<?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-6402328001941539388</id><updated>2011-12-16T19:29:45.028-05:00</updated><category term='confession'/><category term='Webkinz'/><title type='text'>tales of a 4th grade nothing</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>75</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-7278405234133079173</id><published>2009-04-08T11:56:00.010-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-08T13:07:17.053-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Reaching.  Pretty Sure That's What I'm Supposed to be Doing.</title><content type='html'>I've recently seen three movies that affected me, in different yet similar ways. (Caution - possible movie spoilers ahead...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. TAKEN. A drama / suspense about a CIA-type man whose daughter is abducted in France and sold into the sex-slavery business, and his journey to rescue her. While CIA-type thrillers have always been high on my list, this one moved me on another level. I've been aware of this type of "underground" that goes on around the world, but I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since watching this movie. Maybe it's because I have a daughter who's about to embark on her first European trip without Daddy. Maybe it's because she's about to be "on her own" without an awful lot of street-smarts. Maybe it's something much greater than both of those.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. SEVEN POUNDS. With the exception of Men In Black, I love me some Will Smith. I will still watch Fresh Prince on Nick-at-Nite when Clint's not at home. This movie did not disappoint me. While it was a little dark and slightly confusing at first, I couldn't leave it. It was about a man who made a tragic choice that killed seven people, who then spent the rest of his days trying to make it up to seven more. While I don't agree with his philosophy of trying to "buy his own forgiveness," his desire to completely change the lives of complete strangers tugged at my heart. He was willing to do this, no matter the cost to himself. He looked for opportunities to do this. He didn't wait for them to knock on his door. This movie hasn't left my mind since I watched it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE. A must-see. Creative, entertaining, yet enlightening and heart-breaking all at the same time. A story-teller-type tale of a boy who grew up in the slums of India. Completely captured my heart. Maybe because I'm going to Peru in about 5 weeks, and I've seen pictures of homes and children there which looked like the homes and children depicted in this movie, and maybe it's knowing that I'm going to experience that lifestyle first-hand, even if only for a couple of days. Maybe it's because the resourcefulness of the adorable-yet conniving little boy achingly reminded me of one of my own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over coffee last week with two of my favorite friends, I was introduced to a benefit that's going to take place this weekend. It's called &lt;a href="http://reach2rescue.com/"&gt;Reach2Rescue&lt;/a&gt;. From what I can put together, it's sponsored (at least in part) by a young man in town who I know of, but do not know personally. To make a long story short, there are several bands putting on a concert with proceeds going towards rescuing boys and girls who are sex slaves in Nepal. A statistic on the website stated that in Nepal, "Girls between the ages of 8 and 16 are in the highest demand." I have a daughter who fits smack in the middle of that. So do her cousins. So do the girls on her soccer team. So do the girls I teach. So do the girls who live in our "neighborhood". That churns my stomach and takes my breath away. So I'm going. I've never heard any of the bands who will be playing. I may not like their music. But I'm going. And I'm taking at least one daughter with me. And I can't wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week, another friend's FB status said that she had spent the day volunteering at the Food Bank - "boxed enough food to feed 800 families!" She has 6 children (all home on spring break this week) and a husband who is going to be without a job in just a few weeks. But this is how she chose to spend her time. Reaching.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately I've felt more than a little disconnected. Some days I often don't feel like I reach my students. Many days, I feel like I'm not reaching my daughters. Sometimes, my husband even feels out of reach. But I don't think that these various recent events in my life are disconnected. I think they sat themselves on my doorstep and invited themselves to stay. So what am I going to do about it? This week, I'm &lt;strong&gt;going to reach&lt;/strong&gt;. I'm going to be at the concert on Friday night, helping to reach children in Nepal. As soon as I type this, I'm going to contact the Food Bank and see how I can be of help to reach people right here where I live. And in five weeks, I'm going to be reaching out to the &lt;a href="http://possessionslave.wordpress.com/2008/06/20/why-i-go/"&gt;Quechua people of Peru&lt;/a&gt;. Reaching. Being the hands of Jesus. Pretty sure that's what I'm supposed to be doing right now. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;LML&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-7278405234133079173?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/7278405234133079173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=7278405234133079173&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/7278405234133079173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/7278405234133079173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2009/04/reaching-pretty-sure-thats-what-im.html' title='Reaching.  Pretty Sure That&apos;s What I&apos;m Supposed to be Doing.'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-5701374704652922383</id><published>2009-02-01T22:23:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-01T22:43:02.469-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Superbowl Entertainment</title><content type='html'>Yes, I watched SuperBowl XLIII (that's 43...I've been teaching Roman numerals in math this week).  I typically will watch the SuperBowl just because it's the SuperBowl and everybody will be talking about it in the days that follow.  It was just us girls at home tonight, plus #1's friend "A".  Shortly after the game started, I realized that #1 and her BF had made a little wager on the outcome.  If the Steelers won, he had to take her on a shopping trip; if the Cardinals won, she had to take him out to dinner.  Now, #1 can almost always be found at a home SCA football game, but can almost never tell you anything except the final score.  She's like her mama...she's there to people-watch.  Tonight, however, was a different story.  She asked question after question - what does that mean?  what should they do now?  what is his position?  how many points is that worth? - in between her texting and Facebook updates. Over the years, I've learned a few things about football, but A knows the game well.  She very patiently answered all of #1's questions.  In the last half of the game, both girls were alternately cheering and groaning, much to #2's chagrin (9:00 bedtime).  When Arizona scored that touchdown in the last quarter, #1 screamed and jumped off the couch.  She then went to sit right next to A, clutching her arm.  Oh, and she refused to check her phone, knowing the BF was sending an in-your-face text.  You wouldn't believe how those two girls cheered when the Steelers pulled it off.  Personally, I think that she should make the BF buy her a Steelers jersey when he takes her shopping.  You know, add a lil' insult to injury. :)&lt;br /&gt;Oh.  I know you're wondering.  My favorite commercial was the one with Mr. &amp;amp; Mrs. Potato Head driving in the car.  I've already told #2 to take off her angry eyes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-5701374704652922383?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/5701374704652922383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=5701374704652922383&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/5701374704652922383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/5701374704652922383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2009/02/superbowl-entertainment.html' title='Superbowl Entertainment'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-4588562258757865046</id><published>2009-01-08T19:12:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-08T19:38:11.543-05:00</updated><title type='text'>She Did It</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;She's been thinking about it since way back in &lt;a href="http://smiley-says.blogspot.com/2007/10/should-i-or-should-i-not.html"&gt;2007&lt;/a&gt;. Yesterday, she finally gave in and did it. Here's the result.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SWabTiUFalI/AAAAAAAAAdI/iv4xc4KhKJw/s1600-h/haircut+001.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289086301956632178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 242px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SWab-AaCbnI/AAAAAAAAAdQ/KrqSSgfALTU/s320/haircut+001.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's not &lt;em&gt;exactly&lt;/em&gt; what I had in mind, and it's a good bit shorter than I think either one of us were thinking, but she seems to be in love with it. And that makes it all good with me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-4588562258757865046?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/4588562258757865046/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=4588562258757865046&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/4588562258757865046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/4588562258757865046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2009/01/she-did-it.html' title='She Did It'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SWab-AaCbnI/AAAAAAAAAdQ/KrqSSgfALTU/s72-c/haircut+001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-8026358496953087937</id><published>2009-01-02T14:18:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-02T14:37:49.837-05:00</updated><title type='text'>HIJACKED!!!</title><content type='html'>Can anybody out there tell me how &lt;a href="http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/12/christmas-lesson-learned.html"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; ended up here: &lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286782413423490994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SV5smCzjt7I/AAAAAAAAAc4/zllwCfonE-w/s320/hijacked.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My recent blog post was published, without any notification to me or permission from me, in the current publication of this paper. CAN THEY DO THAT???? Can they just copy and paste my words and sell them for profit like that? When I did research papers with my 5&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; graders last year, we talked about this little thing called &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;plaguerism&lt;/span&gt;. I even taught them how to cite the websites they used to gather their information. Surely I have some friends - English teachers, photographers, college students, graphic design artists - who can offer me some insight here. In the meantime...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;New Year's Lesson Learned: BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU POST ON HERE. YOU NEVER KNOW WHERE IT MAY END UP!!&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-8026358496953087937?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/8026358496953087937/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=8026358496953087937&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/8026358496953087937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/8026358496953087937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2009/01/hijacked.html' title='HIJACKED!!!'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SV5smCzjt7I/AAAAAAAAAc4/zllwCfonE-w/s72-c/hijacked.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-7238240678021466412</id><published>2008-12-30T23:02:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-03T02:01:08.250-05:00</updated><title type='text'>ELEVEN</title><content type='html'>It's a bit of an awkward age. One day you're watching Nickelodeon and playing Littlest Pet Shop. The next day, you're trying to straighten your own hair. It's the age where you transition from being the big kids at the elementary school to being the little kids ("awww...look how cute they are..." say the 7th graders) in middle school. It's the age where there are more non-toys on your Christmas list than there are toys, but it's still the toys that really excite you. It's the age where you need braces and deoderant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you get a group of 11-year old girls together, you get a lot of noise - shrill voices, raucous laughter, singing that sounds more like shouting. When you get a group of 11-year old girls together, you hear a lot of talk about boys, always including words like "ugly, disgusting, stupid, annoying" following by hushed whispers and quiet giggles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, #2 turned 11. When it was time to get dressed, she asked what shoes would match her new top best and asked me to straighten her hair in the back where she couldn't reach. Her first "gift" of the day was getting a pedicure with a BFF. They talked and laughed the entire time the nail techs were painting polka dots on their toes. Tonight, I took her and four friends for pizza and a movie. I let the girls have their own table at the restaurant, watched them order their own food and serve themselves. I sat behind them at the movies, watching them whisper to each other about funny parts and squirm during the parts that made us all cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This side of eleven is one that I love. Yes, they're awkward and loud. But when a familiar song came on the radio and all five of them were singing at the top of their lungs, I honestly wanted to keep on driving rather than turn in the driveway. When they were playing tag inside the house, I just waited out the squeals and tried to stay out of the way of 10 running and sliding feet. Eleven-year-old girls love life. They're not yet consumed by clothes or hair or make-up, they're not yet obsessed with thoughts of which boys are hot, they're not disrespectful or know-it-alls. They still like me, each other, and themselves. They're just trying to squeeze in as much fun - playing with dolls, jumping on the trampoline, shrieking with laughter - as they can. I almost think they're aware of what's coming. I know I am. And it's not all that fun from a mom's perspective. So for now, I'm enjoying this side of eleven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's going to be a long night. Those four friends are spending the night. Right now, it's 11:30 and they're getting set up for Guitar Hero. They'll be up and down the stairs a dozen times after midnight. They'll burst out in a fresh round of laughter just when I think they've finally gone to sleep. They probably won't go to sleep until 3 or 4 a.m. But it's all good. They're just eleven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAPPY ELEVENTH BIRTHDAY, #2! I LOVE YOU!