<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275359218300541096</id><updated>2011-09-05T16:01:05.082-07:00</updated><category term='all about me'/><category term='just my life'/><category term='project'/><category term='church'/><category term='single life'/><category term='school story'/><title type='text'>Adventures of a Frog Hunter</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Charity</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16856375172193641099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/S1-_-R41v_I/AAAAAAAAAIY/-a7Sqn3c9SY/S220/0718092005-01.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>33</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275359218300541096.post-8934127587838353440</id><published>2010-04-11T22:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-11T22:43:13.383-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New blog</title><content type='html'>I am no longer hunting frogs.  I've found my prince so this will be my last post on this blog and it is only to inform you that Mark and I have created a new blog which you can find &lt;a href="http://firstcamelovethencame.blogspot.com/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.  (We even posted a few wedding pictures! :))  Thanks for reading all my random blogs in the past.  Add our new blog address to your favorites and keep in touch!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/275359218300541096-8934127587838353440?l=thefroghunter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/feeds/8934127587838353440/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=275359218300541096&amp;postID=8934127587838353440' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/8934127587838353440'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/8934127587838353440'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/2010/04/new-blog.html' title='New blog'/><author><name>Charity</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16856375172193641099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/S1-_-R41v_I/AAAAAAAAAIY/-a7Sqn3c9SY/S220/0718092005-01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275359218300541096.post-4627545898226958815</id><published>2009-12-31T20:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-31T21:18:14.001-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I am still enjoying last years present!</title><content type='html'>I absolutely love my Christmas present from last year. Thanks mom!! Some of you may remember &lt;a href="http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/search?updated-min=2008-01-01T00%3A00%3A00-08%3A00&amp;amp;updated-max=2009-01-01T00%3A00%3A00-08%3A00&amp;amp;max-results=15"&gt;my Christmas wishlist post from last year&lt;/a&gt;. All I wanted for Christmas was, well in short, Mark. Last Christmas moms Christmas present from me didn't make it on time so I apologized to her saying, "I'm sorry what I really wanted to get you didn't get here in time", to which she replied "same for you. I'm really working on what you really want for Christmas, but I'm just going to need a bit more time."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom took that Christmas wish seriously &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(maybe I should have asked for that a few years ago :))&lt;/span&gt; and I think she really prayed and thought about me finding someone to share my life with. I even think my dad, sisters and nieces and nephews sent a few prayers my way-poor Mark, he didn't have much of a chance once everyone started praying him into my life :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year my Christmas present from last year got to spend Christmas with me and my family.  I loved it!  Can't wait for the Christmas' and years ahead when I get to continue making memories with Mark. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope everyone had an enjoyable Christmas and I'm wishing you a Happy New Year too!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/275359218300541096-4627545898226958815?l=thefroghunter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/feeds/4627545898226958815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=275359218300541096&amp;postID=4627545898226958815' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/4627545898226958815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/4627545898226958815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/2009/12/i-am-still-enjoying-last-years-present.html' title='I am still enjoying last years present!'/><author><name>Charity</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16856375172193641099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/S1-_-R41v_I/AAAAAAAAAIY/-a7Sqn3c9SY/S220/0718092005-01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275359218300541096.post-302370687009587788</id><published>2009-11-27T07:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-31T22:03:24.699-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Initial reactions to our news</title><content type='html'>This still isn't the proposal story yet, but I thought some of these stories were worth writing down so I had to jot them down and since I did, I thought I would share a couple. I will get to the proposal story soon, I promise :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to tell my students the news that I was going to get married. Some of their reactions and remarks made me laugh. The announcement made one little little i&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;nnocent&lt;/span&gt; brown eyed boy stop what he was doing as he looked at me and asked "why?" .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No. no. no." said another little boy. "I don't want to wear a tux. I don't want to have to wear a tux" &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(Finally I realized that little boy thought he was going to be a part of my wedding so after I assured him that he wouldn't need to wear a tux if he came to my wedding just take a bath and wear clean clothes he was super excited. "okay, I'll ask my mom if I can go.")&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also drew a picture for the kids to illustrate Mark and I getting married and, of coarse, drew Mark bald. As I did I whispered to the kids "he doesn't have any hair". Most of the kids thought that was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;disgusting&lt;/span&gt; "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;eeugh&lt;/span&gt;". The next morning one of my little heartbroken little boys &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;truly&lt;/span&gt;-this little boy has been in love with me for a couple of years and when he found out that I had a boyfriend a few months ago he was crushed. I was actually a little worried about telling the class I was engaged because I didn't want to hurt him any more than he already was).&lt;/span&gt; Anyways that little boy came into my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;colleagues&lt;/span&gt; room and said "Mrs. L, Mrs. L. I have something funny to tell you. Miss Michel is going to marry a bald man!" To which he seemed to laugh inside thinking 'you've got to be kidding me. She is totally missing out on marrying me and I even have a full head of hair! Oh well, her loss.' Someday he may realize it just wouldn't have worked out for us to be together. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I told my dad that we were engaged the first words out of his mouth were "well it's about time". He again said the same thing to Mark when he saw him next. No "welcome to the family" or "congratulations". No. Just 'it's about time'. But I guess to my dad's defense Mark did ask for my hand in marriage well over a month before we got engaged so my dad had to wait a long time for this announcement&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt; Then he hugged me, which is a big deal in my family, we are not the hugging type. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(Mark had been going to ask me awhile ago. We'd been ring shopping and I knew he had bought the ring. I even knew he was planning on proposing that Thursday the 2&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;nd&lt;/span&gt; week of October, but then I got scared. It is a big decision. I needed more time to get used to the idea. But then my friend was going through the temple for the first time and I didn't want to take away from that, then &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Halloween&lt;/span&gt; came and he couldn't ask me on Halloween. So finally he was going to ask me the first week of November but ended up having to work, and yes I knew he was going to propose to me that day even though he didn't know I knew so when he had to work instead I was a bit &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;bratty&lt;/span&gt;. Finally I trying to explain my awful behavior to him I said "it's just that I thought today would be a perfect day for you to propose." To which he &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;hemmed&lt;/span&gt; and hawed around and said, "its just that. . .well, it's just that that was the plan. I was going to ask you to marry me today." "I know" I said. He seemed a little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;surprised&lt;/span&gt; that I knew, but that's what happens when you can read the other person really well. Not many surprises. That's also why he had to be extra creative when he finally did ask me to marry him the following week.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My 5 year old nephew, Braden, left me the cutest voicemail message when he heard the news. "hi this is Braden. I am so glad you finally got a ring on your finger! Okay call me back. I love you bye-bye."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My school &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;secretary&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(who also happens to be the Stake RS President)&lt;/span&gt; gave me the biggest hug and got all teary eyed. She made me cry too because I could tell she was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;genuinely&lt;/span&gt; happy for me. She told me yesterday that she's been telling people my news for days now!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My granny said I made her day. Too bad I called so late at night so that she didn't have enjoyed the new s for longer that day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lois Bird said she doesn't remember a wedding she is looking forward more than she is this one and that it would take an act of congress to keep her away from it. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(I love Sister Bird and always have. She told Mark he had to be one smart guy to know what he had with me.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mark said my mom's reaction was his favorite. We had to go to the temple to tell her and dad because they work there on Saturday. Mom was actually the first one we saw when we went in and I guess her eyes got really big and her mouth dropped open.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have already decided that when there stop being people that don't know the news I think I am going to have to stop random strangers on the street and tell them "we're getting married!" &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(Is it bad that I have already done this a few times, or is it something you would just naturally expect from me). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;It's all I can think about so naturally I think that everyone should be thinking about it too :). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. The date we've chosen is Saturday March 6th, 2010 at the Columbia River Temple 10 AM. We will have a reception that night in Mattawa. Put it on your calendars. I would love to celebrate the day with you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**Update**  We are actually getting married Friday March 5th, 2010 same time, same place.  We moved it up a day &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(but actually wish we could have moved it up a month :))&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/275359218300541096-302370687009587788?l=thefroghunter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/feeds/302370687009587788/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=275359218300541096&amp;postID=302370687009587788' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/302370687009587788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/302370687009587788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/2009/11/initial-reactions-to-our-news.html' title='Initial reactions to our news'/><author><name>Charity</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16856375172193641099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/S1-_-R41v_I/AAAAAAAAAIY/-a7Sqn3c9SY/S220/0718092005-01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275359218300541096.post-5444090261920236402</id><published>2009-11-22T21:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-23T16:36:54.013-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My new ring</title><content type='html'>Most of you already know by now, but for those of you who don't. . . Mark gave me a shiny new ring the other day :). I know most of you are hoping this is the proposal story and more information on Mark, but I hate to tell you it is not that blog. That is coming soon, I promise, but I am trying to find the right way to condense the story so in the meantime. . . my ring. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407174778081718050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/Swokz-4DLyI/AAAAAAAAAHI/jtwXn-mYWwM/s200/ring.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(This is actually a picture of the ring with the band too. Mark still has the band and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I've only been &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;allowed to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;try on once or twice-mostly just long enough to briefly admire it and snap a picture)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is kind of funny how quickly one becomes used to something. I feel naked without my ring now and I've only had it for just over a week. It is way too big for me and has this tape/paper blob on the back to keep it from falling off and I take it off to get ready in the morning but then I keep finding myself frantically thinking "ugh where's my ring? Oh there it is." Then literally 10 seconds later the exact same thing again "{gasp} where's my ring? Oh there it is" right where I left it, imagine that :). It feels so safe and comforting to put it back on again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find myself waking up in the middle of the night making sure it was still there and smiling when it still is. I then find myself flashing my hand out as if to look at my ring, then realizing that it is too dark to see it I then roll over and go back to sleep. This happens &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;continuously&lt;/span&gt; throughout the night. Silly, I know-somehow it all feels like a dream and I get so excited when I realize it is not a dream and I really am engaged to be married to Mark.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also find it funny how I used to be slightly annoyed with a girl, who was newly engaged, who kept showing her ring. It also bothered me how the first thing that someone did when they found out that a person was engaged was to grab for the girls hand and look at the ring. Unfortunately I find myself being that girl-too quickly showing my ring when I excitedly pronounce "I'm engaged!" and loving when people grab my hand to look at my beautiful ring. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(I even showed a member of our stake presidency when we had a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;YW&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; meeting this week before embarrassingly &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;realizing&lt;/span&gt; that he didn't care to see my ring, but by then it was too late. He told me congratulations anyways and then told me what I already knew: that men didn't care about those things-seeing the ring-as much as women did-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ahh&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;. . .). