass slipped back down into the window, making it necessary for me to return today, to get the whole thing fixed.  The part they ordered, the window motor, was in, and would just take an hour to fix.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kids were on their best behavior, as we have an important trip to take tonight, to the Polar Express....another long story, but if they are going to see Santa, we are going to drive, and take a train, and try to see him on his last stop before Christmas.  So, they are amped, anticipation is high, and it all makes for a dramatic approach to Chriatmas.  But we cant go without the window on the car, so that's what we did this morning, with plans to leave on our trip to see Santa at around 1pm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; And, since it wouldnt be as exciting to just sit and wait at the glass shop, I spent some time on the phone getting the insurance to send the paperwork, so that the repair costs would be covered without making me broke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While Im on the phone with the insurance adjuster, Little One announces with a hurried tone, "Ive gotta go poop!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With my cell phone pressed up to my ear, I scan the room for a bathroom, and see NONE.  I finally get a worker who points me in the direction across the warehouse, and Beauty, Little One and myself all scoot across to the restroom.  Once inside, I realize the light and fan are on the same wall switch, and I cant quite hear the adjuster on the phone when Im in the bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I step outside, and somehow, in the 2 minutes I was out of the bathroom, Little One manages to get poop all over herself and the toilet, not to mention, I need a new Pull Up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Im still on the phone with the insurance gal, who is trying to get the paperwork together to send to the glass guy.  She is asking me questions, and I try to answer, as I balance the cell phone against my shoulder, while wiping poop off my child.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am ever mindful, that the paper towels being used to wipe the poop, will most likely clog the toilet, which will only add to the hilarity of the situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Im trying to get the poop under control, I really cant even hear the lady on the phone, because of the loud fan, however, if I turn off the fan, and the light, I cant really see the poop well enough to clean.  And, oh, did I mention Little One was crying?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another long story shortened, we cleaned the poop up, we got the insurance issue handled, and drove away in our van with the new window motor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, we will scurry up to the North Pole, making a last ditch effort to see Santa before Christmas.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can you see, why I havent had a lot of time to post?  or, has the last reader left, and Im writing this to myself?  If you write a post on blogspot, and nobody reads it, is it really there?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Merry Christmas!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"&gt;
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&lt;/script&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1351047022817723850-2894433988789970098?l=heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/feeds/2894433988789970098/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1351047022817723850&amp;postID=2894433988789970098' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/2894433988789970098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/2894433988789970098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/2008/12/how-i-spend-my-time.html' title='How I spend my time'/><author><name>heartshapedhedges</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02081767672670551851</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16707246844985161167'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1351047022817723850.post-3153645825592072228</id><published>2008-11-08T20:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-08T20:51:27.154-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Boogie Fever</title><content type='html'>Does anyone remember that song, Boogie Fever?  I love that song, and that catchy line in the chorus, "I think it's going around and around and around."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, well, just as *catchy*, yet not quite as enjoyable, is lice.  Lice, as in little crabs that hatch in your hair and crawl around biting your scalp, drinking your blood and making your head itch.  Those lice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week, I got the ol' letter..."someone has lice, please check your child, blah blah blah blah blah."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, to regress to an older post, another random fact about me, Im a lice officianado.  Truly.  My years at the orphanage were good for many things, and one was for making me an expert in lice.  I can spot them like nobody else, and have spent (undoubtedly) hundreds of hours plucking them from the hairs of children. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Interesting tid bit (interesting being a questionable term).....when children are removed from home and made wards of the court...the court is the child's guardian.  The court makes all decisions; medical, educational, where the child will live, etc. etc.  But the one thing the court cant do (and I think it is the one and only thing, besides taking the child out of state - and even that can be done with some paperwork), is cut the child's hair.  No kidding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, when a child comes in, with lots of hair, and super-lice are jumping off their head like flies on poop, we cant cut that child's hair.  Even considering that the child will be housed with tens of other children, in close living quarters (where they all sleep in the same room)....you still cant cut the hair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can put the hair into many little pony tails and try to keep it from blowing in the wind, but you cant cut it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, that's a scenario that was pretty common, and it gave me great experience in identifying lice, and trying to treat it with all the shampoos, etc.