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285809537486717762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SVr3xNhEg0I/AAAAAAAAAcw/XYw16o908tU/s320/bday+002.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-7238240678021466412?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/7238240678021466412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=7238240678021466412&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/7238240678021466412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/7238240678021466412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/12/eleven.html' title='ELEVEN'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SVr3xNhEg0I/AAAAAAAAAcw/XYw16o908tU/s72-c/bday+002.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-6276945290786042329</id><published>2008-12-26T21:11:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T21:56:51.053-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas '08 Highlights</title><content type='html'>(In no particular order...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Clint's Christmas gift to me was closing in a small area of our back porch to make a new room on the house - looks great, hubby!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;We got to see #2 perform in her last school Christmas musical - she was a swooning cheerleader!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Hosted a Christmas party for #1 and the basketball girls - lots of pizza, gag gifts, giggles, and Guitar Hero&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Tortured the girls by making them hunt for their gifts on Christmas morning&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Got to play with the cousins at Penny's house on Christmas Eve - we were amazed at B's vocabulary and outgoing personality, and G-man may very well be the cutest baby around&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Had our last Christmas Eve at Nanny's house - while she is already missed, it was precious to have one more Christmas in her home&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Played games with the girls and the grands on Christmas Day - Harry Potter Clue and Littlest Pet Shop Monopoly&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Took #2 and K ice skating at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Chehaw&lt;/span&gt; - I love to see the laughter when ten-year-old girls are having fun together!!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Successfully watched &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Bedtime Stories&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;a href="http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/12/christmas-lesson-learned.html"&gt;third time's the charm&lt;/a&gt;!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Gave donations as gifts to many family members and friends - Bibles for the Quechua people of Peru&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Saw the house in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Callaway&lt;/span&gt; Lakes with the dancing lights - and the woman who brought her own chair and toddy to watch :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;#1 organized a Christmas dinner/gift exchange with 10 of her closest friends&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Had new &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;PJs&lt;/span&gt; for Christmas Eve&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SVWV50I9MgI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/MhUbnHcuZS8/s1600-h/Christmas%21%21.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SVWV50I9MgI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/MhUbnHcuZS8/s320/Christmas%21%21.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284294558270435842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;All in all, it was a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;wonderful&lt;/span&gt; Christmas... and it's not over yet!  :-)&lt;br /&gt;Hope yours was great too!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-6276945290786042329?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/6276945290786042329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=6276945290786042329&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/6276945290786042329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/6276945290786042329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/12/christmas-08-highlights.html' title='Christmas &apos;08 Highlights'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SVWV50I9MgI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/MhUbnHcuZS8/s72-c/Christmas%21%21.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-4180294875234928060</id><published>2008-12-25T22:37:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-02T10:42:38.853-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas Lesson Learned</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.aceshowbiz.com/images/still/bedtime_stories01.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 248px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 373px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.aceshowbiz.com/images/still/bedtime_stories01.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For several weeks now, I had been excited about what I had hoped would become a new Christmas family tradition. Having seen the previews for Disney's new movie &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NSlZmA3dAS8"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;Bedtime Stories&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, I had planned for all of us to go to the movie Christmas night. After several hectic days of cooking, eating, wrapping, opening, smiling for pictures, taking pictures, visiting with family, going to the next house...I thought this would be a calm way to end the day. I was excited. I &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;LOVE &lt;/span&gt;to go to the movies, and we very rarely go as a family anymore.&lt;br /&gt;We tried to go for the 8:00 show. Sold out. This should have been my first clue, but we went ahead and bought tickets for the 9:30 show. #2 was pumped about getting to go a "late movie" - that would be a first for her! So we returned to the theater an hour and a half later with tickets in hand. (Picture me at this point rubbing my palms together in glee.) Armed with a large Coke and a box of chocolate-covered raisins, we headed into our theater. This should have been my second clue. The noise level was such that I was afraid we might not be able to find four seats together, but when we rounded the corner, the theater wasn't even half full. We settled into our seats about four rows from the top (just where I like to sit), but noticed quickly that most people weren't settling anywhere. Large groups of teenagers would sit down in one area, only to get up a few minutes later and move to another one, all the while &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;yelling&lt;/span&gt; at friends on the opposite side. I'm reminding my girls not to put their feet on the seats in front of them, and the kids around us are cussing &amp;amp; yelling. My girls are rolling their eyes at me, while I'm saying a prayer of thanks for private schools. Surely it would get better once the movie started, right?!? About halfway through the previews, the manager came in with a sheriff's deputy and about six employees. He gave a speech about theater etiquette, while the dudes in burgundy vests checked ticket stubs. No problem. Daughter #1 said they did the same exact thing when she went to see &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;Twilight&lt;/span&gt; last month. The movie begins. Granted, the volume was too low, even for a calm theater, but with the noise all around us, you couldn't hear a thing. We were surrounded by the most &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;obnoxious, inconsiderate, rude, unruly, disrespectful, and selfish &lt;/span&gt;group of teenagers I have ever been around in my life. The sheriff's deputy came back in, either yelling at people to put their cell phones away, or asking them to leave. Burgundy-vest-dudes tried to keep the theater quiet, but the "patrons" only argued with them. About fifteen minutes into the picture, when another sheriff's deputy came in, surely to eject them, we knew it was time to leave. (Picture me now with steam coming out of my ears.) The manager, bless his heart, was happy to refund the money for both our tickets and concessions. Honestly, I feel bad for him and his staff. They were fighting a losing battle. I think every family in that theater left. I can't tell you a single thing about the fifteen minutes of the movie that I sat through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;Lesson Learned: DON'T GO TO THE MOVIES ON CHRISTMAS DAY IN ALBANY, GA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;Disclaimer: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;We had a wonderful Christmas Day with family. Happy Christmas post to come tomorrow, after I go see my movie. :-)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-4180294875234928060?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/4180294875234928060/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=4180294875234928060&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/4180294875234928060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/4180294875234928060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/12/christmas-lesson-learned.html' title='Christmas Lesson Learned'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-960008208524000333</id><published>2008-12-18T17:12:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-03T02:02:13.910-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm It.</title><content type='html'>I'm supposed to be baking brownies. I'm supposed to be sweeping floors. I'm supposed to be getting ready for the Christmas party I'm hosting in two hours. But okay, AL, I'll play along. :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rules were...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Choose the 4th folder where you store your pictures on your computer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Select the 4th picture in the folder&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) Explain the picture&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) Tag 4 people to do the same&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NO CHEATING! (cropping, editing, etc!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's my picture:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281613760138182450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SUwPu03Z_zI/AAAAAAAAAcI/h9CPnRxVWkM/s320/Peru+005.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was taken in June of 2007. I was sending my hubby and daughter #1 off to Peru. They were joing the SCA mission team for a 10 day trip to share the love in the Andes Mts. (#2 and I were headed to Disney World.)&lt;br /&gt;Next Peru pics...I hope I'm in 'em!! :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now it's your turn...&lt;a href="http://catchingupwithcassie.blogspot.com/"&gt;Cass&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://possessionslave.wordpress.com/"&gt;Clint&lt;/a&gt;, Lyndi, and... do I have any other readers out there? I don't think so.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-960008208524000333?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/960008208524000333/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=960008208524000333&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/960008208524000333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/960008208524000333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/12/im-it.html' title='I&apos;m It.'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SUwPu03Z_zI/AAAAAAAAAcI/h9CPnRxVWkM/s72-c/Peru+005.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-1250953423827473577</id><published>2008-11-21T23:07:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-21T23:36:09.023-05:00</updated><title type='text'>PEACE.  LOVE.  VAMPIRES.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.stepheniemeyer.com/twilight.html"&gt;Twilight&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/em&gt; Yes, I'm an avid reader. But #1? She's &lt;strong&gt;obsessed&lt;/strong&gt;. She devoured the books, like I've never seen her read anything else. She quite literally shrieked with joy when she got an e-mail that the movie tickets had gone on sale here. You can't have a conversation with her without some &lt;em&gt;Twilight&lt;/em&gt; reference sneaking into it. She's had many a spirited debate on whether vampires "sparkle" (in the sun, as Stephanie Meyers' characters do), or&lt;strong&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;die, as is the commonly-held belief in vampire lore. She bought the soundtrack the day it hit the stores, after agonizing on whether to purchase it off ITunes or get the real CD. She bought the CD because it came with a poster. She watched every movie trailer on the internet. She was counting down the hours (for several days, mind you) until she got to go to the movie tonight. She made t-shirts for her and the BFF to wear. I'd bet she had a hard time going to sleep last night just thinking about it. Her dad and boyfriend just roll their eyes. Personally, I find it endearing. If you know #1, she's calm and easy-going, nothing much gets her very excited. I think the twinkle she gets in her eyes at the mention of&lt;em&gt; Twilight&lt;/em&gt; is so adorable, I talk about it just to see her reaction. I'm gonna pay to go see the movie with her tomorrow, just so I can hear the bubbly excitement in her voice. Obsessed? You bet she is.