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I'd much rather be showing off Mark but he often is not with me so the next best thing, I guess, is the ring he gave me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is kind of a strange idea to have chosen someone I want to spend the rest of my life with. I have waited my whole life for this and now that it is here is just seems so normal. Does that make any sense? I don't know how to explain it. Being engaged to Mark makes me feel like I'm wearing my favorite pair of socks&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;,&lt;/span&gt; curled up with my favorite quilt&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;in my red leather chair. It makes me feel all cozy, safe, happy and at home. I think I'm in love with that boy! :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/275359218300541096-5444090261920236402?l=thefroghunter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/feeds/5444090261920236402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=275359218300541096&amp;postID=5444090261920236402' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/5444090261920236402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/5444090261920236402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/2009/11/my-new-ring.html' title='My new ring'/><author><name>Charity</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16856375172193641099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/S1-_-R41v_I/AAAAAAAAAIY/-a7Sqn3c9SY/S220/0718092005-01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/Swokz-4DLyI/AAAAAAAAAHI/jtwXn-mYWwM/s72-c/ring.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275359218300541096.post-1890296453643522771</id><published>2009-10-31T17:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-01T17:16:47.760-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thank you kind man!</title><content type='html'>Last night my friend and I were out to dinner at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Casa&lt;/span&gt; Mia having a fun time catching up. We talked and laughed and neither of us were in a hurry to leave so when our bills came we got our money out and just sat there still chatting away. We thought the waitress came to our tables to get our money but after quite a long while we realized the register was in the front.  We continued talking until a different waitress came to our table and said "I'll take that" and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;proceedes&lt;/span&gt; to take away our bill, not our money.  "The man who was sitting at that table over there payed for your dinner on his way out the door.  Enjoy!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait to do that for someone else.  That was so much fun.  It totally made our night.  Some kind man dining alone, with a book as his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;companion&lt;/span&gt;, paid for our dinner.  Thank you whoever you are!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/275359218300541096-1890296453643522771?l=thefroghunter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/feeds/1890296453643522771/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=275359218300541096&amp;postID=1890296453643522771' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/1890296453643522771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/1890296453643522771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/2009/10/thank-you-kind-man.html' title='Thank you kind man!'/><author><name>Charity</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16856375172193641099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/S1-_-R41v_I/AAAAAAAAAIY/-a7Sqn3c9SY/S220/0718092005-01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275359218300541096.post-828263743235547219</id><published>2009-10-29T17:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-29T19:55:37.343-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school story'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='just my life'/><title type='text'>All in a day</title><content type='html'>I need to blog about last Friday because there were just too many things that happened that day that must be accounted for.  There are no pictures and it is long and is not creatively written, it is just my day at a glance.  But if you want to read it, no one is stopping you-just be assured, I warned you before you started.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#6633FF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-large;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#3333FF;"&gt;Its Raining Its Pouring&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#3333FF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#3333FF;"&gt;Friday was scheduled for our annual Pumpkin Patch field trip with 100+ Kindergartners.  This is something they (okay we) have been looking forward to all month long, but when I woke up I realized we just might have a problem.  It was raining-of all days!!  Not much you can do but pray I thought so I did.  I was fine with the rain I told Heavenly Father, but wondered if He might let it stop for a brief time in the afternoon so we could enjoy the pumpkin patch.  And with that I was off to school. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#3333FF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#3333FF;"&gt;I had already decided we would go no matter what and figured it would work out.  Some of my co-workers and a few parents had second thoughts.  It drizzled all day but I stood by the idea that we were going until about 30 minutes before it was time to go.  It was still raining with no sign of letting up and the bus garage called giving us an out.  They said the people at the pumpkin patch were willing to reschedule until Monday and that they would have 2 drivers available that day too if we wanted to.  Oh rats.  To make a long story just a little shorter after talking to a few parents and my co-workers and checking the weather we decided to just chance it and give it a go for today.  Monday was going to be cloudy so who knew what that would entail.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#3333FF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#3333FF;"&gt;The Lord was good to us!  As we were walking out to the bus it stopped raining.  We spent 45 minutes at the pumpkin patch without a drop of rain and successfully made it back to class-dry and happy.  (On a side note Monday was just the opposite:  it was dry all day long except for the time we would have been at the pumpkin patch and it was windy, cold and pouring down rain-good thing we didn't wait!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:arial, serif;color:#33CCFF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-large;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CC0000;"&gt;Red and Itchy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CC0000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CC0000;"&gt;Because it was raining we had indoor recess and I decided to test kids on math concepts instead of having a lunch break.  Usually Cedelia and I go for walks at lunchtime but she had to supervise a class so I decided to be productive.  I called little Stevie* (name changed to protect the innocent) back to test.  As we were working on number recognition he said "Teacher look at my leg" and proceeded to pull up his pant leg.  It was red and splotchy with patches of red raised skin and patches of white skin running up the entire leg.  Humm-it didn't look right so I sent him down to the nurse to have him checked out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CC0000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CC0000;"&gt;Shortly after that she sent him back.  When a child is sent back from the nurses office I naturally assume that if it was bad she would have kept him and or called home but when that doesn't happen I naturally assume the child is fine.  So not giving it much thought we proceeded to get ready for our field trip (see above).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CC0000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CC0000;"&gt;We cut into a few pumpkins when we got back from the pumpkin patch and then it was about time to go home.  All of the sudden I looked over at little Stevie and noticed he had 3 small red blotches on his face.  Ut oh.  This isn't good.  After my EA and I looked at his chest we realized this rash or whatever it was was spreading.  His body was beginning to be red and raised with white parts in between.  I quickly sent him back to the nurses office and proceeded to get the other students cleaned up, packed up and out the door so I could go check on this little guy.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CC0000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CC0000;"&gt;By the time I got down to the office they had already put him on the bus and were calling a  few numbers for his parents with no success.  I was upset.  They didn't know what was wrong with him and hadn't communicated with anyone to keep their eye on this child in case he got worst (which he already was).  The nurse thought I was just worried about what he had being contagious and said "well he's been around kids all day so the bus ride shouldn't hurt anyone".  I hadn't thought about the other students, I was concerned about him!  It was moving upwards and at a fairly quick pace and they hadn't let anyone know.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CC0000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CC0000;"&gt;I left the office unable to think of anything else.  I called the bus garage asking them to radio his bus driver to let him know what was going on with this boy and to ask the driver to keep an eye on little Stevie.  The transportation director said the boy would be home in 20 minutes so I got off the phone and tried calling several more numbers.  We were finally able to track down his dad via his cell phone at work.  He didn't seem to understand the potiential severity of the situation or seem overly concerned but said he would call his wife and let her know (who was also at work).  We then found out that Stevie would be going home with just his 2 older brothers, the oldest of which is 12.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CC0000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CC0000;"&gt;I tried to focus on finishing out my day but couldn't think about anything else.  Finally writing down a couple of addresses and a few phone numbers Cedelia and I went off to see if we could track down this kid.  Long story shorter we finally found the unnumbered house and no one answered.  The neighbor told us the bus wasn't there yet and wouldn't be for several more minutes making what we thought was a 20 minute bus ride into over an hour bus ride for that little guy.  When he got off the bus his condition was much much worst.  His breathing wasn't labored but he was breathing with his mouth open and his body was now completely covered with red splotches.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CC0000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CC0000;"&gt;His brother was concerned that he was going to get in trouble for being home with the kids alone and kept saying "but I'm 12.  I can watch them."  I assured him that I didn't doubt that on normal days but also that I wasn't going anywhere until an adult came over so that someone could drive him to the doctor if need be.  (His parents weren't scheduled to be home until somewhere between 5:30 and 7:30.)  Realizing that I was serious the brother called his dad, again, who told him to call his mom, again, and then finally after several more minutes his mom arrived home from work.  We showed her his red and blistered bottom and told her we thought he needed medical assistance to which she agreed.  Phew.  We had done our job, covered the nurses job, and placed the child in the care of his mother.  We were off.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CC0000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CC0000;"&gt;I am very thankful for that nagging unsettled feeling that something wasn't right.  I am also glad for the rainy day that had me pulling kids to test.  I'm not sure Stevie would have shown me his legs in the midst of all that chaios if I hadn't been working with him one on one.  (The update:  mom took him to the doctor that afternoon and was given some cream.  It still didn't go away all weekend and on Sunday they took him to the emergency room where they gave him a shot.  They still don't know what caused it and he has been out of school for a few days.  I will be glad when he is back healthy and happy.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-large;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#009900;"&gt;Crash!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#009900;"&gt;I was then off to our primary program practice then off to Wal-Mart before I went home.  When I was leaving my old home teachers wife was in the entry way telling the worker that she had locked her sons keys in the truck and needed to get them out.  Was there a locksmith in town?  The man said there was but that he only accepted payment in cash and that it was $200.  For that she said she would break the window to which I said "Mona, I can take you home.  I can't do anything for your keys that are locked in the car but I can take you wherever you need to go."  So we loaded up her stuff and were on our way to see if her husband could help-well almost.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#009900;"&gt;I was backing my car out of the row and looked up just in time to see a big red van starting to back up also.  I stopped but was not able to back up more or pull forward and was hoping that he would see me and stop.  That was not the case and he crashed right into my passenger side of the car.  Ohh.  Not my newish little car.  He pulled forward and we got out to survey the damage.  To our surprise his bumper had hit my tire rim only and although paint was rubbed off his bumper and my tire rim was scraped up we called it good and were both back on our way in no time.  Phew.  That was a close call.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#009900;"&gt;Mona said it was because I was doing a good deed that's why it wasn't worst than it was.  Whatever the case I was very thankful no real damage was done and when I got home that night I was very happy to be there.  It was time to relax after a day like that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/275359218300541096-828263743235547219?l=thefroghunter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/feeds/828263743235547219/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=275359218300541096&amp;postID=828263743235547219' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/828263743235547219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/828263743235547219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/2009/10/all-in-day.html' title='All in a day'/><author><name>Charity</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16856375172193641099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/S1-_-R41v_I/AAAAAAAAAIY/-a7Sqn3c9SY/S220/0718092005-01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275359218300541096.post-4744529161161551866</id><published>2009-08-14T15:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-16T13:45:08.203-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happiness is a choice</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Yeah, I finally got my magnets that I have been working on for over 6 months! &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I've actually wanted them for over 10 years&lt;/span&gt; and they have arrived. I wanted to use them for a thought for when we visit the YW in our stake. (I had to order a million of them-I don't think I will ever run out :). I got a new camera and don't like it, but this picture will have to do for now. My experience below is one I'm going to share as part of my message to the young women and the reason I went through all the work getting them. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/Sogk8z990tI/AAAAAAAAAGs/lwwG9FQfZUs/s1600-h/happiness+photo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370583182800179922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/Sogk8z990tI/AAAAAAAAAGs/lwwG9FQfZUs/s320/happiness+photo.