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward, the note that got sent home from school with the kids.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unlike many moms, lice doesnt freak me out much, Ive had it a bunch (thanks to hairy children who are wards of the court) and I know it's not a huge big deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After I got the letter from school, I checked Beauty and Pooper's hair, and they were fine.  As it turns out, 2 girls in Pooper's class have them, but he was clear, so no big deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;UNTIL TODAY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took the girls to get their hair cut (monday is that time of year - family Christmas photo time!)  Everything was fine, they looked cute, and as we were leaving, I saw a friend, and so I stuck around and chatted a while.  I say this, because the hairdresser continued to cut the next person, she did not act freaked out, or super-sterilize her station.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I finally went to go home, I put Little One into her car seat, and immediately noticed the ashen colored nats moving about her fair scalp.  UM, TOTALLY LICE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked some more, and saw another.  OMG.  WE. HAVE. LICE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Surely, the hairdresser must have seen them.  She washed, cut, and then parted Little One's hair, making those cute little twistie tie, pony tails....there is no way she would have missed them, they are clear as day on Little One's fair hair. However, Im also wondering, if Elise picked them up there?  WHO KNOWS?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I said it wasnt a big deal, and it's not....when you are single.  But with 3 kids and a hubby, it equates to incredible amounts of laundry, etc.,  At the orphanage, we just threw our dirty clothes in a cart that got rolled down to the laundry room....it wasnt my job (thank goodness!)....but now it is!! (I should be fired!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I immediately checked everyone's hair when we got home, and never found any on anyone but Little One.  BUT, how did she get them??  She could have got them from Pooper...but then he would have them too.  Some of the kids from school also go to our church (although the 2 girls that have it do not.) but there is the chance that it has gone beyond those 2 girls, and Little One got it from a sibling at church.  Or was it from the hairdresser? Is that why she didnt say anything??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I may never know, so I just have to treat the whole family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that the "medicated" shampoos are not very effective, not to mention, they have chemicals that can cause leukemia....and while Ill take lice over leukemia, I had to get one good shampooing in.  After that, the only real way to get rid of them is to pick them out, one by one. seriously.  The combs are not that good, you just have to hunt them down and use your fingernails.  I know gross.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One little trick, is to slather your head in vaseline, as it smothers the lice.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, after stripping everyone down, and doing the pesticidal shampooing (careful not to go blind), I smeared petroleum jelly throughout everyone's head.  This is great, except for the fact that it takes about a week of daily shampooing to get all the grease out.  Which, doesnt bode well for family pictures on Monday (that can not be rescheduled.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So....long story short......I read that putting corn starch in the hair, and using a clarifying shampoo.....is the best way to get rid of the vaseline.  Tomorrow morning, (because we cant go to church looking like grease heads)....I will try to shampoo everyone's vaseline out, and then sit and look for bugs to pull out with my fingernails, one at a time.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, if that doesnt make you want to get up and do the Buggie Fever, I mean, Boogie Fever, I dont know what else would!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"&gt;
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&lt;/script&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1351047022817723850-3153645825592072228?l=heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/feeds/3153645825592072228/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1351047022817723850&amp;postID=3153645825592072228' title='21 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/3153645825592072228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/3153645825592072228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/2008/11/boogie-fever.html' title='Boogie Fever'/><author><name>heartshapedhedges</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02081767672670551851</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16707246844985161167'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>21</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1351047022817723850.post-6674093059113015275</id><published>2008-11-01T13:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-01T14:14:43.020-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I've been tagged!</title><content type='html'>I haven't been "tagged" much lately.  Ive been sort of on the sidelines of blogville, busy getting incredibly misquoted in magazines like &lt;a href="http://www.ocmetrom.com"&gt; THIS ONE &lt;/a&gt;  (although Im thankful for ANY exposure!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the other day, my friend &lt;a href="http://www.theranchgirl.blogspot.com"&gt; KJ  &lt;/a&gt; tagged me, with the simple task of listing, "7 random things about myself."  Easy enough, except, what's considered random?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cant list about my conservative politics, because, that's not really random.  Ive never kept my opinions secret, so you all already know about THAT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont think there is much about my kids that is random, their faces and embarassing moments have been plastered across the information superhighway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, let me try to find some things that are R. an D. Om &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  The joint on my foot, near my big toe, protrudes a bit, and my sister-in-law says I have a, "hammer toe"  (nice!