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh. The back of the shirts. "Bite me. &lt;strong&gt;PLEASE&lt;/strong&gt;."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love this girl!&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271335094484663650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 241px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SSeLVvbO_WI/AAAAAAAAAbo/xFLP0YhWHgo/s320/obsesses+001.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/6402328001941539388-1250953423827473577?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/1250953423827473577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=1250953423827473577&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/1250953423827473577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/1250953423827473577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/11/peace-love-vampires.html' title='PEACE.  LOVE.  VAMPIRES.'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SSeLVvbO_WI/AAAAAAAAAbo/xFLP0YhWHgo/s72-c/obsesses+001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-5362623461101071753</id><published>2008-11-19T10:16:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T10:35:14.226-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Open Up, Already!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SSQyG3beSeI/AAAAAAAAAbY/9B1kFQPqp7s/s1600-h/twilightminicover.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270392557470108130" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 100px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SSQyG3beSeI/AAAAAAAAAbY/9B1kFQPqp7s/s320/twilightminicover.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Maybe I'm showing my lack of techno-savvy here, but...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm home with a sick child today, it's freezing outside, and I'd like nothing better than to read a few chapters of &lt;em&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.stepheniemeyer.com/midnightsun.html"&gt;Midnight Sun&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/em&gt;. Problem is, whenever I try to open the &lt;a href="http://www.stepheniemeyer.com/midnightsun.html"&gt;file&lt;/a&gt;, I get nothing but a blank page. I do have the Adobe Reader installed. Haven't seen any pop-ups warning about anything. Can anybody tell me what to do???&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Signed,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Shamelessly addicted to &lt;em&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.stepheniemeyer.com/twilight.html"&gt;Twilight&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-5362623461101071753?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/5362623461101071753/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=5362623461101071753&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/5362623461101071753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/5362623461101071753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/11/open-up-already.html' title='Open Up, Already!!!'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SSQyG3beSeI/AAAAAAAAAbY/9B1kFQPqp7s/s72-c/twilightminicover.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-681574084486325614</id><published>2008-10-02T21:50:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-03T21:42:39.233-04:00</updated><title type='text'>7 Things You Never Knew About ME</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1.  I watch Disney Channel shows.&lt;/strong&gt;  Suite Life, Hannah Montana, Drake &amp;amp; Josh (that's actually Nickelodeon), and Wizards of Waverly Place are a few of my faves.  I think I've seen nearly all of the episodes of each of them at least three times.  When Clint's at work, and it's just us girls for supper, we snuggle on the couch and watch these shows.  Good times.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2.  I want a puppy.&lt;/strong&gt;  Yep, it's true.  Something cute and furry that will cuddle in my lap, but not shed dog hair all over my couches.  Oh, and I want Clint to train it for me.  :-)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3.  I think my feet are extremely cute. &lt;/strong&gt; I've always been a little vain about my toes.  They descend nicely in length from the big toe to my little one.  That's why losing my toenail (&lt;a href="http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/07/this-is-what-i-get-for-trying-to-be.html"&gt;did I tell you I lost my toenail?&lt;/a&gt;) has been so dramatic for me.  You know what they say...pride goeth before a fall.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4.  When I grow up, I wanna be a teacher's aide.&lt;/strong&gt;  All of the pleasure, none of the pain.  You still get nights, weekends, and summers off.  But you don't take any work home.  You still get to interact with the kids.  But not with the parents.  :-)  You still get to make bulletin boards, organize activities, and grade papers.  But those are your only responsibilities.  Yes, the nerd in me loves to do all three of those things.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;5.  I love to shop for school supplies. &lt;/strong&gt; This is one giddy girl when July rolls around, and the stores start to put out brand new notebooks, pencils, and crayons.  It's a huge deal around here.  I buy at least a dozen boxes of (Crayola!) crayons and just as many composition books when they're dirt cheap.  I had begun to be sad at the prospect of not getting to do this with #1 for much longer.  But last year, we started filling two extra backpacks with supplies and dropping them off at a nearby public school.  Now, I have a reason for buying school supplies for MANY more years to come.  That makes me happy.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;6.  I was a competitive gymnast during middle and high school.&lt;/strong&gt;  I actually won second place in state for my age division and competition level one year.  That other girl beat me.  I also taught gymnastics for quite a few years afterwards.  Sometimes I still see the girls from my preschool class around town.  Now they're all grown up and starting families of their own. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;7.  I'm slightly OCD when it comes to eating peanut M&amp;amp;Ms.&lt;/strong&gt;  I like to get one of each color in my hand at a time.  I never eat two of the same color at a time.  OR, I only eat two of each color at a time.  Weird, I know.  But, hey, that's me.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Well, now you know almost everything there is to know about me.  Hope you'll still be my friend.  And I'm taggin' &lt;a href="http://www.catchingupwithcassie.blogspot.com/"&gt;#1&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://www.smiley-says.blogspot.com/"&gt;#2&lt;/a&gt;.  I'm interested to hear what they have to say... &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-681574084486325614?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/681574084486325614/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=681574084486325614&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/681574084486325614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/681574084486325614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/10/7-things-you-never-knew-about-me.html' title='7 Things You Never Knew About ME'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-4497937671889235931</id><published>2008-09-14T13:20:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-14T13:25:01.393-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Take a Look!!</title><content type='html'>Here's a &lt;a href="http://tamminowackphotography.blogspot.com/2008/09/senior-sneak-peek.html"&gt;sneak peek &lt;/a&gt;at our favorite senior, thanks to &lt;a href="http://tamminowackphotography.blogspot.com/"&gt;Tammi&lt;/a&gt;. :-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-4497937671889235931?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/4497937671889235931/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=4497937671889235931&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/4497937671889235931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/4497937671889235931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/09/take-look.html' title='Take a Look!!'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-6448032230938104442</id><published>2008-09-06T20:59:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T21:06:48.519-04:00</updated><title type='text'>It Happened</title><content type='html'>I knew it would happen one day.  I didn't know when.  Or where. Or how.  I had wondered how long it would take...who would be with me when it finally did happen?  I wondered if I would even notice.  I wasn't sure if I wanted it to happen or not...would it hurt?  Would anybody be there to offer support?  Would anybody understand what I was going through? &lt;br /&gt;Tonight was the night.  It actually happened during dinner at my parents' house.  I'm glad I was surrounded by family when it occured.  I'm glad they were there to share the moment and offer support when...&lt;br /&gt;my &lt;a href="http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/07/this-is-what-i-get-for-trying-to-be.html"&gt;toenail&lt;/a&gt; FINALLY fell off.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-6448032230938104442?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/6448032230938104442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=6448032230938104442&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/6448032230938104442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/6448032230938104442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/09/it-happened.html' title='It Happened'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-7536179758956977421</id><published>2008-08-10T17:20:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-10T17:38:23.013-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Bliss on the River</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;One of my favorite "pasttimes" is going out on the boat. No, we don't have a boat, but Grandpa does. We used to take it out quite a bit when G'ma &amp;amp; G'pa had a little place at the lake, and even after that we would run it down the river fairly often. However, I don't think it's been put in the water but once or twice since we started building our house, and that's been, oh, maybe 5 years. Anyhow...Hubby surprised me yesterday morning by telling me he was going to get it out and clean it up. #2 and I pitched in for a little bit, and by late afternoon he had it cranked up &amp;amp; ready to run.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today we took #2 and her friend "G" out for an afternoon ride. I love the feel of the sun on my shoulders, the breeze in my hair, and the water underneath me. I could ride like that for the entire day!! #2 and I tried out the tube, but the years of non-use had taken their toll. Guess we'll be in the market for one of those now. I can't wait to get #1 back on a tube - we used to laugh and scream the whole time we were riding. FUN TIMES!! We decided that one day soon we're going to pack up some fixin's and have us a lil' BBQ there on the "beach." Hubby &amp;amp; I even picked out a nice waterfront spot for our retirement years. :-) We'd both love to live on the water one day. In the meantime, we'll settle for an afternoon cruise down the Flint.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233004712750687666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SJ9eD4NzJbI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/OelM3acIIh0/s320/8-10-08+(1).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/6402328001941539388-7536179758956977421?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/7536179758956977421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=7536179758956977421&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/7536179758956977421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/7536179758956977421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/08/bliss-on-river.html' title='Bliss on the River'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SJ9eD4NzJbI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/OelM3acIIh0/s72-c/8-10-08+(1).jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-1443916077933847232</id><published>2008-07-24T14:35:00.011-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T03:43:22.334-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mom Will Be So Proud!!!</title><content type='html'>Anyone who knows me knows that I am not a very healthy eater. Well, trying to be more "grown-up" in my meal choices (and a better example to my finicky daughters) I decided to try something new today. I just finished a Chargrilled Chicken Salad from Chick-fil-a, complete with spicy dressing and sunflower seeds. I didn't even pick the carrots &amp;amp; purple onions off! And guess what?? I liked it! I never believed that a salad could fill me up, but it did. Next I'm going to try the Zen-sation from Zaxby's that Clint is so crazy about!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh...also got a new cut &amp;amp; color today. Went a little darker with some cool chunky blonde highlights (which don't show much in the picture). I like it, but it probably won't look like this once it's washed. :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SIjPGRnD96I/AAAAAAAAATw/ApzID553eHA/s1600-h/haircut+002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226655074276865954" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="148" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SIjPGRnD96I/AAAAAAAAATw/ApzID553eHA/s200/haircut+002.jpg" width="200" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, its out to the pool for a nap. Not too many days left to do that!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-1443916077933847232?