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I was attending college at BYU my roommate had a magnet similar to this on the front door of our apartment. Every morning before I left for the day I would take a couple of seconds to determine how I felt. Since I usually left for class fairly early in the morning most of what determined how I felt was how I had slept, what had happened the day or night before, or what lay ahead of me that day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mood would range from exhausted because I stayed up too late studying (or playing), sad or confused because the boy I currently had a crush on did not call or had not noticed me the day before, frustrated or disgusted because my roommates had once again left dirty dishes in the sink when it was their day to do them, or hopeful that I would do well on the paper or exam I had been working on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I carried on this routine for weeks. One day I realized that whatever I picked for my mood in the morning would generally be my mood for the entire day. If I picked overwhelmed, all day I would think of the things I had to do and wonder how I could possibly get them all done. If I picked lonely or shy I would often choose to sit by myself and was quiet or reserved that day. If I picked happy I would smile and laugh at the events of the day, even if it included falling on the ice in front of a cute guy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that realization I decided that no matter how I actually felt in the morning I was only allowed to pick the positive emotions happy and hopeful (occasionally I would also allow myself to feel content or lovestruck:) ).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your mind is more powerful than you may think. Choose your mood wisely.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/275359218300541096-4744529161161551866?l=thefroghunter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/feeds/4744529161161551866/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=275359218300541096&amp;postID=4744529161161551866' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/4744529161161551866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/4744529161161551866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/2009/08/happiness-is-choice.html' title='Happiness is a choice'/><author><name>Charity</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16856375172193641099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/S1-_-R41v_I/AAAAAAAAAIY/-a7Sqn3c9SY/S220/0718092005-01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/Sogk8z990tI/AAAAAAAAAGs/lwwG9FQfZUs/s72-c/happiness+photo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275359218300541096.post-7534120686069322845</id><published>2009-07-26T19:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-27T08:28:26.091-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Lists of Eights</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;8 Things I Did Yesterday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;8. Woke up on my friends couch.&lt;/strong&gt; (I have slept on so many couches this summer that when I finally came home this week to sleep in my own bed I couldn't sleep and ended up, yep you guessed it, on my own couch!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;7. Went to the Temple&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;6. Ate a yummy &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Banzai&lt;/span&gt; burger at Red Robin &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;5. Read a chapter or two in my new swimming to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Antarctica&lt;/span&gt; book &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4. Played Skip Bo &lt;/strong&gt;(I usually am unbeatable, but lets not talk about how it went)&lt;strong&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3. Helped fix food for 300 youth &lt;/strong&gt;(the food was so yummy! I had some of the leftovers for lunch today)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2. Chaperoned a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;YM&lt;/span&gt;/&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;YW&lt;/span&gt; dance&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1. Got gas &lt;/strong&gt;(should have gotten it the day before. I barely, and I mean barely made it to the gas station. Phew-a little too close for comfort!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;8 Favorite Shows&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;You have to understand I haven't had t.v. in over 5 years. I sometimes check out past episodes of shows from the library and watch them. I was just realizing thatin the month of July I have watched less than 5 hours of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;TV&lt;/span&gt;/movies total.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;8. Medical Mysteries &lt;/strong&gt;(actually I only watched that once but if I had &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;TV&lt;/span&gt; I would watch it)&lt;strong&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;7. The Biggest Loser &lt;/strong&gt;(kind of a Tuesday night tradition with my friend &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Cedelia&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;6. Trading Spaces &lt;/strong&gt;type home decorating shows &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;5. Gilmore Girls &lt;/strong&gt;(yeah its over, but I liked it) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4. The Chopping Block&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3. Prison Break&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2. House&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1. 24&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;8 Favorite &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Restaurants&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;8. Macaroni Grill&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;7. Training Table &lt;/strong&gt;(cheese fries anyone?)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;6.5 &lt;/strong&gt;That one made me remember how much I liked eating at &lt;strong&gt;The Train&lt;/strong&gt; in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Heber&lt;/span&gt;. The food is pretty good but it really just brings back a lot of good memories. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;6. &lt;/strong&gt;Really my favorite places to eat are not &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;restaurants&lt;/span&gt;. They are moms house and Justina's houses. Yum. Nothing beats a good home cooked meal (especially when you don't have to prepare it! I've been very spoiled this last few weeks with the best food in the world with some of my favorite people to eat it with!)&lt;strong&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;5. &lt;/strong&gt;Any Mexican food &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;restaurant&lt;/span&gt; with good beans. That's what makes or breaks a Mexican food &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;restaurant&lt;/span&gt; is the beans.&lt;strong&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4. P.F. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Changs&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;(but not the one in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Tri&lt;/span&gt;-Cities. That one made me sick!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3. &lt;/strong&gt;There's this little spot in Pike's Market that has these really yummy halibut sandwiches-I love them!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2. Red Robin &lt;/strong&gt;(a family favorite)&lt;strong&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1. The Crab Pot &lt;/strong&gt;(My very very favorite)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;8 Thing I Look Forward to&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;8. Going crabbing&lt;/strong&gt; (actually mostly just eating it-yum!)&lt;strong&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;7. Losing weight &lt;/strong&gt;(&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;ahh&lt;/span&gt;-I've got to stop eating at all those favorite &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;restaurants&lt;/span&gt; of mine and stop constantly thinking about food. This is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;ridiculous&lt;/span&gt;!)&lt;strong&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;6. Finishing my quilt&lt;/strong&gt; (thanks Dawn for helping me get back going on it. I'm even planning on working on it with mom in the morning.)&lt;strong&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;5. Spending time with Mark &lt;/strong&gt;(Even though I just saw him yesterday. The plan is to see him tomorrow too :)).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4. Going to the Ocean again &lt;/strong&gt;(no plans for it currently, but I love going to the beach)&lt;strong&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3. Retiring &lt;/strong&gt;(well not really retiring, but becoming a momma and being able to stop working and stay at home with my kids. Yeah I know quite a few things have to take place for that one to happen :)).&lt;strong&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2. Hanging out with my nieces and nephews &lt;/strong&gt;(and the rest of the family. This is very much a weekly activity bu it is still one in which I always look forward to.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1. Going grocery shopping &lt;/strong&gt;(usually grocery shopping isn't something I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;particularly&lt;/span&gt; look forward to but, if you can believe it, July ends in just a few days and I haven't been grocery shopping all month!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;8 People I Tag&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;8. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;Erryn&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;(do you know how much I just love you? I miss you!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;7. Susi &lt;/strong&gt;(so fun talking to you yesterday. That should have went on my list of things I did yesterday)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;6. Jana &lt;/strong&gt;(did I hear correctly that you are coming back for a visit? Is it an extended visit?)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;5. Trina and Sally &lt;/strong&gt;(mom says you are in town right now. How long are you guys around?)&lt;strong&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4. Kristin &lt;/strong&gt;(I haven't checked your private blog lately, but the last time i did it hadn't been updated in quite awhile. Fix that would ya!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3. Crystal &lt;/strong&gt;(while the baby is sleeping of course)&lt;strong&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2. Justina &lt;/strong&gt;(I know, I know, not the kind of stuff you blog about. You have &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;plenty&lt;/span&gt; of more exciting things to blog about, but just in case you needed something else. . .)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1. Dawn &lt;/strong&gt;(or Kate. She'd probably be more likely to do it than you would :))&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for the tag Marci. It gave me something to do this evening!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/275359218300541096-7534120686069322845?l=thefroghunter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/feeds/7534120686069322845/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=275359218300541096&amp;postID=7534120686069322845' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/7534120686069322845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/7534120686069322845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/2009/07/my-lists-of-eights.html' title='My Lists of Eights'/><author><name>Charity</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16856375172193641099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/S1-_-R41v_I/AAAAAAAAAIY/-a7Sqn3c9SY/S220/0718092005-01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275359218300541096.post-2986958455869602667</id><published>2009-06-17T16:40:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-07T15:23:11.328-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Summer!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:180%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;new niece&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;cabin for &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;4th &lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;of&lt;/span&gt; july&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;da&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;wn&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;scott&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;kate&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;luke&lt;/span&gt; coming&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;(not soon enough and for not long enough)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;summer trainings: DL, LIT, Math&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;mark&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;sleeping in&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(until 7:15 at least!),&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;eating&lt;/span&gt; whatever I want and also trying to &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;lose weight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(do those 2 things go together?)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#00cccc;"&gt;biking, hiking, swimming&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;tennis lessons from &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;brAdeN&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;swimming lessons from &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;KaTe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;girls camp&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;summer is filling up fast. if you want on the calendar, you'd better let me know soon! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SkecVhQ4oyI/AAAAAAAAAGE/CMlQXaecaFg/s1600-h/Korea+142.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352418575673500450" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SkecVhQ4oyI/AAAAAAAAAGE/CMlQXaecaFg/s200/Korea+142.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352419071308204354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SkecyXpaCUI/AAAAAAAAAGM/WVlYMXOZwXk/s200/Korea+149.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SkedvBLCCnI/AAAAAAAAAGc/ABtGNPk5mtg/s1600-h/Korea+159.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352420113247242866" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SkedvBLCCnI/AAAAAAAAAGc/ABtGNPk5mtg/s200/Korea+159.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SkecVhQ4oyI/AAAAAAAAAGE/CMlQXaecaFg/s1600-h/Korea+142.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355847200235284642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SlPKpvFLaKI/AAAAAAAAAGk/KzHclyS2ugI/s200/bayview1" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/275359218300541096-2986958455869602667?l=thefroghunter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/feeds/2986958455869602667/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=275359218300541096&amp;postID=2986958455869602667' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/2986958455869602667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/2986958455869602667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/2009/06/wordle-summer.html' title='Summer!'/><author><name>Charity</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16856375172193641099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/S1-_-R41v_I/AAAAAAAAAIY/-a7Sqn3c9SY/S220/0718092005-01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SkecVhQ4oyI/AAAAAAAAAGE/CMlQXaecaFg/s72-c/Korea+142.