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  When I was single, I wore a diamond ring on my wedding finger, to allow myself the freedom to go out dancing without having guys try to pick up on me (as if, there was such a rush....but I did like to have fun in peace....not that all guys respect a ring on that finger anyways!)  now...that I am married, and no longer go out dancing.....I dont wear a ring on that finger.  My finger got to fat for my wedding ring, so I am ringless.  Oh the irony.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  My kindergarten teacher, now teaches at the school my children attend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  I never liked the Michael Jackson, Thriller album.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  The only cooked vegetable I like, is corn. (did you already know that?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.  Im afraid to go to sleep if Im the only adult in the house.  Not that My Honey is much protection....if you wake him when he's sleeping (to let him know about a possible intruder, for example) he is so disoriented and loud (ie. "HUH? WHAT? HUH? ) that it's not really very protective in the case of a real intruder anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.  I am the smartest person in my family (again, probably not a big secret, but Im checking to see who reads here :) )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, there you have it.  7 RAndoM things about me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who shall I tag?  Ill think about that and tag them in the next post.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"&gt;
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&lt;/script&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1351047022817723850-6674093059113015275?l=heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/feeds/6674093059113015275/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1351047022817723850&amp;postID=6674093059113015275' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/6674093059113015275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/6674093059113015275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/2008/11/ive-been-tagged.html' title='I&apos;ve been tagged!'/><author><name>heartshapedhedges</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02081767672670551851</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16707246844985161167'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1351047022817723850.post-283731235677106934</id><published>2008-10-28T23:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-28T23:55:09.829-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What if the gift horse pees on your leg?</title><content type='html'>Im feeling stuck.  Emotionally, Im torn between being excited and annoyed.  Happy and disappointed.  It's like my limbic system is on a seasaw or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently, I did a phone interview with a popular, community magazine.  The man asked me questions about my Dove Chocolate business (I know, what else, right?)  I noticed during our conversation, that he quite frequently repeated things back to me INACCURATELY.  I would gently correct him, and even asked if I would get to read the article before going to print, so that I could make sure the info was right.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writer:  Oh dont worry, a "Fact Checker" will call you and go over the entire article, and make sure all the details are correct.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:  Ok, super!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I knew the magazine was going to be distributed tomorrow morning.  And, as of yet, I havent received contact from any, "Fact Checker".  I wondered if perhaps, the article was postponed for another issue....and that bummed me out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight, I decided to search the magazine website, and guess what, Im in this issue!!  Woo Hoo!   And guess what else?  I couldnt get past the first paragraph without stumbling through one error after another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For example, In his introduction, he describes me as a "physical therapist" (Im a psychotherapist)...and he says I teach at my children's school (actually, Im a mommy helper that volunteers a few hours a week.)  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realize I should be grateful for the exposure, and I am, but, GEESH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The writer goes on to say we have "heart shaped chocolate"....Im not sure if he got confused about our "heart shaped fondue pot" or how we have decorative heart designs you can imprint onto chocolate candies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It doesnt help, that My Honey read it, and made a face.  Not a happy, smiley face either!  I was hoping he would say, "wow, that's a great article, dont worry about the little inaccuracies, they dont mean anything."  Instead I got THAT FACE, and a mumbling about how poorly written it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, a photographer even came to one of my Tasting Parties to take my picture.  He stayed over an hour, snap, snap, snapping away.  Nice guy.  Imagine my glee when I see that the picture they chose to publish looks like I am lecturing about the dangers of Hamas or something.  I dont look happy or fun!  Was that really his best picture? Of the hundreds he snapped, that was the one they chose?!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess it doesnt matter, does it?  I feel guilty even being annoyed, because, I shouldnt look a gift horse in the mouth, or whatever, right?   But what if the gift horse gallops in the wrong direction or pees on my leg? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow morning, I will call Dove's corporate office and let them know about the article.  They like to be make aware any time we are in the media.  Im hoping the company President, a darling lady named Betty, likes it, even if she's referred to as BETH!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"&gt;