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/1443916077933847232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=1443916077933847232&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/1443916077933847232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/1443916077933847232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/07/mom-will-be-so-proud.html' title='Mom Will Be So Proud!!!'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SIjPGRnD96I/AAAAAAAAATw/ApzID553eHA/s72-c/haircut+002.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-7545459926943523352</id><published>2008-07-19T22:11:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-19T22:20:00.402-04:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Been a Super Saturday!</title><content type='html'>Slept 'til 10ish... KrispyKreme donuts for breakfast (surprise!!)... had help finishing my cleaning... floated in the pool with a book for three hours... ate supper with the family... had hubby's homemade ice cream for dessert... gave baby &lt;a href="http://thesoles.blogspot.com/2008/05/grant-davidson-soles.html"&gt;Grant&lt;/a&gt; his bedtime bottle... and now I'm watching #2 play MarioKart, just waiting to go to bed (at a normal hour for a change).&lt;br /&gt;I love Saturday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-7545459926943523352?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/7545459926943523352/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=7545459926943523352&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/7545459926943523352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/7545459926943523352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/07/its-been-super-saturday.html' title='It&apos;s Been a Super Saturday!'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-2802610327419561685</id><published>2008-07-15T17:39:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T03:43:22.506-05:00</updated><title type='text'>This Is What I Get for Trying to Be Productive...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Since we've been home for...oh, two weeks now, I thought I would get all of our suitcases tucked back away in the attic today. After dutifully inspecting each to make sure it was truly empty, then nesting each one inside the other, I lugged them up the stairs. As usual, there were some things that had to be moved before I could put them back in their proper attic spot. Once the clutter had been moved out of the way, I took one heaving breath...and did this.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223362183436597890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SH0cOzTyeoI/AAAAAAAAATk/KAxtVaLT58U/s400/toes+(2).jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh........my..........gosh. I had pulled my big toenail all the way back. It was only hanging on at the base of the nailbed. (*Shudder*) I frantically started yelling for Riley, who could not decide whether Mom (who was rolling around on the floor at this point) was laughing or crying. Once she understood what had happened, she had the utmost sympathy for me - being that she ripped her pinky fingernail off after slamming it in the car door last summer. Well, what exactly does one do when you have an almost-ripped-off-toenail??? I called my mom. After some "OOOh-ing" she basically told me I could go the emergency room and let them "surgically" remove it, or I could suck it up and wait for it to fall off. Wow - what appealing options. My next move...call Clint, at the fire station. I knew there was nothing he could do, but I was looking for some sympathy. So, here we are after ice, Advil, and an afternoon on the couch with the foot propped up &lt;a href="http://www.utahmountainbiking.com/firstaid/nailavul.htm"&gt;Googling advice for "dangling big toenail"&lt;/a&gt;. Here's what I want to know. Is the thing really going to just fall off? Because right now it seems to be stuck right back on there!?! And how long does it take to grow a brand-spanking-new big toenail? Tammi, just imagine how they'll talk about me (in Chinese, of course!) when I go back for a pedicure. And I had just painted all 10 of them with the brand new sparkly black polish too. Dang...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-2802610327419561685?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/2802610327419561685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=2802610327419561685&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/2802610327419561685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/2802610327419561685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/07/this-is-what-i-get-for-trying-to-be.html' title='This Is What I Get for Trying to Be Productive...'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SH0cOzTyeoI/AAAAAAAAATk/KAxtVaLT58U/s72-c/toes+(2).jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-1564643500074716774</id><published>2008-07-10T10:56:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T03:43:22.521-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Heaven in a Box</title><content type='html'>My good friend Cheryl stopped by &lt;a href="http://www.panerabread.com/"&gt;Panera Bread&lt;/a&gt; on her way home from the beach and brought me these:&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SHYkr--tHnI/AAAAAAAAATc/uWBL_zas51w/s1600-h/bagels%21.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SHYkr--tHnI/AAAAAAAAATc/uWBL_zas51w/s320/bagels%21.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221401156041645682" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A whole box of cinnamon crunch bagels with honey walnut cream cheese.  YYYUUUMMM!!!  One of my very favorite breakfast treats.  If you've never tried Panera, you should...and call me.  I wanna go, too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-1564643500074716774?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/1564643500074716774/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=1564643500074716774&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/1564643500074716774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/1564643500074716774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/07/heaven-in-box.html' title='Heaven in a Box'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SHYkr--tHnI/AAAAAAAAATc/uWBL_zas51w/s72-c/bagels%21.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-7181846988923040954</id><published>2008-07-06T00:48:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T02:28:56.342-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Not Your Typical Vegas Trip...</title><content type='html'>I'm not a gambler.  Or a drinker.  So 5 days in Vegas with my husband and 2 daughters was a bit of a challenge.  I do love to see new places and new things though.  And since I knew that hubby would probably NOT be returning to this city, I wanted to see as much of it as I could.  We walked...and walked...and walked...from one hotel to another.  Given the chance, I would have gone through every one of them because each one has something different to offer.  Here are the highlights of my trip:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;First flight...of many more to come, I hope!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;M&amp;amp;M World.  What a fun place.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Phantom of the Opera.  I LOVED it.  It was my first time to see it live.  I'm buying the soundtrack this week.  You know what I'll be rockin' out to!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Our gondolier.  We went on a gondola ride at The Venetian hotel.  Not much bang for the buck, but our gondolier could &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;sing&lt;/span&gt;!!!  She was a middle school choir teacher, and one of the friendliest people we encountered during the week.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Seeing the Grand Canyon.  Although we were only able to see a small portion of it, it is truly an awe-inspiring place.  Incredible views.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Watching my brother-in-law win $250 on a slot machine at the LV airport.  Doesn't take much to entertain me.  My $20 was gone in 3 minutes, but he cashed out after, oh...maybe half an hour.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://picasaweb.google.com/s/c/bin/slideshow.swf" width="288" height="192" flashvars="host=picasaweb.google.com&amp;amp;captions=1&amp;amp;noautoplay=1&amp;amp;RGB=0x000000&amp;amp;feed=http%3A%2F%2Fpicasaweb.google.com%2Fdata%2Ffeed%2Fapi%2Fuser%2Fnoblesamy%2Falbumid%2F5219764938439943089%3Fkind%3Dphoto%26alt%3Drss%26authkey%3DIJ3zfIJPK2I" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-7181846988923040954?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/7181846988923040954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=7181846988923040954&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/7181846988923040954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/7181846988923040954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/07/not-your-typical-vegas-trip.html' title='Not Your Typical Vegas Trip...'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-1697391847062149085</id><published>2008-06-26T19:55:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T03:43:22.547-05:00</updated><title type='text'>SIN CITY</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And my first temptation was...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SGQv482mb4I/AAAAAAAAANk/nB-WcUnyqTs/s1600-h/Vegas+Baby%21%21+M%26M.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SGQv482mb4I/AAAAAAAAANk/nB-WcUnyqTs/s400/Vegas+Baby%21%21+M%26M.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216346923856195458" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;M&amp;amp;Ms.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;In every color - 22 to be exact.  &lt;br /&gt;Make your own mix.  &lt;br /&gt;I gave in.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-style: italic;"&gt;I love M&amp;amp;Ms.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-1697391847062149085?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/1697391847062149085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=1697391847062149085&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/1697391847062149085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/1697391847062149085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/06/sin-city.html' title='SIN CITY'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SGQv482mb4I/AAAAAAAAANk/nB-WcUnyqTs/s72-c/Vegas+Baby%21%21+M%26M.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-1134482229062136670</id><published>2008-06-26T19:48:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T03:43:22.556-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Earned My Wings!</title><content type='html'>It took me 35 years, but yesterday, I FINALLY took my first flight.  I thought I might be nervous, but if I do say so myself, I thought I handled everything just fine.  Here's a view of what I saw from my seat on the plane.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SGQrapB8gcI/AAAAAAAAANc/NKUlZdMc0pg/s1600-h/Vegas+Baby%21%21+005.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SGQrapB8gcI/AAAAAAAAANc/NKUlZdMc0pg/s400/Vegas+Baby%21%21+005.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216342005092483522" 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/6402328001941539388-1134482229062136670?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/1134482229062136670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=1134482229062136670&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/1134482229062136670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/1134482229062136670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/06/i-earned-my-wings.html' title='I Earned My Wings!'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SGQrapB8gcI/AAAAAAAAANc/NKUlZdMc0pg/s72-c/Vegas+Baby%21%21+005.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-2175424724337235418</id><published>2008-06-15T17:24:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-15T17:24:26.703-04:00</updated><title type='text'>THEY'RE HOME -</title><content type='html'>Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-2175424724337235418?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/2175424724337235418/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=2175424724337235418&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/2175424724337235418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/2175424724337235418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/06/theyre-home.html' title='THEY&apos;RE HOME -'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-5676063947315896657</id><published>2008-06-14T18:15:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-14T18:17:02.974-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Go Get a Frosty</title><content type='html'>Saw this in &lt;a href="http://www.meetthebakers.com/"&gt;Jamie's&lt;/a&gt; blog. It entertained me for a minute, and it's for a good cause...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;script src="http://widgets.clearspring.com/o/482dac69c77f6d26/4854430e57092ff4/4852ad8e5f4b06e3/e4eaf93d/widget.js" type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;/script&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-5676063947315896657?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/5676063947315896657/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=5676063947315896657&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/5676063947315896657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/5676063947315896657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/06/go-get-frosty.html' title='Go Get a Frosty'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-2818974962878011078</id><published>2008-06-13T23:16:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-13T23:22:48.655-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Music to my Ears</title><content type='html'>Tonight we had a going-away party for "L" who is one of #2's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;BFFs&lt;/span&gt;.  Her family is moving to North Carolina for a new ministry opportunity.  