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275359218300541096.post-7049100724457840535</id><published>2009-04-26T18:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-28T00:05:38.016-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Good thing I didn't just go back to bed</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SfUz9ztjwMI/AAAAAAAAAFs/-rKP70Jcjos/s1600-h/SimpleGreen.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329222871009181890" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 106px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 171px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SfUz9ztjwMI/AAAAAAAAAFs/-rKP70Jcjos/s200/SimpleGreen.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Woke up yesterday morning still &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;sick&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; (don't feel sorry for me about being sick-I was sick all day Friday and you didn't even know :)). When I went into the kitchen I was completely &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;disgusted&lt;/span&gt; at the &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;ant infestation&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; that had taken over in my kitchen-on my counter, in my sink, coming out of the walls and wood work-YUCK. Apparently they got the memo I wasn't feeling well and decided to invade my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;territory&lt;/span&gt;. Out came the simply green bottle (only thing I could think of at the time, but apparently is does okay-I only have one or two little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;stragglers&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;coming&lt;/span&gt; back today).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My house was a mess. I feel like I haven't been home in ages so I decided it was high time I did some laundry. Feeling very productive I went to start my second load. After loading the laundry &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SfUz96XuHYI/AAAAAAAAAF0/G8UaLzOnPlo/s1600-h/tide.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329222872796634498" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SfUz96XuHYI/AAAAAAAAAF0/G8UaLzOnPlo/s200/tide.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;into the machine I realized that I had forgotten to put &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;soap&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; in my last load (which was already dry and ready to be folded)-then I realized the loud thud I had heard earlier had actually been something falling out of the cupboard and spilling the cup full of soap all over my counter. I just looked at it and thought about just leaving it for a day when I was feeling better but decided just to clean it up. So I got out a towel and started &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;wiping&lt;/span&gt; up the soap. I picked up the big container of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;laundry&lt;/span&gt; detergent to wipe under it. Well apparently when they say "open to vent" I had actually completely unscrewed the lid and so &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;soap&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; poured all down my washer, all down my pants and all over the floor-a big mess became so much bigger!! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Ahh&lt;/span&gt;. I just wanted to crawl back in bed. I had had it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Lucy. . .she was on the door step howling away. She usually is at the sliding glass window watching to see what I'm doing but not that morning. She was on the door step crying away (I thought it was because I hadn't given her any attention for the past couple of days but no). As I got in my car and was driving into town I realized that her favorite cat had committed &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;cat &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;suicide&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;-(it really wasn't my cat it was Lucy's cat which is why she is so sad and I think-"see this is why I don't like animals, just when you almost start liking them they go and get themselves killed!") &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(Sorry Crystal I know you'll be disappointed but I spared you the picture of fluffy on the highway).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SfUz-GXZEmI/AAAAAAAAAF8/agQGcKY50mE/s1600-h/sudafed"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329222876016480866" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 123px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 144px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SfUz-GXZEmI/AAAAAAAAAF8/agQGcKY50mE/s200/sudafed" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Not much I can do about the cat now, so I continued on my way. I was a &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;walking medicine &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;cabinet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. I had cough drops and vitamin C drops in one pocket, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;sudafed&lt;/span&gt; in another pocket and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;kleenx&lt;/span&gt; in another pocket (it later became clean &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;kleenx&lt;/span&gt; in one pocket and dirty ones in another-what is that too much information? :) That is life.) These events are bad enough when you are feeling good but when you are not-wow-not &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;pleasant&lt;/span&gt;! I was off to-as much as I hate to admit it, I must-off to a Single Adult Conference (aka 30 to dead event). &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;ICK&lt;/span&gt;!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways not to bore you with too many details of the event the end is what you will want to know. Now don't get too excited or anything but a guy I kind of was interested that day actually asked for my number that night. That's all the info you get. Don't ask me any questions or that will be the last you hear about things like that!! &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;And Dawn, notice I didn't name him yet so as of yet he is not important to me. (She only starts asking questions when I start using their names because then I guess she thinks, as history has shown, that it is only when I call them by name that I am interested in that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;particular&lt;/span&gt; boy).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So to sum it all up: ants and laundry soap and dead cat and singles event can equal a not so bad day afterall. Who would have thought that 4 negatives would make a positive?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/275359218300541096-7049100724457840535?l=thefroghunter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/feeds/7049100724457840535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=275359218300541096&amp;postID=7049100724457840535' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/7049100724457840535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/7049100724457840535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/2009/04/good-thing-i-didnt-just-go-back-to-bed.html' title='Good thing I didn&apos;t just go back to bed'/><author><name>Charity</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16856375172193641099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/S1-_-R41v_I/AAAAAAAAAIY/-a7Sqn3c9SY/S220/0718092005-01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SfUz9ztjwMI/AAAAAAAAAFs/-rKP70Jcjos/s72-c/SimpleGreen.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275359218300541096.post-8467628156759457566</id><published>2009-04-01T20:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T21:33:42.612-07:00</updated><title type='text'>He's a good sport</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="center"&gt;Growing up Dad always got asked how he did it. As a father of 4 daughters I thought he was the luckiest man alive, but most people would just look at him, shake their heads and &lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;smile &lt;/span&gt;with sympathy. I still think he is pretty darn lucky, but I &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;now &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;chuckle&lt;/span&gt; to myself and wonder how he survived.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love April Fool's day, but my favorite person to play tricks on is still dad (actually he is the only one who I play tricks on). This year I happened to be home on this most opportune day. My niece and nephew were also there, so I took it upon myself to do my &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;auntly duties&lt;/span&gt; and teach them how to play tricks on grandpa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;1. Braden helped rubberband the spray nozzle in the sink and then proceeded to ask grandpa for a drink of water. "Not from the refridgerator Grandpa, but from the sink". Well, you know what happened, when he turned on the sink the sprayer &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;sprayed water&lt;/span&gt; all over him. Braden laughed and laughed (we all did actually-I think Dad hadn't realized it was April Fool's day . . . &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;yet&lt;/span&gt;!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. We were having lasgna for dinner and Kendra and Grandma had made sugar cookies earlier in the day, so we decided to make some cookies that looked like breadsticks for dinner. (Dad actually really liked this trick and said we could do it every year!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Kendra helped put honey all over the backs of Dad's silverware so when he picked them up for dinner he got all sticky. (Don't worry this one kept back firing on Kendra and I and we got pleanty sticky because we kept forgetting we had done it and had to wash our hands several times :))&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. We put sticky tack under his glass and then filled it up with milk so he wouldn't see it. He had a very hard time getting his glass off the table! We were careful to only fill his glass half full-we didn't want a milk shower!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. We made salt water ice cubes and then offered him a glass of ice water-a pretty typical trick that even though he knew it was a trick he played along nicely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Dad said this was the worst one, but &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;we didn't do anything&lt;/span&gt; for it-really. I was dishing up the lasgna and asked which piece did Justina wanted, indicating that there was definately some that we didn't want for whatever reason. Then after she got her piece I dished up dad's piece "this is the right one, right Justina?" she agreed and dad wanted to know what was wrong with it. "Nothing" we responded, &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;which was true&lt;/span&gt;. He proceeded to eat it and then when he went back for seconds we made a big deal about the fact that he had ate the whole thing-"you didn't notice anything different dad?" "you just ate it like normal?" "are you sure?" "oh, this is not good". . . "oh well too late now" and I proceeded to dish him up another piece. "You guys" he said, "what did you do to it? Am I going to get sick?" We would have loved to play along with it, but noticed he was really turning green and had to tell him that truely &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;we didn't do anything &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;and that nothing was wrong with his lasgna! Oh the power of suggestion. . .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;7.  This one is a late entry.  I forgot all about this one until I went home about a week later, but Kendra and I had &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;blown out an egg&lt;/span&gt; and then decided not to use it for a trick so not knowing what else to do with it we put it back in the egg carton.  Mom actually got tricked by this one thinking there were still 2 eggs left and when she went to make pancakes realized there was only one (opps sorry mom) so had to borrow one from our neighbor-thanks Sister Bird!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;We had so much fun at his expense. Don't even tell me you feel sorry for him. I think there might have been a few more, but I can tell you are already feeling sorry for him. Let me tell you he holds his own and I'm sure we have a few coming our way, but in the meantime, thanks for putting up with us! I think Kendra and Braden are hooked on playing jokes on Grandpa too! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/275359218300541096-8467628156759457566?l=thefroghunter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/feeds/8467628156759457566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=275359218300541096&amp;postID=8467628156759457566' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/8467628156759457566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/8467628156759457566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/2009/04/hes-good-sport.html' title='He&apos;s a good sport'/><author><name>Charity</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16856375172193641099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/S1-_-R41v_I/AAAAAAAAAIY/-a7Sqn3c9SY/S220/0718092005-01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275359218300541096.post-4459205506652647491</id><published>2009-03-22T18:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-22T21:01:35.034-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='single life'/><title type='text'>Roommate Wanted!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Lately I've had several people ask me if I had a roommate or if I wanted one. When I first moved here people would ask me that question all the time but I haven't been asked that for a long time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last time I had an interview with my bishop he asked me if I was going any of the singles activities. "You mean the &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;30 to dead activities&lt;/span&gt;" I asked trying to determine if he meant the young singles or the single singles. To which he replied "well I've never thought about it like that before". Okay so think about it. A person who is in their 30's can go. Their divorced, widowed, single mother or father in their 50's-60's can also go, and their grandparent in their 70's, 80's, 90's or 100's can also go! What kind of social life experience is that.!? You could have 3-4 generations at the same mingling activity-&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;yikes&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I know &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;you never know who might be there&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;. Well, I don't go often, but I do go when tricked or forced and let me tell you about one such experience a few months back (that time I went for the food :)). &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;They played this game I'm sure most of you are familiar with. It's called fruit basket upset or something like that. What happens is there is circle of chairs and one person stands in the middle. The person in the middle is trying to steal a chair so they reveal some fact about themselves. If you have that in common with them then you must switch chairs with someone else in the group-yeah you know the game&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me tell you some of the statements:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;"I have twins" (nope) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;"I am a twin" (my brother-in-law is)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;"I have sons and daughters" (someday I hope) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;"I have grandkids" (wow, don't kids come first)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;"I recently had heart surgery" (ohhh)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;"I've had a hip/knee replacement" (knee surgery, does that count)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;"I've been married" (marriawge)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;"I'm a widow" (oh I'm sorry)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;"I on a state retirement plan" (apparently I am, but didn't move because I don't think about my retirement plan very often)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;"I served in the Korean War" (I think mom's dad did, didn't he.!?)