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&lt;/script&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1351047022817723850-283731235677106934?l=heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/feeds/283731235677106934/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1351047022817723850&amp;postID=283731235677106934' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/283731235677106934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/283731235677106934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/2008/10/what-if-gift-horse-pees-on-your-leg.html' title='What if the gift horse pees on your leg?'/><author><name>heartshapedhedges</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02081767672670551851</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16707246844985161167'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1351047022817723850.post-4567396746741125087</id><published>2008-10-23T21:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-23T21:49:02.347-07:00</updated><title type='text'>glimpses into a 43rd birthday</title><content type='html'>I think it was meant to be a gift, that My Honey left for work without waking me, I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My kids didnt mind waking me, not with birthday wishes, but with their typical morning loudness and climbing into my bed.  I asked my daughter if there daddy had left anything special for me, like FLOWERS or something, she said NO.  I pressed her, thinking she might have been covering for a surprise, but she assured me, there was nothing waiting for me.  She remembered it was my birthday though, and then she and Pooper ran downstairs.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew they were up to something, so I did what a good mom does, and checked my email.  Periodically, Beauty would come up and chit chat, and remind me that nothing was going on downstairs, but gave me strict orders to stay in my room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I poked my head out of my room, asking for permission to take a shower, and they got QUITE UPSET, thinking I might be coming out.....I assured them, I would just be in my shower, and they said, OK.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Midway through my shower, Beauty came up to tell me that if I heard a weird noise, they had it under control.  At that point, honestly, it didnt matter...I was enjoying probably the only 45 seconds of serenity that I would get for the entire day, and was in no hurry to find out about noises.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not long after coming out of the shower, I was greeted by my darlings.  Beauty carried a tray (a special thing to grill veggies on the BBQ) that had a 1/2 eaten, left-over McDonalds Hot Fudge Sundae; an apple, some spice-gum drops, a bowl of freshly popped popcorn, and a nutri-grain bar.  WOW! As she handed it to me, with her proud smile, Pooper threw home-made confetti at me, It was a party!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all sat on the bed and ate breakfast together.  Little One had dibs on the ice cream sundae, and nobody dared interfere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They had made me a card, with glitter pens and plastic rhinestones, it's beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pooper and Beauty sang their new favorite Bday song....which Pooper's heard for the first time from his teacher, just days ago, at his own Bday...and then it was sung again at Disneyland:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is your birthday song&lt;br /&gt;It isnt very long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's it!!  That was my birthday song...so fun!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day was marked by a Field Trip to the Fire Dept.  I was a chapperone for Beauty's class, and we had fun holding hands most of the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After housework, chocolate work, and taking the kids to swim practice, I called My Honey to figure out what he wanted to do for dinner.  He was going to be working late, so the kids and I had Del Taco.  Hurray!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ended the night by passing out Yes On Prop 4 signs.....  I had the gift of a birthday, the least I could do is pass that on to the unborn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for the birthday wishes.....My best birthday present was 8 years ago, when I took Pooper home on my bday.  Every year since is a precious gift, God healed his cancer and each year that he is here for my bday, is amazing.  I was lucky to spend my bday with all of my kids.  No need for fancy restaurants or jewelry.....  I have the most precious things a mom could want!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"&gt;
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&lt;/script&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1351047022817723850-4567396746741125087?l=heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/feeds/4567396746741125087/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1351047022817723850&amp;postID=4567396746741125087' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/4567396746741125087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/4567396746741125087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/2008/10/glimpses-into-43rd-birthday.html' title='glimpses into a 43rd birthday'/><author><name>heartshapedhedges</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02081767672670551851</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16707246844985161167'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1351047022817723850.post-3228632782570746486</id><published>2008-10-22T23:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-22T23:45:00.824-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Warning Signs</title><content type='html'>Ok, Im a total blogging flake, Im sorry........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that I have that out of the way, I figured I should write SOMETHING, since &lt;a href="http://www.askgrandmaj.blogspot.com"&gt; Grandma J &lt;/a&gt; has linked folks here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those of you that are younger than me, I thought I would just warn you about a few things that lie ahead;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Your personality might change.  As a professional in the psychology field, we were always taught that certain personality characteristics never change, one of them being introversion/extroversion.  