So my house was filled with the sounds of 9 little girls who haven't been together for several weeks - giggles at the dinner table, shouting in the pool, stomping from the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;DDR&lt;/span&gt;, squeals over air hockey, snickers during photographs, footsteps trudging up and down the stairs.  &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I love it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;  I love to see these little girls enjoying each other and having fun at my house.  I hope there are many more fun nights for these little girls!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Farewell to "L" and her family.  You will be missed.  We love you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-2818974962878011078?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/2818974962878011078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=2818974962878011078&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/2818974962878011078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/2818974962878011078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/06/music-to-my-ears.html' title='Music to my Ears'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-2566828957792045849</id><published>2008-06-12T22:59:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T03:43:22.776-05:00</updated><title type='text'>TRUE LOVE</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SFHj8o3kwdI/AAAAAAAAAM8/QFr-lkcld4o/s1600-h/buddy+dog.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211196874746544594" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SFHj8o3kwdI/AAAAAAAAAM8/QFr-lkcld4o/s200/buddy+dog.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We've had some bad weather around here the last couple of nights. Nothing serious, just long thunderstorms. Buddy (our dog) is not fond of bad weather. First rumble of thunder and he's going to be under someone's feet or in #2's room. Well, #2 and I were watching a &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3nFQE0dg_3Y"&gt;movie&lt;/a&gt; when the thunder started last night, and Buddy promptly jumped right up on the couch with #2 and stayed there for the rest of the movie. I'm not sure who enjoyed it more... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-2566828957792045849?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/2566828957792045849/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=2566828957792045849&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/2566828957792045849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/2566828957792045849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/06/true-love.html' title='TRUE LOVE'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SFHj8o3kwdI/AAAAAAAAAM8/QFr-lkcld4o/s72-c/buddy+dog.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-187660574586433360</id><published>2008-06-11T21:59:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-11T22:27:40.325-04:00</updated><title type='text'>BLOG TAG!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Thanks to &lt;a href="http://caseyperkins.blogspot.com/2008/06/blog-tag.html"&gt;Casey&lt;/a&gt; for giving me something to do tonight!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Rules:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Post the rules of the game at the beginning.&lt;br /&gt;2. Each player answers the questions about themselves.&lt;br /&gt;3. At the end of the post, the player then tags 3 people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know they’ve been tagged and asking them to read the player’s blog.&lt;br /&gt;4. Let the person who tagged you know when you’ve posted your answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE QUESTIONS:&lt;br /&gt;What were you doing five years ago?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2003... We were getting ready to go on our first cruise, to Mexico, with our friends Brian &amp;amp; Keri.  It was for our 10th anniversary!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What are (were, in my case) five things on your to-do list for today?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 - Meet co-worker for lunch -- check, we went to Plantation Grille, it was the 1st time I had      been there&lt;br /&gt;2 - Go to nursery for plants -- check, I got two massive ferns which thoroughly enjoyed tonight's  rain&lt;br /&gt;3 - Watch National Treasure 2 with #2 -- check again, we just finished it&lt;br /&gt;4 - Finish organizing in the office -- can't check that yet, maybe when I FINISH PLAYING TAG&lt;br /&gt;5 - Get a good night's sleep!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What are five snacks you enjoy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;1 - Peanut M&amp;amp;Ms&lt;br /&gt;2 - Ice cream&lt;br /&gt;3 - Apples &amp;amp; caramel dip&lt;br /&gt;4 - Chips &amp;amp; salsa&lt;br /&gt;5 - Cookies -- hey it's a snack, it doesn't have to be healthy does it?  Besides, it asked what my FAVORITES were, not what I eat most often&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What are five things you would do if you were a billionaire?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 - Build Clint a SHOP&lt;br /&gt;2 - Pay off debt -- ours +  some&lt;br /&gt;3 - See that our parents can retire -- now, not in 1,2?? days&lt;br /&gt;4 - Travel , travel, travel!&lt;br /&gt;5 - &lt;a href="http://noblemissions.wordpress.com/"&gt;Give to others&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What are five of your bad habits?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 - Procrastinating&lt;br /&gt;2 - Watching "junk" on TV -- George Lopez, currently&lt;br /&gt;3 - Putting wants before needs&lt;br /&gt;4 - Blogs&lt;br /&gt;5 - Staying up too late, getting up too early -- the former always, the latter not so much in the summer :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What are five places where you have lived?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 - San Antonio, TX -- well, only for a few months&lt;br /&gt;2 - Greenville, SC&lt;br /&gt;3 - Albany, GA&lt;br /&gt;4 -&lt;br /&gt;5 -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What are five jobs you’ve had?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;1 - Gymnastics teacher&lt;br /&gt;2 - Drug store cashier&lt;br /&gt;3 - Mail store owner&lt;br /&gt;4 - K5 Paraprofessional&lt;br /&gt;5 - Teacher -- 1st, 2nd, 4th, 5th grades -- hoping to get back to kindergarten one day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I Tag:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cassie, Jamie, Lyndi&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-187660574586433360?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/187660574586433360/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=187660574586433360&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/187660574586433360'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/187660574586433360'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/06/blog-tag.html' title='BLOG TAG!'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-3355844969319154180</id><published>2008-05-29T22:41:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T03:43:22.949-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Am I the Only One This Happens To???</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;***** UPDATE*****&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SD9q02lxawI/AAAAAAAAALQ/PZDAIGr4lMY/s1600-h/no_ketchup.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5205997150503267074" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SD9q02lxawI/AAAAAAAAALQ/PZDAIGr4lMY/s200/no_ketchup.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Ordered a tray of Chick-fil-a nuggets for #1's birthday party tonite.  Just got a call...they're out of nuggets, will strips be okay instead?  Geesh...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to Zaxby's for dinner tonight, and they were out of &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;KETCHUP&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;! How does a fast-food chicken-finger place run out of ketchup??? I've also had these weird experiences:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--- Olan Mills ran out of film&lt;br /&gt;--- Hardee's ran out of cheeseburgers&lt;br /&gt;--- Chili's ran out of salad dressing&lt;br /&gt;--- Movie theater ran out of Coke&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anybody else have experiences like this???&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-3355844969319154180?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/3355844969319154180/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=3355844969319154180&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/3355844969319154180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/3355844969319154180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/05/am-i-only-one-this-happens-to.html' title='Am I the Only One This Happens To???'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SD9q02lxawI/AAAAAAAAALQ/PZDAIGr4lMY/s72-c/no_ketchup.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-8496245565136507565</id><published>2008-05-23T19:52:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-23T19:57:20.398-04:00</updated><title type='text'>IT'S OVER!!!</title><content type='html'>Today, Friday, I...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Went to one 5&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; grade graduation ceremony&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sent my kids home for the summer with a hug and a smile&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Attended one teacher appreciation luncheon where I won a spectacular manicure set  :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;FINISHED ANOTHER SCHOOL YEAR!!!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;Tomorrow, Saturday, I'll sleep late and hang out by the pool.  Just a prelude to what summer is going to hold for me...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-8496245565136507565?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/8496245565136507565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=8496245565136507565&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/8496245565136507565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/8496245565136507565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/05/its-over.html' title='IT&apos;S OVER!!!'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-6216644866210186040</id><published>2008-05-22T18:55:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-22T18:59:19.677-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Almost There...</title><content type='html'>Today, Thursday, I...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Had 18 kids clean out their desks and clean up my room&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ate my last school lunch with kids for the year&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sent 18 kids on a scavenger hunt for our end-of-the-year party&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Received a bulletin board loaded with gift certificates to some of my FAVORITE places from my class&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Shed a tear at the prospect of this class leaving - really...they're a fun bunch of kids&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Went to recess - twice :-)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;1/2 day to go!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-6216644866210186040?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/6216644866210186040/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=6216644866210186040&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/6216644866210186040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/6216644866210186040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/05/almost-there.html' title='Almost There...'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-6974906237809018946</id><published>2008-05-21T23:01:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-21T23:06:58.738-04:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Still On...</title><content type='html'>Today, Wednesday, I...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Graded my last sets of papers for the year!!!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Filled in honor roll, attendance, and attribute awards for each of my students&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Enjoyed a picnic lunch with BOTH of my girls - &lt;a href="http://catchingupwithcassie.blogspot.com/2008/05/finally.html"&gt;thanks#1&lt;/a&gt;!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Said goodbye to 5th grade&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Felt stressed for a large part of the day&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Put together 18 picture frames for a craft activity tomorrow &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Finished my scavenger hunt list for our class party&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Stayed up way too late to have to get up way too early in the morning&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;1 1/2 days left!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-6974906237809018946?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/6974906237809018946/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=6974906237809018946&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/6974906237809018946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/6974906237809018946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/05/its-still-on.html' title='It&apos;s Still On...'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-2317791929731834</id><published>2008-05-20T17:07:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-20T17:20:35.313-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Countdown Continues...</title><content type='html'>Today, Tuesday, I...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Wore jeans to school!!! :-)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Let my homeroom give #1 a wake-up call to make sure she didn't miss her 10:00 exam&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Took my class to Spanish for the last time this year&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Got writing portfolios for all three classes completely up-to-date&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sent kids for their last AR test of the year&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Had a moment of bliss as I listened to fifth graders quietly singing "You Are My King" while they were coloring at the end of class...very sweet indeed!