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;"I've been hospitalized at least overnight" (I know where the hospital is)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;"I have step children" (no thanks)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;"I've been a member of the church for less than 10 years" (I'm a lifer)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;. . . those are just the beginning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The saddest thing was is that for most of those statements I was one of the only 2 or 3 still sitting down! I was definately the &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;youngest&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;person there and there were only 5 under 45; of which 2 were divorced with several teenage children. There were several with canes, wheelchairs and walkers (don't laugh, &lt;strong&gt;I am not making this up&lt;/strong&gt;). In fact after playing this game for 20 minutes or so most were so winded, holding their chests winded, that it was decided that before anyone had another heart attack we should stop the game! (It was probably a good thing we stopped when we did-the time or two that I got to move I almost pushed an old lady out of the way trying to get to a chair because, that's how I've always played the game, but then I remembered-these are old people, be nice Charity!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someday if you're lucky I just may tell you about some of my blind dates, almost blind dates, singles dances or other such lovely singles social. &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Sometimes you just have to laugh at the strange situations life brings your way&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So back to the question. No I don't have a roommate and yes I'd like one but I'm kind of particuliar. I have had a lot of female roommates and am looking forward to having a male roommate, lets see with a male roommate you go someplace, sign some papers, make it official and then you don't refer to him as a roommate, he becomes oh what's that word again-oh yeah, a husband. I am looking for one of those kind of roommates-that way I wouldn't have the wonderful opportunity of spending my weekend evenings &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;avoiding being flirted with by someone's great-grandpa&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/275359218300541096-4459205506652647491?l=thefroghunter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/feeds/4459205506652647491/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=275359218300541096&amp;postID=4459205506652647491' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/4459205506652647491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/4459205506652647491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/2009/03/roommate-wanted.html' title='Roommate Wanted!!'/><author><name>Charity</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16856375172193641099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/S1-_-R41v_I/AAAAAAAAAIY/-a7Sqn3c9SY/S220/0718092005-01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275359218300541096.post-406265444224260064</id><published>2009-03-08T14:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-22T21:17:25.928-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school story'/><title type='text'>Achoo!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SbQ3ugEqs-I/AAAAAAAAAFE/FMT3Z_DcoPU/s1600-h/sneeze.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310931132599677922" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 98px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 117px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SbQ3ugEqs-I/AAAAAAAAAFE/FMT3Z_DcoPU/s200/sneeze.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;When people sneeze typical responses from others include: "God bless you", "bless you" or "gesundheit". In Brazil we would say "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;salude&lt;/span&gt;" which is wishing someone good health. Dad has never liked it when people say "bless you" when someone sneezes-who are we to bestow a blessing on some random person and why should someone be blessed for sneezing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe Dad would be proud that in my class we have created our own lingo when someone sneezes. It started out with {&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#006600;"&gt;sneeze&lt;/span&gt;} "get a k&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;leenx&lt;/span&gt;, blow your nose, and put some germ-x on your hands". That is a lot to say when someone sneezes but with snot running down their nose, onto their hands or the table, and them just sitting there dumbfounded, I figured I had to be pretty specific!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you realize how many times a day a sick student sneezes? Multiply that by 8 sick kids at the same time and all you would have time for is telling them to get a "k&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;leenx&lt;/span&gt;, blow their nose. . ." I hadn't noticed that this statement had been condensed until I sneezed in class the other day. I sneezed and without looking up from his work, our new student, not knowing or having ever heard differently, affectionately yelled out "&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Germ-X&lt;/span&gt;".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so it is. Forget the bless you, Gesundheit, or &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;salude&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; Get to the point-you have germs on your hands that I don't want on mine, use some germ-x and take care of it would you.!?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/275359218300541096-406265444224260064?l=thefroghunter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/feeds/406265444224260064/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=275359218300541096&amp;postID=406265444224260064' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/406265444224260064'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/406265444224260064'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/2009/03/achoo.html' title='Achoo!'/><author><name>Charity</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16856375172193641099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/S1-_-R41v_I/AAAAAAAAAIY/-a7Sqn3c9SY/S220/0718092005-01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SbQ3ugEqs-I/AAAAAAAAAFE/FMT3Z_DcoPU/s72-c/sneeze.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275359218300541096.post-6108221838483200789</id><published>2009-02-21T22:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-22T21:17:54.997-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='church'/><title type='text'>Mirror Mirror on the Wall</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SaDs_ptA-kI/AAAAAAAAAEs/VMjZJiUt8F8/s1600-h/Mickey+Mouse.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305500939313019458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 210px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SaDs_ptA-kI/AAAAAAAAAEs/VMjZJiUt8F8/s400/Mickey+Mouse.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I know, not my typical thing to post. This week was our Stake's Beehive Conference. It turned out fabulous, but that is not what I wanted to talk about. I went to one of the workshops and in it the presenter showed this picture. Sure I like Disney and I'm sure I liked Mickey Mouse as a kid, but I thought those days were long over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look at the picture. Mickey Mouse is looking in the mirror and not drawing himself. What he sees and what he is drawing is his creator. When you look in the mirror, do you see your creator?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/275359218300541096-6108221838483200789?l=thefroghunter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/feeds/6108221838483200789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=275359218300541096&amp;postID=6108221838483200789' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/6108221838483200789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/6108221838483200789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/2009/02/mirror-mirror-on-wall.html' title='Mirror Mirror on the Wall'/><author><name>Charity</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16856375172193641099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/S1-_-R41v_I/AAAAAAAAAIY/-a7Sqn3c9SY/S220/0718092005-01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SaDs_ptA-kI/AAAAAAAAAEs/VMjZJiUt8F8/s72-c/Mickey+Mouse.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275359218300541096.post-7854801121730522762</id><published>2009-02-12T20:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-22T21:18:19.628-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='project'/><title type='text'>Diaper Cake</title><content type='html'>I've heard of them being done before, I think I might have even seen one so I attempted to make one tonight. I actually am quite impressed with how it turned out-156 diapers later. . .ta-da!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SZT8pUpLfhI/AAAAAAAAAEA/zkavpJSaz50/s1600-h/diaper+cake.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302140448168181266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SZT8pUpLfhI/AAAAAAAAAEA/zkavpJSaz50/s400/diaper+cake.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/275359218300541096-7854801121730522762?l=thefroghunter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/feeds/7854801121730522762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=275359218300541096&amp;postID=7854801121730522762' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/7854801121730522762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/7854801121730522762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/2009/02/diaper-cake.html' title='Diaper Cake'/><author><name>Charity</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16856375172193641099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/S1-_-R41v_I/AAAAAAAAAIY/-a7Sqn3c9SY/S220/0718092005-01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SZT8pUpLfhI/AAAAAAAAAEA/zkavpJSaz50/s72-c/diaper+cake.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275359218300541096.post-2210203209693684742</id><published>2009-02-05T16:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-22T21:18:49.744-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='all about me'/><title type='text'>25 Random Facts</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0);font-size:85%;" &gt;Alright, here it goes. . .25 random facts about me-probably some you already knew and some you never wanted to know! It is the same as the one posted on Facebook but for those of you who haven't read it-read on!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" face="arial"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" face="arial"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" face="arial"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" face="arial"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" face="arial"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" face="arial"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" face="arial"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" face="arial"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" face="arial"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" face="arial"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" face="arial"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" face="arial"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" face="arial"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" face="arial"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" face="arial"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" face="arial"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" face="arial"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" face="arial"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" face="arial"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" face="arial"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" face="arial"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" face="arial"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="FONT-FAMILY: arial"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I think I have cute feet-granted I think they look like Flintstones feet a little short and boxy, but they're cute. Last summer a girl gave me a compliment on my feet saying "you have the cutest toes! They look like little Vienna sausages!" Needless to say I have not been able to look at my feet quite the same ever since. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="FONT-FAMILY: arial"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Family trumps everything. It's just a fact. It doesn't matter how cool the activity-if my family is all getting together-that's where I plan on being. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="FONT-FAMILY: arial"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. I don't really like change. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="FONT-FAMILY: arial"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. I'm looking for a training partner for the Provo Canyon 1/2 marathon in the beginning of August. It's been a couple of years since I've done one and I think I'm ready to do it again. This year I'm choosing one that is mostly downhill instead of mostly uphill. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="FONT-FAMILY: arial"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. I didn't watch the super bowl and don't even know who won-actually to be honest I can't even tell you who played.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="FONT-FAMILY: arial"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. One of my favorite past times is making small talk with random strangers in the grocery store, on the airplane, or at the bank. It makes the world seem smaller and I end up thinking although I will probably never see that person again, if I did-I know we'd be friends. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="FONT-FAMILY: arial"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. I love listening to talk radio. I listen to Glenn Beck in the morning, Dr. Laura or Dave Ramsey on the way home from school and Dr. Dean O'Dell on Saturday. I think it's great when Glenn Beck gets on his soap box about food storage or getting out of debt or having one night a week reserved for the family. When I listen to Dr. Laura I think-boy some people are just not smart-I'm glad I'm not them. I can't listen to Dave Ramsey on Fridays because I cry for some reason. Truly-it is embarrassing. And Dr. Dean-I love anything to do with health and medical problems-I should have been a doctor. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="FONT-FAMILY: arial"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Someday I'm going to write a book. Watch for it coming to a bookstore near you. It will be in the non-fiction section. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="FONT-FAMILY: arial"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. I have been to 2 estate auctions this past year and keep watching for more. I have bought only one or two things at each auction but they are a few of my favorite decorations in my house. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="FONT-FAMILY: arial"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I will be in the Guinness Book of World Records. Yes I there is a record in there I can beat but no I am not going to tell you what it is. My nieces and nephews think its cool and want to be just like me but you would probably be content to just read about it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="FONT-FAMILY: arial"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. I prefer to eat leftovers or dinner foods for breakfast. I don't see what's wrong with it. People eat breakfast foods for dinner all the time. Some of my favorite things to eat in the morning are left over spaghetti, cold pizza, grilled cheese sandwich, chicken enchiladas, tacos, or hummus.