I have always been a 10+ on the Myers-Briggs, as a full on extrovert.  Being in crowds was such a thrill, I love concerts, Fairs, chaos and people....it was an adrenaline rush.  The idea of being, for example, in Time Square at midnight, sounded SO.EXCITING.  But guess what, at least for me, this has all changed.  Im now about a 4 on the scale, at best.  I no longer like crowds or even noise.  Take for example, our recent trip to Disneyland.  It bugged me to all heck to have people breathing on me in line, or with their knees poking into my back as we waited on Main Street for the parade.  We found a spot on the parade route 2 hours early, for the express reason of getting a large area.  I spread myself, my things, my children, the stroller, etc. to make sure that we have ample room.  My Honey does not understand why I take up so much room, and I remind him that if we give people an inch of space, they will take it, and we need A BUFFER!  Sure enough, by the time the parade starts, people are touching me and pushing on me, I DIDNT GET THERE 2 HOURS EARLY TO HAVE MY BOUNDARIES VIOLATED PEOPLE!  Even in the movies, I can not stand people being directly behind me, because they will inevitably talk, kick the seat, and....CHEW LOUDLY!  I no longer like to go to crowded places, but prefer to just sit on my fat rear watching events on TV.  Im telling you people, personalities do change, people do get old and crochety, Im living proof!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Wrinkles happen.  I vividly remember looking in the mirror when I was 28 and being so troubled by my first crows feet.  Hello, now, I think of that day and shake my head.  Because that was nothing compared to today.  I now have deep trenches and valleys etched across my forehead, and I appear to be a smoker, thanks to my mouth wrinkles (even though I am a staunch anti-smoker!)  Somehow, over time, the wrinkles happened, slowly, slyly, and it would take a lot of botox to even begin to make things better.....but Im not ruling it out....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Which leads me to another thing that happens....if you are one of those people who adamantly opposes plastic surgery and stuff....dont go making any costly bets that you'll never do it.  Trust me people, it stinks to have wrinkles, bags, dark circles and sun damage.  Not to mention, a lap band wouldnt hurt.  So, personalities change, and so do opinions on plastic surgery.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Even if you feel like you could dance on the table, dont do it, your back will hurt in the morning, if you dont fall of the table first and break an ankle.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. If you join the Fan Club of a certain HOT BAND (INXS), you have now become like the blue haired, Wayne Newton fans.  Even if you feel like a teen, you arent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are just some of the things that happen when you age....in case you were wondering.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"&gt;
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&lt;/script&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1351047022817723850-2369608336737005371?l=heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/feeds/2369608336737005371/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1351047022817723850&amp;postID=2369608336737005371' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/2369608336737005371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/2369608336737005371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/2008/10/aye-maties.html' title='Aye Maties!'/><author><name>heartshapedhedges</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02081767672670551851</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16707246844985161167'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1351047022817723850.post-6640064754676617041</id><published>2008-09-15T12:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-15T12:12:59.570-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life Interrupted</title><content type='html'>It's funny, that as the kids scooted off to school (great 1st day pics, which will be up when my IT guy uploads them...), my life slowed down.  Suddenly, it was just me, and Little One (who is napping for 3-4 hours of the day), and you would have thought I would have started a blogging frenzy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead, I decided to spend my free time cleaning my house.  All my baseboards are dust free, the laundry room floor is visible, and....ERrrrr.....sorry, I didnt mean to lie, I was just caught up in a dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually, I have had more free time, but it has been poured into &lt;a href="http://www.dove-chocolate-discoveries.com/kim"&gt; my little chocolate business.  &lt;/a&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know it sounds frivolous, and silly, and unimportant, but I really believe that God is going to use this to help us crawl out of all the medical debt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today marks my 3 month anniversary with Dove Chocolates, and did you know that last week they announced our standing in a new incentive program, and guess who has the most points in the country??  go ahead, guess?  It's me!!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dove chocolates is not new, Mars. Inc is the parent company..makers of M&amp;Ms and Snickers, and they have been around FOREVER.  But the "at-home party" line, is new, and honestly, to be at the beginning of a new direct-sales company, is a blessing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I have been busy building my team, and having "chocolate tasting parties", and it's left me too pooped to blog.  I mean, I still find time to do the important things, like leave snarky comments on &lt;a href="http://www.askgrandmaj.blogspot.com"&gt; Grandma J's blog &lt;/a&gt;, but too tired to journal on my own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus, most of what has been going on has been excitement about my new endeavor, and I figured you all didnt want to hear about THAT....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Id have put up some fun pictures of my kids with their new baby cousin Sophia, or Baby Preston (who is almost 1 year old!!)