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Brought my lunch to school for the last time this year&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Gave my last test to fourth grade - even got them graded, recorded, AND posted on the same day :-)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Gave address books to two sweet girls who are moving to NC this summer - I'll miss you L &amp;amp; L!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;2 1/2 days to go!!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-2317791929731834?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/2317791929731834/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=2317791929731834&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/2317791929731834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/2317791929731834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/05/countdown-continues.html' title='The Countdown Continues...'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-8057112018023352301</id><published>2008-05-19T19:26:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-20T17:19:29.295-04:00</updated><title type='text'>IT'S THE LAST WEEK OF SCHOOL...And the countdown is on!!</title><content type='html'>Today, Monday, I...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Wore my khaki pants &amp;amp; uniform shirt for the last time for at LEAST three months&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sent students to the library for new AR books for the last time this year&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sent my kids to the computer lab for the last time this year&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Turned down baked chicken &amp;amp; a baked potato for lunch for the last time for at least this year&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Taught my last English lesson to 4th grade until who knows when&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Taught my last English lesson to 5th grade for FOREVER hopefully&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Only 3 1/2 days left to go!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-8057112018023352301?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/8057112018023352301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=8057112018023352301&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/8057112018023352301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/8057112018023352301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/05/its-last-week-of-schooland-countdown-is.html' title='IT&apos;S THE LAST WEEK OF SCHOOL...And the countdown is on!!'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-593691140000703644</id><published>2008-05-11T20:16:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T03:43:22.994-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Mother's Day!</title><content type='html'>Today was a very relaxing Mother's Day.  It started out with my hubby letting me sleep in 'til 10:00.  That was a much needed treat!  Clint had brought home flowers, my sweet girls had made cards,  and they have ordered me one of &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWuHfTAkRic/SAK36_Edb6I/AAAAAAAACfM/dWV4rYQa-D8/s1600-h/IMG_8409.jpg"&gt;these&lt;/a&gt;.  We then met both sets of parents at Blackbeard's (my mom's request) for lunch.  After having our fill of seafood and barbeque (who ever thought to put those two together, anyway?), we headed off to the RiverQuarium.  My parents and Clint's dad had never been before, so it was fun to look at everything through "new" eyes.  We saw the divers in the Blue Hole for the first time, along with the new "Catfish Planet" exhibit (not my favorite).  Then it was to TwoScoops for some gelato and cheesecake.  Back home, Clint settled in for a nap, #2 watched some Indiana Jones, and #1 and I slipped off for a little shopping.  Now it's back to reading tests and lesson plans, with a little Survivor finale mixed in there somewhere.  The relaxation was nice while it lasted - thanks to my family for a nice day!!  :-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-593691140000703644?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/593691140000703644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=593691140000703644&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/593691140000703644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/593691140000703644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/05/happy-mothers-day.html' title='Happy Mother&apos;s Day!'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-8740792043697701942</id><published>2008-05-05T20:47:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-05T20:52:40.957-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Balancing Act</title><content type='html'>She's a believer, a daughter, a sister, a friend, a girlfriend, a missionary, a volleyball player, a basketball player, a runner, a Potter fanatic, a McConaughey fan, a music lover, a computer nerd, a doodler, a babysitter, a blogger, a Webkinz addict, a dishwasher...oh, did I mention she also had the 2nd highest GPA for the junior class?  How does she do it all?&lt;br /&gt;Way to go, #1.  I couldn't be more proud!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-8740792043697701942?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/8740792043697701942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=8740792043697701942&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/8740792043697701942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/8740792043697701942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/05/balancing-act.html' title='Balancing Act'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-3017552539639908432</id><published>2008-05-02T22:08:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T03:43:23.040-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I SCORED!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SBvOBHKZymI/AAAAAAAAAJg/l3gmaKI6L-I/s1600-h/soccer+mom.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Another soccer season is about to come to a close. Tomorrow morning our girls play in a tournament to wind up the season. Tonight was the final practice. And coach had a great idea. "Soccer moms" vs. the girls. We had to mirror our daughter's positions, which meant that I played in the middle of the field and had to do a lot of running. (Tammi - you're probably already laughing, but the answer is, no, I didn't!) We held our own pretty well for a while - of course, we might not have played by all of the rules. Hubby heard one mom yell to her daughter, "If you score, that's a chore!" #2 scored the first goal for the girls, something she has waited on all season. Sweet victory for her. But then... so did I. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#993399;"&gt;YEA ME!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; A goal for mom in her soccer debut. However, I know how to quit while I'm ahead. After all, I didn't want to be the ball hog Tammi has mentioned in another post. I wanted another mom to have a chance for her moment of glory. In the end, the girls won 3-2. Fun game. Just hope I can get out of bed to watch her play in the morning.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-3017552539639908432?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/3017552539639908432/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=3017552539639908432&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/3017552539639908432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/3017552539639908432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/05/i-scored.html' title='I SCORED!!!'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-4793970936583242475</id><published>2008-04-25T17:59:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T03:43:23.440-05:00</updated><title type='text'>This One's for You, Lyndi!  **Proofreading Accomplished**</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SBJXkXKZylI/AAAAAAAAAJY/zSlYPJkbxmE/s1600-h/lyndi.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193309602516159058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SBJXkXKZylI/AAAAAAAAAJY/zSlYPJkbxmE/s200/lyndi.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My cousin, &lt;a href="http://thesoles.blogspot.com/"&gt;Lyndi&lt;/a&gt;, is anxiously awaiting the arrival of her first baby. After being on bed rest for several weeks now, she's starting to get a little stir-crazy. She's waited a long time for this little boy to get here - much longer than 9 months. And she's going to be a FANTASTIC mom!! Let's cheer her up with some love in the comment section - a joke, a verse, a word of enccouragement. If you don't know Lyndi, she's full of life, has a huge heart, and is a joy to those who know her. So whether you're family, a friend, or a complete stranger, let's put a smile on her face today!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-4793970936583242475?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/4793970936583242475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=4793970936583242475&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/4793970936583242475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/4793970936583242475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/04/this-ones-for-you-lyndi.html' title='This One&apos;s for You, Lyndi!  **Proofreading Accomplished**'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SBJXkXKZylI/AAAAAAAAAJY/zSlYPJkbxmE/s72-c/lyndi.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-1640201024170025162</id><published>2008-04-25T13:34:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T03:43:23.549-05:00</updated><title type='text'>America's Next Top Model</title><content type='html'>Okay, so maybe she doesn't have ambitions to hit the NY runways, but she had fun with her first "photo shoot" courtesy of Tammi's &lt;a href="http://tamminowackphotography.blogspot.com/2008/04/in-search-of-fresh-senior-faces.html"&gt;Fresh Faces &lt;/a&gt;Campaign. Here's one I stole from the &lt;a href="http://tamminowackphotography.blogspot.com/"&gt;photoblog&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SBIXFnKZykI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/vOIJ8xcbaSQ/s1600-h/Fresh+Faces.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193238705491003970" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SBIXFnKZykI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/vOIJ8xcbaSQ/s400/Fresh+Faces.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/6402328001941539388-1640201024170025162?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/1640201024170025162/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=1640201024170025162&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/1640201024170025162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/1640201024170025162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/04/americas-next-top-model.html' title='America&apos;s Next Top Model'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SBIXFnKZykI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/vOIJ8xcbaSQ/s72-c/Fresh+Faces.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-3602104923958172906</id><published>2008-04-22T19:47:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-22T21:46:34.670-04:00</updated><title type='text'>As If You Really Care...</title><content type='html'>Saw this on a &lt;a href="http://http//dreamingbigdreams.wordpress.com/"&gt;blog&lt;/a&gt; I really enjoy.  Did it for some therapy.  Hope you enjoy!  Try it for yourself, &lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;I'll read!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I crave: Mt. Dew, daily&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I search: For truth&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder: What my girls will grow up to be&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I regret: Having a poetry recitation contest in my classes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love: Sitting on the beach with a good book&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ache: For those around me who have been betrayed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I care: How my girls' days went&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always: Put on flip flops and jeans or sweats when I get home&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not: Organized, no matter what anyone says (although I want &lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;desperately&lt;/span&gt; to be organized)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe: The children are our future... teach them well and let them lead the way... show them all the beauty they possess inside... give them a sense of pride to make it easier... let the children's laughter remind us how we used to be... everybody searching for a hero... people need someone to look up to... I never found anyone to fulfill my needs... A lonely place to be so I learned to depend on me... I decided long ago, never to walk in anyone's shadows... If I fail, if I succeed... at least I live as I believe... no matter what they take from me, they can't take away my dignity.. because the greatest love of all is happening to me... I found the greatest love of all inside of me... the greatest love of all is easy to achieve... learning to love yourself, it is the greatest love of all.. [Repeat Chorus] ... and if by chance, that special place that you've been dreaming of... leads you to a lonely place... find your strength in love... (Courtesy of Whitney Houston)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dance: And my family laughs...why do you think that is???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sing: Oh, dear Jesus, how I WISH I could sing!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cry: Often, and easily&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t always: Finish the laundry I started that day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fight: The urge to eat peanut M&amp;amp;Ms, Reese's cups, KitKat bars, and birthday cake ice cream&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(I'm about to give in to the ice cream tonight, though!