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="FONT-FAMILY: arial"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. For 7 years I got my hair cut for free. Now once a year I pay $350 for a hair cut. (Actually the haircut itself is still free but my stylist has moved to New Mexico so I have to fly to see her. By the way sis-I miss you guys and I do need my hair cut. What you doing over spring break? :))&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="FONT-FAMILY: arial"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. I've always wanted to go to Africa.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="FONT-FAMILY: arial"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. I have the ugliest painting hanging in my house. It has this red dirt road going off into a pinkish blue sunset. It is not at all my style and did I mention-its kind of ugly, but it is my first oil painting and it is displayed with pride! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="FONT-FAMILY: arial"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. I have a horrible time buying sunglasses because I have cricked eyebrows. I always wanted to wear real glasses but maybe it is best I don't. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="FONT-FAMILY: arial"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. I feel like a celebrity everytime I go to Walmart (or anywhere else in Othello). That's one thing I like about living in a small town-anywhere you go you always see people you know. I actually expect to see people I know when I go other places and sometimes am dissapointed when I don't. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="FONT-FAMILY: arial"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. I can't tell a joke to save my soul-I always mess up the punch line by saying it too early, too late, or forgetting it altogether. But even if I can't tell a joke I sometimes think I am funny and really like people who think I am funny too. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="FONT-FAMILY: arial"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. I am always in the middle of reading at least 5 books at any given time and always looking for more books to read. What's on your night stand? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="FONT-FAMILY: arial"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. Growing up we had to go to museums all the time and I started to not like them. I mean, a person can only look at old cars, motors and airplanes so long before they all look the same Dad. Well as much as I hate to admit it, one of my favorite places in NYC is Ellis Island. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="FONT-FAMILY: arial"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. I love frogs. I also really like looking at and occasionally holding cool bugs. I don't mind even mind snakes as long as I know where they are, but I do not care for spiders. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="FONT-FAMILY: arial"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. I am not a collection type person, but I must admit, I have a pretty unique rock collection. You'll have to stop by one of these days and check it out. I do recommend that if you start collecting rocks that you have a special pocket just for them because rocks and cell phones don't mix. And no, I still don't have a new cell phone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="FONT-FAMILY: arial"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. I have a favorite pair of socks, don't you? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="FONT-FAMILY: arial"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. I always lost in the game of paper, rock, scissors. Always. Apparently I always do the same thing first. (I don't even know what I throw first-ask Justina-she knows). But lately I have been reading a book that teaches techniques and tricks to winning in the game. This is serious business. There are even rock, paper, scissor games that the winner takes home $50,000. I guess they even practice for several hours a day if you can believe that. I am proud to say that I have actually won several games in the last few months-amazingly enough. The only person who I still am unable to beat is my nephew, but then he uses more than just paper, rock, scissors and I never know what to expect from him. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:webdings;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="FONT-FAMILY: arial"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;24. I enjoy writing checks instead of using cash or a plastic card sometimes. You should see the looks the cashiers give you-or better yet, the people behind you in line. It is especially fun at a store that prides themselves with being all that. It makes me smile. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="FONT-FAMILY: arial"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="FONT-FAMILY: arial"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="FONT-FAMILY: arial"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="FONT-FAMILY: arial"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="FONT-FAMILY: arial"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;25. I like the smell of skunk-it reminds me of home. Well, not home-home exactly, but it seemed like the on the corner of G road and Wahluke road it always smelled like skunk. First I got used to it and then I realized when I moved away that I actually missed it. Strangely enough, I consider it one of those comfort smells.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:webdings;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/275359218300541096-2210203209693684742?l=thefroghunter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/feeds/2210203209693684742/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=275359218300541096&amp;postID=2210203209693684742' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/2210203209693684742'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/2210203209693684742'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/2009/02/25-random-facts.html' title='25 Random Facts'/><author><name>Charity</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16856375172193641099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/S1-_-R41v_I/AAAAAAAAAIY/-a7Sqn3c9SY/S220/0718092005-01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275359218300541096.post-2993335942545451294</id><published>2009-01-10T12:03:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-08T15:18:18.442-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Arranged marriages?</title><content type='html'>The other day we were orientating ourselves to the churches &lt;a href="http://www.new.familysearch.org/"&gt;new Family Search website&lt;/a&gt;, which if you haven't checked it out you should. It is a much easier way to do &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;genealogy&lt;/span&gt;. I can't wait to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;input&lt;/span&gt; some more info on it. You can go on and find your name and then there is this button that you can push beside your name. It says "add or find a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;spouse&lt;/span&gt;". I haven't heard about the church's new program sponsering arranged marriages and am kind of nervous and excited about the idea. I am anxious to click on the button, but before I do I was just wondering if you know anyone who has done it and how it has turned out for them :) I'm not sure I want to be the guiena pig for this one-you know forever is a loooooooooong time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/275359218300541096-2993335942545451294?l=thefroghunter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/feeds/2993335942545451294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=275359218300541096&amp;postID=2993335942545451294' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/2993335942545451294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/2993335942545451294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/2009/01/arranged-marriages.html' title='Arranged marriages?'/><author><name>Charity</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16856375172193641099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/S1-_-R41v_I/AAAAAAAAAIY/-a7Sqn3c9SY/S220/0718092005-01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275359218300541096.post-3492135272595014287</id><published>2009-01-01T20:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T18:39:50.674-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't really like Vegas, but. . .</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SYuhXGZ8XrI/AAAAAAAAAD4/0Dq6FsgRAro/s1600-h/CIMG0093.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SYuhXGZ8XrI/AAAAAAAAAD4/0Dq6FsgRAro/s200/CIMG0093.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299506804760010418" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;we had a ton of fun while there!  Here we are at the Hoover Dam-I am so scared I am crouched down and bracing myself with my legs and feet.  Watch out below!!!!&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SYugOOAkO_I/AAAAAAAAADg/suBG_iCcORg/s1600-h/CIMG0083.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SYugOOAkO_I/AAAAAAAAADg/suBG_iCcORg/s200/CIMG0083.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299505552670604274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;If you ever get a chance to see the Blue Man Group, go.  It was the most random show I've seen, but we laughed and you never knew what to expect. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SYugOu5FOZI/AAAAAAAAADo/Ju7LZHbcfJY/s1600-h/CIMG0089.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SYugOu5FOZI/AAAAAAAAADo/Ju7LZHbcfJY/s200/CIMG0089.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299505561497581970" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Of all the buildings in Vegas the most beautiful and peaceful was the temple.  It was a nice break from the confusion of the world that you sense and feel in Vegas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SYugOlPw6VI/AAAAAAAAADw/BAe6U-dZ3vs/s1600-h/CIMG0092.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SYugOlPw6VI/AAAAAAAAADw/BAe6U-dZ3vs/s200/CIMG0092.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299505558908365138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SV2lLwLrfLI/AAAAAAAAAC4/wzlruTPS7fI/s1600-h/P1000885.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286563158933863602" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 320px; height: 240px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SV2lLwLrfLI/AAAAAAAAAC4/wzlruTPS7fI/s320/P1000885.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/275359218300541096-3492135272595014287?l=thefroghunter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/feeds/3492135272595014287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=275359218300541096&amp;postID=3492135272595014287' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/3492135272595014287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/3492135272595014287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/2009/01/if-theres-crack.html' title='I don&apos;t really like Vegas, but. . .'/><author><name>Charity</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16856375172193641099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/S1-_-R41v_I/AAAAAAAAAIY/-a7Sqn3c9SY/S220/0718092005-01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SYuhXGZ8XrI/AAAAAAAAAD4/0Dq6FsgRAro/s72-c/CIMG0093.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275359218300541096.post-765840800409461636</id><published>2008-12-06T21:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-06T21:59:46.564-08:00</updated><title type='text'>All I want for Christmas. . .lessons learned from an 8 year old</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/STtl6ODGPWI/AAAAAAAAACo/Sthhyh0sBHY/s1600-h/dear+santa.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276923439272574306" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 135px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 108px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/STtl6ODGPWI/AAAAAAAAACo/Sthhyh0sBHY/s320/dear+santa.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;For the past several years my friends niece has been making a list for Santa. Always included on this list, besides the typical dolls and toys a child would enjoy, was a dog. And every year she got those dolls and toys, but she never got what she really wanted, which was the dog. Last year she got smarter. Her new list included only the following "A DOG". Her mother did not want to buy her a dog and tried to think of the million reasons why they couldn't have one, but this little girl did not budge. She was not interested in other toys or dolls no matter what bells, bows and whistles accompied them, her mind was set-it was a dog or nothing. Oh, and do you know what she got for Christmas last year? You guessed it, a dog!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am blessed to have a good job that allows me to be able to buy the things I need and many of the things I want. I don't particularily like receiving gifts (ask my family, they can vouch for that) so what I'm putting on my list this year in actuality wouldn't cost you a dime. Last year one gift came close what I really want-I got a boyfriend for Christmas (well actually it was the Hallmark DVD entitled that).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, this year, all I want for Christmas is. . . Mr. Just Right for Me! &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;oh yeah and a blowdryer :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/275359218300541096-765840800409461636?l=thefroghunter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/feeds/765840800409461636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=275359218300541096&amp;postID=765840800409461636' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/765840800409461636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/765840800409461636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/2008/12/all-i-want-for-christmas-lessons.html' title='All I want for Christmas. . .lessons learned from an 8 year old'/><author><name>Charity</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16856375172193641099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/S1-_-R41v_I/AAAAAAAAAIY/-a7Sqn3c9SY/S220/0718092005-01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/STtl6ODGPWI/AAAAAAAAACo/Sthhyh0sBHY/s72-c/dear+santa.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275359218300541096.post-2457952528575217446</id><published>2008-11-21T11:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-21T12:35:58.730-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Shoes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SSca-Q0uNCI/AAAAAAAAACg/wn7l2KunWOs/s1600-h/CIMG0061.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271211545830765602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 66px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SSca-Q0uNCI/AAAAAAAAACg/wn7l2KunWOs/s200/CIMG0061.