....but my IT guy has been busy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for Pooper's tests....he hasnt had any yet!  He feels and looks fine, and Im sure he is, and Ill let you know when the tests are done so we can just confirm that he his well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funny thing...Pooper and I had just laid down to take a nap, and he said, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pooper:  Am I average?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: (thinking of all the ways he is exceptional)...Um, yeah, you are avarage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pooper:  Are YOU average?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:  (thinking of all the ways that *I* am exceptional, lol)  Sure, Im average.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pooper:  Oh, good, then just close your eyes, because I read that if the average person closes their eyes and keeps them shut for 7 minutes, they will fall asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All those sleepless nights, apparently, I just needed to close my eyes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**be back soon ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"&gt;
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&lt;/script&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1351047022817723850-6640064754676617041?l=heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/feeds/6640064754676617041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1351047022817723850&amp;postID=6640064754676617041' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/6640064754676617041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/6640064754676617041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/2008/09/life-interrupted.html' title='Life Interrupted'/><author><name>heartshapedhedges</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02081767672670551851</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16707246844985161167'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1351047022817723850.post-1024007022049735176</id><published>2008-09-01T09:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-01T09:48:47.939-07:00</updated><title type='text'>you asked for it</title><content type='html'>Ok, some of my two readers have asked me to put up pictures, wondering what I look like.  So, I put up one of the only pics that I have....which is now my official HSH picture...see it?  The one &lt;a href="http://www.askgrandmaj.blogspot.com"&gt; Grandma J &lt;/a&gt; calls my, "Pineapple Princess" picture....because it was taken with one of the floral crowns on my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a time in my life, when I wore cute clothes and shopped at the Liz Claiborne store...now, thanks to an increased size, compliments of Marble Slab Creamery, I usually can be seen wearing my old maternity clothes....as you can imagine, that doesnt make me want to jump in front of the camera.  So, there are few pictures of me....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HOWEVER, on Friday, you may get to see me, in my finest.  Finest meaning, I took Pooper to do a video clip for the Stand Up 2 Cancer benefit (airing on all major networks this Friday)....and I had laryngitis, and my voice sounded like a tranny smoker (no offense to transvestites or smokers, or those who are both.)  And, while he was doing his interview, and recounting his journey, and listing off all of his friends in Heaven, I began to cry, just a bit.  And then, the directors asked me to come stand in front of the cameras....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Normally, I would have been all hammy and got on my soapbox and told them about childhood cancer, and how the kids are usually left out of research dollars, blah blah blah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I was off track, crying, and trying to say very little, as my voice was totally gone...and when your voice is gone, and your crying, trust me, you sound hideous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, it's not about me...I realize that, so, Im encouraging you watch, to have fun laughing at me, to be touched by the many stories of bravery and loss, for you to say, "wow, Pooper is so handsome!"....just watch!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if you would join our team, I would be grateful.  We are one of the largest, and the top teams will be recognized during the broadcast.  Just go to &lt;a href="http://www.su2c.org"&gt; www.su2c.org &lt;/a&gt;  When you join our team, you can put "kids with cancer" in the search engine.  The bald boy with the feeding tube....that's Pooper, just a few years ago.  Please join us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And for those wondering...those heading up SU2C heard us, and pediatric organizations are now represented!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you can also donate, I would be very appreciative.  I know times are tough, but you can only imagine how tough it is for kids fighting cancer.  If you can give big, please do.  If you cant, please consider giving up something...a latte, a lunch, turn your computer off for a day and donate the reduction in your electric bill (LOL, sorry, I realize that would be 1/2 a cent.)....Clean out your car or between the cushions of your furniture...and donate the change.  Do I sound desperate for donations?  In all reality, these kids are desperate for donations.  Really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"&gt;
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&lt;/script&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1351047022817723850-1024007022049735176?l=heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/feeds/1024007022049735176/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1351047022817723850&amp;postID=1024007022049735176' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/1024007022049735176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1351047022817723850/posts/default/1024007022049735176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartshapedhedges.blogspot.com/2008/09/you-asked-for-it.html' title='you asked for it'/><author><name>heartshapedhedges</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02081767672670551851</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16707246844985161167'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>15</thr:total></entry></feed>