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I write: Crooked on the board at school&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I win: Or I'm unhappy &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lose: More than I like to admit&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never: Get up the first time my alarm clock goes off&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I confuse: Clint when I talk about the Amy's or the Jill's&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I listen:  To my Passion CD's when I'm having a bad day at school&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can usually be found: On the soccer field, lately&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am scared: Of facing my e-mail at school tomorrow - UGH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need: A nap&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am happy about: Having the day off Friday :-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-3602104923958172906?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/3602104923958172906/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=3602104923958172906&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/3602104923958172906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/3602104923958172906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/04/as-if-you-really-care.html' title='As If You Really Care...'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-3791370377890962513</id><published>2008-04-20T18:20:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T03:43:23.661-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Catch Her if You Can</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SAvDaFWDE_I/AAAAAAAAAJI/Ul2hm32P0yI/s1600-h/cassie+001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191457848353297394" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SAvDaFWDE_I/AAAAAAAAAJI/Ul2hm32P0yI/s320/cassie+001.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; #1 had a track meet the other day and ended up placing 2nd in the region in two of her three races -- the 400m and the 4x400m relay.  She's worked super hard in practice this year and improved her times considerably. They have the state meet here next weekend, so hopefully she'll do just as well then.  Go Eagles! &lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-3791370377890962513?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/3791370377890962513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=3791370377890962513&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/3791370377890962513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/3791370377890962513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/04/catch-her-if-you-can.html' title='Catch Her if You Can'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SAvDaFWDE_I/AAAAAAAAAJI/Ul2hm32P0yI/s72-c/cassie+001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-4942616813031692550</id><published>2008-04-18T23:08:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T03:43:23.746-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Pretty Girl...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SAllhKJ5v6I/AAAAAAAAAJA/qEjAOtuh5W8/s1600-h/prom+1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190791665857183650" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SAllhKJ5v6I/AAAAAAAAAJA/qEjAOtuh5W8/s320/prom+1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dress. Shoes. Jewelry. Nails. Makeup. Dinner. Limo. What girl wouldn't want to go to prom??? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;#1 went to hers tonight. Our school doesn't sponsor any dances, so this year's prom was a bit unusual. They "bused" all the kids to Atlanta... first to a hotel for dressing, catered dinner, and pictures...then to an off-Broadway production of the Lion King...and finally back to Albany. I am so bummed that I did not get to see her all dressed up tonight, but I can't wait until she gets home to see pictures and hear all about it! Here's one she sent me via cell phone. More as soon as I can get them from her!&lt;/div&gt;&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/6402328001941539388-4942616813031692550?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/4942616813031692550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=4942616813031692550&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/4942616813031692550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/4942616813031692550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/04/pretty-girl.html' title='Pretty Girl...'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/SAllhKJ5v6I/AAAAAAAAAJA/qEjAOtuh5W8/s72-c/prom+1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-5874920470426855351</id><published>2008-03-05T21:30:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T21:52:15.607-05:00</updated><title type='text'>FUNNY THING HAPPENED THE OTHER DAY</title><content type='html'>To make a short story long...&lt;br /&gt;Came home from school the other day to find husband's jeep bogged down in about three feet of &lt;a href="http://possessionslave.wordpress.com/2008/03/03/stoo-ped/"&gt;mud&lt;/a&gt; in our backyard.  Husband was nowhere to be found.  His cell phone and laptop were on the kitchen counter.  So...&lt;br /&gt;I went back out to the mudpit with my cell phone to make a couple of quick pics, which I then sent to a few friends who I knew would get a chuckle.  Clint stuck in the mud.  Haha.  One of the recipients was supposed to be my cousin Matt.  Here's how the conversation followed:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Matt":    haha.  Whose is that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:   Clint.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Matt":   Clint who?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:    Clint N***es&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Matt":   Clint N***es...is that who I'm speaking to, as well?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me (getting a little irritated with my "cousin" at this point):   Clint's jeep.  Amy on the phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Matt":   Amy...do I know you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:    Think I may have the wrong #.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Matt":    This is "T".  Who were you trying to text?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***Need to know - "T" has a very unusual name.  One that you wouldn't forget even, say, 10 years later.***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:    That wouldn't be "T" Wilson by any chance?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Matt"/"T":   Yes...DO I KNOW YOU?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me (laughing):   Yes, as a matter of fact you do.  I taught you in first grade, 11 years ago at Sherwood Acres.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Matt"/"T":    No way...Mrs. N***es!!  That's hilarious!  How have you been?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, we continued texting for the next half hour or so.  He was one of my first grade students, the very first year I taught.  He's graduating from high school this year.  He and my daughter #1 are friends through a mutual friend.  He apparently has my cousin's old cell phone number.  (Or else, I never had Matt's correct # in the first place.)  What are the odds?  It's it a small, small, world.  I smile now everytime I think of this conversation.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-5874920470426855351?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/5874920470426855351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=5874920470426855351&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/5874920470426855351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/5874920470426855351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/03/funny-thing-happened-other-day.html' title='FUNNY THING HAPPENED THE OTHER DAY'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-6816140999353163313</id><published>2008-02-17T21:43:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T03:43:23.856-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Guess I Deserved This</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/R7jzkMhAcfI/AAAAAAAAAII/Warq5Rek9B4/s1600-h/rock+star.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168148375568151026" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/R7jzkMhAcfI/AAAAAAAAAII/Warq5Rek9B4/s320/rock+star.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;After a recent comment on a friend's blog about a certain likeness for guys with long hair, I shouldn't be surprised...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;#2 had earned some money this weekend pulling weeds for my mom, and couldn't wait to go to Claire's to spend it. She was dreaming of a Gabriella (&lt;a href="http://tv.disney.go.com/disneychannel/originalmovies/highschoolmusical/"&gt;High School Musical&lt;/a&gt;) wig. Who wouldn't want to have a head full of long, dark curls?? Well, this morning Hubby decided to try it on. The scary part was that he didn't take it off. He sat in the recliner checking out blogs with it on. He went out in the front yard with it on. I'm thinking that if Riley gets a &lt;a href="http://tv.disney.go.com/disneychannel/hannahmontana/"&gt;Hannah Montana&lt;/a&gt; wig, we can dress him up as Kid Rock for Halloween!!&lt;/div&gt;&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/6402328001941539388-6816140999353163313?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/6816140999353163313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=6816140999353163313&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/6816140999353163313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/6816140999353163313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/02/guess-i-deserved-this.html' title='Guess I Deserved This'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/R7jzkMhAcfI/AAAAAAAAAII/Warq5Rek9B4/s72-c/rock+star.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-7736053365660756193</id><published>2008-01-06T14:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-06T15:08:25.230-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Lyndi, Jamie, MaryLynn, Tammi - This One's For You!</title><content type='html'>Stumbled across this great &lt;a href="http://www.mymomshops.blogspot.com/"&gt;website&lt;/a&gt; yesterday, and thought you might want to check it out. She's a "New York City mom of two (and fanatic online shopper) finds cute and clever stuff for moms and tots." Some of her finds are a bit pricey, many are eco-friendly, but all are super cute! Check out the deals and give-aways that she has periodically. ALMOST enough to make me want another little one... nah, I'll just spoil some of your kids instead! I definitely think there's one of &lt;a href="http://www.bungalow360.com/Boutiques/Love_Always.html"&gt;these&lt;/a&gt; in a daughter's very near future! Happy shopping!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-7736053365660756193?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/7736053365660756193/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=7736053365660756193&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/7736053365660756193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/7736053365660756193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2008/01/lyndi-jamie-marylynn-tammi-this-ones.html' title='Lyndi, Jamie, MaryLynn, Tammi - This One&apos;s For You!'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-7478852554628670749</id><published>2007-12-30T14:11:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T03:43:24.077-05:00</updated><title type='text'>SHE'S 10 TODAY!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/R3fvf8jyKKI/AAAAAAAAAGc/JMTfwVCWbE0/s1600-h/Dress+up!+013.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5149848031032649890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/R3fvf8jyKKI/AAAAAAAAAGc/JMTfwVCWbE0/s320/Dress+up!+013.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Happy Birthday, Riley!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Mom loves you!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-7478852554628670749?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/7478852554628670749/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=7478852554628670749&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/7478852554628670749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/7478852554628670749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2007/12/shes-10-today.html' title='SHE&apos;S 10 TODAY!!!'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/R3fvf8jyKKI/AAAAAAAAAGc/JMTfwVCWbE0/s72-c/Dress+up!+013.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-3877993733926354360</id><published>2007-12-30T14:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-30T14:18:16.212-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>If you wanna see our Christmas pictures, go &lt;a href="http://www.nobles4.shutterfly.com/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.  (Click "View Pictures" then choose the slideshow option.)&lt;br /&gt;We had a wonderful Christmas - fun gifts, delicious food, and lots of time with family and friends! Hope you did the same!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-3877993733926354360?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/3877993733926354360/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=3877993733926354360&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/3877993733926354360'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/3877993733926354360'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2007/12/if-you-wanna-see-our-christmas-pictures.html' title=''/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-4756366747932808323</id><published>2007-12-24T23:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T03:43:24.182-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:180%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;MERRY CHRISTMAS&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;to all our family &amp;amp; friends!