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Its a new post, but an old experience but I haven't told it yet and it makes me smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This happened about 4 days into the new school year. In order for you to truely appreciate this experience you need to know that in the afternoon I have two different sets of students that I only see every other day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I received this comment from a student after he had only seen me twice. We were sitting in class I was in the middle of some amazing math lesson (I'm sure) and a little boy shouts out you "why do you always wear the same shoes. You wear those shoes yesterday." I was quite taken back. It takes quite a bit to catch me off guard in class but this did. My first thought was to argue back "no I don't". Then I just had to laugh. For starters he had only seen me twice (and although I didn't wear that same pair of shoes the day before, both days he had been in my class I had in fact worn the same pair of shoes. Didn't realize that was not acceptable :)). Then I also remembered seeing his mom last year. She was wearing this amazing black and white dress with these bright red heels and I remember thinking she looked great, but that I would never wear that to work. Then I saw her again in the afternoon-she was still wearing the same dress but this time she was wearing a pair of lime green heels. :) I told his mom what he had said and she was so embarassed that she actually talked to him about it when they got home. She told me that her son would not be commenting on my shoes or any other piece of clothing anymore. I was a little disapointed, I had thought his comment was kind of funny. Well a few days later, when I was brave enough to wear the shoes again, he again commented on me wearing the same shoes (don't tell his mom). I then told him that it was okay and that I would wear them quite often because I only had about 3 pairs of shoes that I wear to school, to which he replied "well can't you at least wear them in a pattern?" What can I say-they sure took the patterning lesson to heart!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A side note: A few days later this child's mom came to me and said "you know I think we do put a lot of focus on clothing at our home and I never realized it before. My son always picks out his dads tie for work and then this morning before we left for school we were all saying prayer when my son opened his eyes and said-"dad, that is a cool belt". I immediately opened my eyes and said, son we do not comment on clothing when we are in the middle of prayer." Then she said "looks like we have some work to do". :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/275359218300541096-2457952528575217446?l=thefroghunter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/feeds/2457952528575217446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=275359218300541096&amp;postID=2457952528575217446' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/2457952528575217446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/2457952528575217446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/2008/11/shoes.html' title='Shoes'/><author><name>Charity</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16856375172193641099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/S1-_-R41v_I/AAAAAAAAAIY/-a7Sqn3c9SY/S220/0718092005-01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SSca-Q0uNCI/AAAAAAAAACg/wn7l2KunWOs/s72-c/CIMG0061.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275359218300541096.post-4335043245548170378</id><published>2008-11-21T11:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-21T11:45:05.187-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Best Carmel Syrup Recipe</title><content type='html'>Okay Dawn, here it is:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 c. sugar&lt;br /&gt;1 c. buttermilk&lt;br /&gt;1 c. butter&lt;br /&gt;2 T. corn syrup&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boil 5 minutes then add:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 t. baking soda&lt;br /&gt;2 t. vanilla&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really like it over french toast.  The cinnamon and the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;carmel&lt;/span&gt; taste amazing together.  Actually the syrup is good enough to drink by itself, but I probably wouldn't recommend it!  I think we should have it for breakfast tomorrow.  Yumm!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/275359218300541096-4335043245548170378?l=thefroghunter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/feeds/4335043245548170378/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=275359218300541096&amp;postID=4335043245548170378' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/4335043245548170378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/4335043245548170378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/2008/11/best-carmel-syrup-recipe.html' title='The Best Carmel Syrup Recipe'/><author><name>Charity</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16856375172193641099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/S1-_-R41v_I/AAAAAAAAAIY/-a7Sqn3c9SY/S220/0718092005-01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275359218300541096.post-620855282606754271</id><published>2008-11-11T10:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-21T11:05:26.012-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Should've been a trucker</title><content type='html'>Do you remember in High School when you took those career tests that matched up all your personality traits, interests, and social quirks and then told you a few things that you would be good at. Well I think one of mine was a truck driver, which at the time I was deeply insulted at even the suggestion, but now I think I might have been really good at it and let me tell you why (I feel like I'm applying for a job-let me know if I get it :)) For some reason I absolutely love driving with my lights on bright. It feels like I own the road. The other day I set a new record for longest distance traveled with brights on-meaning safely doing so with no other cars on the road. I was able to travel 6.3 miles beating my old record of 5.1. If you don't keep track of how far you can go with your brights on you may think this is not a big feat, but trust me it has taken me a good six months to set that record! The other day, I'm actually not sure I should confess this-but here it goes, I actually did a double take as a semi passed by me and found myself saying out loud, "wow, that is one good looking semi". Please tell me you've done that too, because it sounds outrageous-I knew I should have kept it to myself. Well, I'm off to drive somewhere-I'm in the mood to listen to talk radio (which is another reason I think I should be a trucker-I love talk radio.  Sometimes I have to wait in my car for a few minutes listening to the end of come commentary :)). I didn't have anywhere to go last weekend and went stir crazy so today I'm driving somewhere, anywhere and in the rain-that is also one of my favorite times to travel.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/275359218300541096-620855282606754271?l=thefroghunter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/feeds/620855282606754271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=275359218300541096&amp;postID=620855282606754271' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/620855282606754271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/620855282606754271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/2008/11/shouldve-been-trucker.html' title='Should&apos;ve been a trucker'/><author><name>Charity</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16856375172193641099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/S1-_-R41v_I/AAAAAAAAAIY/-a7Sqn3c9SY/S220/0718092005-01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275359218300541096.post-7232730161232123247</id><published>2008-11-01T21:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-01T21:12:39.350-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Found-lost dog</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SQ0mRsgYzGI/AAAAAAAAABM/oFd_QkAGDK0/s1600-h/CIMG0055.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263905624912612450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SQ0mRsgYzGI/AAAAAAAAABM/oFd_QkAGDK0/s400/CIMG0055.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here she is-my new dog.  Beware-at first glance she appears to be as cute as can be, but let me tell you when she opens her mouth it sounds like someone is holding onto the sides of a balloon and letting the air screetching out.  Dad found her this week wondering in the pasture, with the cows and the llama, miles away from the nearest house and away from the highway.  She is not a young pup either.  She has a bit of gray hair and shows signs of having been trained.  She (I keep refering to her without a name because she doesn't have one-any suggestions?) can sit, gets down off my pants when I tell her too, doesn't come in the house if I remember to tell her to stay out, stops barking when I tell her to stop (funny how she is not just naturally good, she has to be told to be told what bad habbits to stop).  She also walks right beside and behind me when I go to get the mail (that is my favorite thing because I hate a dog that is always running into me and between my feet).  I might actually eventually maybe even like her.  I'll keep you posted.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/275359218300541096-7232730161232123247?l=thefroghunter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/feeds/7232730161232123247/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=275359218300541096&amp;postID=7232730161232123247' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/7232730161232123247'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/7232730161232123247'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/2008/11/blog-post.html' title='Found-lost dog'/><author><name>Charity</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16856375172193641099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/S1-_-R41v_I/AAAAAAAAAIY/-a7Sqn3c9SY/S220/0718092005-01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SQ0mRsgYzGI/AAAAAAAAABM/oFd_QkAGDK0/s72-c/CIMG0055.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275359218300541096.post-1139736357669815994</id><published>2008-10-24T16:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-01T18:28:57.217-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't trust the commercials</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't have tv but started watching biggest loser with a friend a couple of seasons ago and it is still a Tuesday night tradition. If you watch it I warn you-don't trust the embedded commercials. They always talk about how great the new extra gum is and how great gum is when you are trying to lose weight. . . so I was in the checkout line the other day and thought I woul&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SQ0CHc9fgKI/AAAAAAAAABE/VBFuekAmj-M/s1600-h/gum.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263865866522427554" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 100px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 87px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SQ0CHc9fgKI/AAAAAAAAABE/VBFuekAmj-M/s400/gum.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;d give Extra Berry Pearadise a try. First impression a little harder than normal extra gum, but whatever. Then I made the near fatal mistake of leaving the package in my car. Oh my goodness-when I got back in my car the smell was so atrocious I was gagging. For a joke I decided to put the pack of gum in a co-workers car to see if it had the same effect on her-and sadly it did! To make matters worst she went to pick up her pregnant sister to take her somewhere and she almost threw up for real! So of course, being me, I told the company their gum stinks-literally. We will see what they say. If nothing else at least the poor college student that works at Extra's customer service had a good laugh and chances are they went right home and bought a pack of gum to put in their roommates car! :) I know you are almost curious enough to try it huh-go ahead and try, but I warn you I took the gum out f my car over a week ago, and the smell is still lingering!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/275359218300541096-1139736357669815994?l=thefroghunter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/feeds/1139736357669815994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=275359218300541096&amp;postID=1139736357669815994' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/1139736357669815994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/1139736357669815994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/2008/10/dont-trust-commercials.html' title='Don&apos;t trust the commercials'/><author><name>Charity</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16856375172193641099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/S1-_-R41v_I/AAAAAAAAAIY/-a7Sqn3c9SY/S220/0718092005-01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SQ0CHc9fgKI/AAAAAAAAABE/VBFuekAmj-M/s72-c/gum.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275359218300541096.post-1528482694699369871</id><published>2008-10-21T16:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T10:53:39.214-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What's wrong</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I am seeing life in a whole new perspective with this little bunch of students I have this year. I still do not understand their view of the universe, but maybe you could help me. As a language activity the other day we were looking at pictures that had things wrong with them-for example: there was a man fully clothed taking a bath, a man walking up the side of a building, a dog taking a boy on a walk. . .you get the idea. Usually this activity is easy for the students and we laugh about all the silly things happening in the pictures-this time I just plain laughed at the kids. Let me give you one (of many) comment. I showed them a picture of a girl dressed in a raincoat holding an umbrella with hotdogs falling from the sky. "What is wrong with this picture?" The students all looked at the picture for the longest time before one student asked "Where's the ketcup?" as if that was the biggest thing wrong with the picture. So-next time you find yourself in a hotdog rainstorm, please count yourself lucky if your hotdogs have ketcup on them-I mean it could be worst :)&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267475040288729490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SRnUpA-laZI/AAAAAAAAABY/JrOq3aNqr_8/s200/CIMG0060.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/275359218300541096-1528482694699369871?l=thefroghunter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/feeds/1528482694699369871/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=275359218300541096&amp;postID=1528482694699369871' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/1528482694699369871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/1528482694699369871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/2008/10/whats-wrong.html' title='What&apos;s wrong'/><author><name>Charity</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16856375172193641099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/S1-_-R41v_I/AAAAAAAAAIY/-a7Sqn3c9SY/S220/0718092005-01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SRnUpA-laZI/AAAAAAAAABY/JrOq3aNqr_8/s72-c/CIMG0060.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275359218300541096.post-1419947928894742438</id><published>2008-10-11T08:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-11T08:57:01.390-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Halloween Costume Help</title><content type='html'>So I already have a costume request (demand?) for next year but I have no idea what to wear this year.  Let me tell you my costume &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;dilemma&lt;/span&gt; that stems back to at least when I was 12 and maybe even to when I was 6 and was a red crayon (I won a best dressed prize for it and looking at the pictures I was very cute and what a creative idea but you should see my face-not so happy).  For mutual when I was a Beehive we were invited to the big Halloween dance.  I was so excited and thought about the costume for weeks.  I had been hearing some of the cool girls throw around the idea of being a witch and I thought I could do that-so I did.  Well I was the ugliest witch I have ever seen at Halloween and you should have seen the big hairy mole on my face-it was amazing-that is until I got to church.  All those cool girls were indeed "witches" but the cutest most stylish witches you have ever seen.  And that was just the beginning of my dislike for dressing up for Halloween-dressing up I like to do, but I just can't seem to master the technique of looking cute and sexy as I do it.  So back to my current &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;dilemma&lt;/span&gt;-Kendra has requested that I be the pirate ship next year (not the most attractive image as I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;envision&lt;/span&gt; it, but mom-once you figure out how to make Kate's birthday cake for this year do you think you can figure out how to make a pirate ship).  Back to this year. . .I am open to suggestions. . .&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/275359218300541096-1419947928894742438?l=thefroghunter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/feeds/1419947928894742438/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=275359218300541096&amp;postID=1419947928894742438' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/1419947928894742438'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/1419947928894742438'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/2008/10/halloween-costume-help.html' title='Halloween Costume Help'/><author><name>Charity</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16856375172193641099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/S1-_-R41v_I/AAAAAAAAAIY/-a7Sqn3c9SY/S220/0718092005-01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275359218300541096.post-6066274032457303736</id><published>2008-10-09T16:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-01T18:21:17.937-07:00</updated><title type='text'>WHAT TIME IS IT?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SQ0AgrwDDrI/AAAAAAAAAA0/lkbJ_EIMlsg/s1600-h/clock.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263864100966043314" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 97px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 126px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SQ0AgrwDDrI/AAAAAAAAAA0/lkbJ_EIMlsg/s200/clock.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Since this is a public blog I will be careful so I don't get fired, but lets just say that this morning it was already light when I got out of bed. I faintly remember my alarm clock doing something this morning and I could almost testify in court that I only pushed the snooze, but well lets just say that I left the house for work/school without combing my hair or putting on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;deodorant (it is a little too personal to talk about underware so I won't), and lets just say that it was a good thing that it was a conference day and not a day with kids because. . . I have never done that before. Yikes-it is a good thing I got my hair cut and styled all cute yesterday so that it looked only 1/2 way cute or 1/2 way ugly today at school. Wow! What a way to start the day! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/275359218300541096-6066274032457303736?l=thefroghunter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/feeds/6066274032457303736/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=275359218300541096&amp;postID=6066274032457303736' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/6066274032457303736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/6066274032457303736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/2008/10/what-time-is-it.html' title='WHAT TIME IS IT?'/><author><name>Charity</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16856375172193641099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/S1-_-R41v_I/AAAAAAAAAIY/-a7Sqn3c9SY/S220/0718092005-01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SQ0AgrwDDrI/AAAAAAAAAA0/lkbJ_EIMlsg/s72-c/clock.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275359218300541096.post-710669520084056107</id><published>2008-10-05T18:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-05T19:01:19.839-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You all think bloggings fun</title><content type='html'>Okay okay so I'm posting something (sorry Luke no picture of a frog yet. I'll work on that one.) I do not have internet at home and blogs are banned at school so I get to blog only when I make it to the library and there is an empty computer (Othello is small but even so there are only 3 computers with the internet). On the days I am able to go to the library and do get a computer I have 30 whole minutes to try to post a blog of my own, check all of you blogs and try to get a comment or two on them too. Then you wonder why I am not reading books or updating my goodreads account-phew. Oh yeah, and to make matters worst the internet at the library has been down for 2 whole weeks (how dare they).  This is hard work being in the blogging club-I'm not sure I'm cut out for all this stress and the pressure of it all.  My favorite is when I call one of you (when I say you I am refering to my sisters-not sure who else is reading this but I am probably not refering to you-sorry no offense) anyways when I call and you cannot tell me stories because you tell me to just check your blog. Oh yeah sure that is not as easy as you think (see above note). Friday I was talking to Luke about the cool big frog that I caught. He got really excited and said "that's so cool Aunt Charity. Now all you need to do is take a picture of it and post it on your blog!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/275359218300541096-710669520084056107?l=thefroghunter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/feeds/710669520084056107/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=275359218300541096&amp;postID=710669520084056107' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/710669520084056107'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/710669520084056107'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/2008/10/you-all-think-bloggings-fun.html' title='You all think bloggings fun'/><author><name>Charity</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16856375172193641099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/S1-_-R41v_I/AAAAAAAAAIY/-a7Sqn3c9SY/S220/0718092005-01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275359218300541096.post-6655079165444107620</id><published>2008-09-15T16:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-15T16:38:59.928-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Whack-a-rat</title><content type='html'>I found out that the noise that made me not be able to sleep on Thursday night was actually. . .RATS!!  Yuck.  I couldn't sleep Thurs. (actually slept fine Friday) and didn't realize what it was until Saturday night when I had to use ear plugs to finally get a little bit of rest.  These rats are under my house crawling on my metal furnace venting and making so much noise-I am not sure what they are dropping and dragging and I'm not sure I want to know.  Truthfully I never knew a rat could make that much noise!  Mom asked me last night if I thought they were going to come out of the vent holes in my room I hadn't even thought of that-so thanks to that thought I couldn't sleep &lt;u&gt;again &lt;/u&gt;last night.  I was just wondering if any of you would like to come over to Aunt Charity's house for a sleepover tonight??? :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/275359218300541096-6655079165444107620?l=thefroghunter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/feeds/6655079165444107620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=275359218300541096&amp;postID=6655079165444107620' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/6655079165444107620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/6655079165444107620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/2008/09/whack-rat.html' title='Whack-a-rat'/><author><name>Charity</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16856375172193641099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/S1-_-R41v_I/AAAAAAAAAIY/-a7Sqn3c9SY/S220/0718092005-01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275359218300541096.post-1506676715094381266</id><published>2008-09-09T16:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T10:57:35.082-08:00</updated><title type='text'>"Teacher, is this right?"</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SRnVkJKAFOI/AAAAAAAAABg/8bGQepD7F2w/s1600-h/CIMG0056.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267476056096380130" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SRnVkJKAFOI/AAAAAAAAABg/8bGQepD7F2w/s200/CIMG0056.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Once a week I go from being the teacher to being the student. That was last night for me, and let me tell you as crazy and as hard as being the teacher sometimes is I still perfer it to the stress I felt as a student. I am taking an oil painting class every Monday from 7-10 (which by-the-way is way too late on a school night :)). This was my 3rd class and our 2nd class on our actual painting. It seems like I did everything wrong yesterday-first I put on too much paint the teacher told me it would be okay but I don't her to just call it okay I want it to be called amazing, so I tried to wipe it off and then it looked "okay" to me. Then we started making a bush which I thought looked okay, but when she said it would be okay she came over, asked if she could show me something and then completely took off my whole bush-I had to start over! (I am needing a defination on the word okay-her idea and my idea of it are completely different.) At the end of the night I left feeling quite proud of myself though-I put my picture up (it still has another week to go, but I still have to showcase it every week) and I think it looks okay! (Well if you take into account that I am not artistic by nature and it is my first attempt-I actually think it looks pretty AMAZING!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/275359218300541096-1506676715094381266?l=thefroghunter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/feeds/1506676715094381266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=275359218300541096&amp;postID=1506676715094381266' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/1506676715094381266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/1506676715094381266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/2008/09/is-this-right.html' title='&quot;Teacher, is this right?&quot;'/><author><name>Charity</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16856375172193641099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/S1-_-R41v_I/AAAAAAAAAIY/-a7Sqn3c9SY/S220/0718092005-01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/SRnVkJKAFOI/AAAAAAAAABg/8bGQepD7F2w/s72-c/CIMG0056.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275359218300541096.post-3848637288408180702</id><published>2008-08-30T12:04:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-30T12:08:45.464-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I think I survived</title><content type='html'>Just finished my first week of school (but really Kindergarten only went one day-Friday) and I think I survived-we didn't lose any kids, only 2 in tears and for only part of the day, and only 1 child with wet pants.  All in all I would say it was successful.  I woke up early Friday morning with every intention of exercising before I went to school but just couldn't get out of bed-and then was glad I didn't.  I sweated all day (not that you want to know that, but. . .its my blog I can write what I want too :)).  I felt like I was performing.  I had to keep the attention of 26 5 year olds (which is not easy let me tell you) and try to  keep them from asking-when is lunch, when is it time to go home, where is my mom. . . I am just glad I wore black so it wasn't completely obvious and I tried to stay far enough away from people that they couldn't smell me :).  Aren't you glad you weren't there!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/275359218300541096-3848637288408180702?l=thefroghunter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/feeds/3848637288408180702/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=275359218300541096&amp;postID=3848637288408180702' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/3848637288408180702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/3848637288408180702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-think-i-survived.html' title='I think I survived'/><author><name>Charity</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16856375172193641099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/S1-_-R41v_I/AAAAAAAAAIY/-a7Sqn3c9SY/S220/0718092005-01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275359218300541096.post-7600530132645635010</id><published>2008-08-26T17:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-30T11:49:44.900-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wonder Wind 1250 (have you even heard of that brand before?)</title><content type='html'>So I have a bone to pick with mom. I have been using grandpa's &lt;u&gt;old&lt;/u&gt; blowdryer since I moved into the ranch over 4 years ago. He passed away 10 years before that and who knows when the blowdryer was purchased, so needless to say it is a bit antique but I have never had a problem with it-that is until about a week ago. I was defrosting my freezer and Mom was at my house. I was trying Dawn's method of defrosting using my blowdryer when mom made the comment that my blowdryer was really old and didn't sound very good. I thought it sounded normal. Well that must have hurt my blowdryers feelings (if blowdryers have feelings) because exactly 2 days later my blowdryer died:(. Now I am not able to use the term "blowdryed my hair" or "blew dry my hair" (Scott did you ever determine which one was more correct). Wet hair thrown back in a pony tail is the way I'm going. I can't quite bring myself to purchase a new blowdryer-anyone know if there is an old one for sale on ebay?:)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/275359218300541096-7600530132645635010?l=thefroghunter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/feeds/7600530132645635010/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=275359218300541096&amp;postID=7600530132645635010' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/7600530132645635010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/7600530132645635010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/2008/08/wind-whirl-1275-have-you-even-heard-of.html' title='Wonder Wind 1250 (have you even heard of that brand before?)'/><author><name>Charity</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16856375172193641099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/S1-_-R41v_I/AAAAAAAAAIY/-a7Sqn3c9SY/S220/0718092005-01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275359218300541096.post-2355633602319046526</id><published>2008-08-23T11:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-23T11:55:39.459-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I almost DRANK A WHOLE GALLON OF MILK almost ALL BY MYSELF!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Unless you read between the lines you should be very proud of this grand accomplishment, but for those of you who are less than impressed let me give you some history so you too can glow with pride. I am not a milk drinker. I usually am impressed with myself if I drink a cup a week. I generally have an almost full 1/2 gallon of sour milk in my fridge at all times (just ask my dad-he has too often found this out the hard way). I always have good intentions and buy milk with an expiration date at least 2 weeks out, but even with only that amount I usually only drink a cup or 2 before it goes bad-this time, I drank it all by myself (well except for the glass dad drank and the 3/4 cup unfortunately did go sour). Good job Charity! Now please pass the cookies.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/275359218300541096-2355633602319046526?l=thefroghunter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/feeds/2355633602319046526/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=275359218300541096&amp;postID=2355633602319046526' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/2355633602319046526'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/275359218300541096/posts/default/2355633602319046526'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefroghunter.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-almost-drank-whole-gallon-of-milk.html' title='I almost DRANK A WHOLE GALLON OF MILK almost ALL BY MYSELF!'/><author><name>Charity</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16856375172193641099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2VbpiPQblz0/S1-_-R41v_I/AAAAAAAAAIY/-a7Sqn3c9SY/S220/0718092005-01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