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5147756858700867714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/R3CBlsjyKII/AAAAAAAAAE0/3Pi_RcPA_UI/s320/christmas+collage1.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;We hope you have a blessed holiday!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-4756366747932808323?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/4756366747932808323/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=4756366747932808323&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/4756366747932808323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/4756366747932808323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2007/12/merry-christmas-to-all-our-family.html' title=''/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/R3CBlsjyKII/AAAAAAAAAE0/3Pi_RcPA_UI/s72-c/christmas+collage1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-5751387796979956080</id><published>2007-12-21T15:14:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-21T15:27:30.916-05:00</updated><title type='text'>GIRLS' NIGHT IN</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.peoriadefense.com/photo_host/BuildingaBetterCorn.PopcornThatis_C73D/popcorn.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://www.peoriadefense.com/photo_host/BuildingaBetterCorn.PopcornThatis_C73D/popcorn.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm in the mood for a movie night. A good chic-flick. Some popcorn. A cozy blanket and a fire. Staying up way too late, just because I can. Anybody want to join me???&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-5751387796979956080?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/5751387796979956080/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=5751387796979956080&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/5751387796979956080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/5751387796979956080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2007/12/girls-night-in.html' title='GIRLS&apos; NIGHT IN'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-2984667034405495690</id><published>2007-12-21T15:14:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-21T15:22:44.754-05:00</updated><title type='text'>CAN YOU DO THAT?</title><content type='html'>I just watched #2 &lt;a href="http://smiley-says.blogspot.com/2007/08/my-amazing-talent.html"&gt;pogo&lt;/a&gt; all the way to the mailbox (from the carport) and back.  She only fell once.  I guess it's hard to hold the mail, pogo, and close the mailbox all at once.  I'd wet my pants if I tried to do that...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-2984667034405495690?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/2984667034405495690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=2984667034405495690&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/2984667034405495690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/2984667034405495690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2007/12/can-you-do-that.html' title='CAN YOU DO THAT?'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-1212608469503813494</id><published>2007-12-16T00:42:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-16T00:50:28.584-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Basketball Christmas Party</title><content type='html'>17 hamburgers&lt;br /&gt;+  24 hot dogs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;+  a &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;RAGING&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; fire on the grill = &lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4 large pizza's + wings from Domino's&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hehe...Merry Christmas, Nosmack! :-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-1212608469503813494?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/1212608469503813494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=1212608469503813494&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/1212608469503813494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/1212608469503813494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2007/12/basketball-christmas-party.html' title='Basketball Christmas Party'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-7900818179525602746</id><published>2007-12-06T22:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-06T22:53:16.205-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I think &lt;a href="http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2007/08/sick.html"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; is about to be me again...ugh...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-7900818179525602746?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/7900818179525602746/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=7900818179525602746&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/7900818179525602746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/7900818179525602746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2007/12/i-think-this-is-about-to-be-me-again.html' title=''/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-1365378486441166627</id><published>2007-12-06T22:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T03:43:24.593-05:00</updated><title type='text'>#2</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;She talks with food in her mouth.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;She currently has a shark fetish&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And a fascination with pirates.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;She can't wait to come home and jump on the trampoline after school every day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;She LOVES anything that barks.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;She sings, "No, no, no, don't fall in the hole..." (you know, by the Black Eyed Peas).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;She watches Dirty Jobs with her dad.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;She grumbles the entire time she is emptying the trash cans on Wednesday nights.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think she has a secret crush on N**k (shhh...I'm not supposed to know that).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;She snacks on carrots &amp;amp; ranch dip&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And bananas.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;She drinks my hot chocolate in the mornings.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;She has a serious case of bed head&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When she finally gets up after I've been in three times to wake her up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;She doesn't go to sleep until Cassie kisses her goodnight.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;She has read &lt;em&gt;Sharkman&lt;/em&gt; cover to cover at least three times&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;THIS WEEK.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When she watches "Drake and Josh"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;You can hear her laugh (cackle) all through the house.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;She knows exactly what she wants to get me for Christmas&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;If she can just get a ride to Walmart &amp;amp; 25 bucks.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;She makes all A's in school.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;She can sing the names of the Presidents in order.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;She asked for a suitcase (???) for Christmas.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;She'd rather NOT brush her teeth in the mornings.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Somedays she drives me CRAZY.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then some nights she leaves notes like this on my pillow.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/R1i-sHlcuWI/AAAAAAAAAEc/CdrYdT-gsNs/s1600-h/my+mom+rocks.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141068639803062626" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/R1i-sHlcuWI/AAAAAAAAAEc/CdrYdT-gsNs/s400/my+mom+rocks.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(In case you can't read it, it says, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"MY MOM ROCKS".)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She's so cool...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/R1i-sHlcuWI/AAAAAAAAAEc/CdrYdT-gsNs/s1600-h/my+mom+rocks.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/R1i-sHlcuWI/AAAAAAAAAEc/CdrYdT-gsNs/s1600-h/my+mom+rocks.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/R1i-sHlcuWI/AAAAAAAAAEc/CdrYdT-gsNs/s1600-h/my+mom+rocks.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/R1i-sHlcuWI/AAAAAAAAAEc/CdrYdT-gsNs/s1600-h/my+mom+rocks.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/R1i-sHlcuWI/AAAAAAAAAEc/CdrYdT-gsNs/s1600-h/my+mom+rocks.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/R1i-sHlcuWI/AAAAAAAAAEc/CdrYdT-gsNs/s1600-h/my+mom+rocks.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&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/6402328001941539388-1365378486441166627?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/1365378486441166627/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=1365378486441166627&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/1365378486441166627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/1365378486441166627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2007/12/2.html' title='#2'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/R1i-sHlcuWI/AAAAAAAAAEc/CdrYdT-gsNs/s72-c/my+mom+rocks.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-5109304198645308836</id><published>2007-11-04T01:07:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-11-04T01:21:33.245-04:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Been a While...</title><content type='html'>...so &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;just in case you were wondering&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, here's what I've been up to since my last post:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;survived fall soccer&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;got a cool new Ipod&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;went trick-or-treating&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;read through book #4, and started on #5&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;directed a fourth grade play, twice&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;watched Riley catch her first fish&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;laughed at her sister trying to fish and text at the same time&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;turned 35&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;started buying Caramel Apple Spice drinks from Starbuck's again - yum!!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Here's what I'll be doing next time you see me:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;going to basketball games&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;learning to put my own music on that cool new Ipod&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;watching Grey's, season #3&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;taking Christmas orders for stationery (Casey, you know you need some...)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;counting the days until Thanksgiving break&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;attending at least three shows of &lt;em&gt;Cinderella&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;And here's what I probably still won't have done next time you see me:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;finished book #5&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;changed my door at school (it's the same one I've had up since August - my neighbor across the hall just put up her 5th one...AL, can you guess who?)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;eaten all of the Halloween candy&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;added another post&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-5109304198645308836?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/5109304198645308836/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=5109304198645308836&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/5109304198645308836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/5109304198645308836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2007/11/its-been-while.html' title='It&apos;s Been a While...'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-8171977642426131062</id><published>2007-10-06T22:23:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T03:43:24.791-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What's Wrong With This Picture???</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/RwhIBDi-zjI/AAAAAAAAAEU/oKDtnU0tfWg/s1600-h/question+mark.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5118420159475666482" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/RwhIBDi-zjI/AAAAAAAAAEU/oKDtnU0tfWg/s400/question+mark.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Those who know me well know that I'm not terribly choosy about the television shows that I will watch. Last year, I got into a series called &lt;a href="http://www.nbc.com/Friday_Night_Lights/"&gt;Friday Night Lights&lt;/a&gt;, about a football team in Texas. Although I am not a fan of football itself, the show had all the right elements for me - some action, drama, occasional comedy, and several love interests. I had been anxiously awaiting the series premiere which came on last night. This coincided with a surprise birthday party for a friend - HAPPY BIRTHDAY, RUSTY!! No problem - the DVR was already set to record. I'm sitting on the couch reading today when Clint reminds me that we have that first episode to watch. Excitedly, I tell him that I'm almost at the end of my chapter. A few pages later, I put my book down and am pumped about finally watching Friday Night Lights (a show about &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;football&lt;/span&gt;, I say again). He says..."Hold on, &lt;a href="http://www.cwtv.com/shows/americas-next-top-model"&gt;America's Next Top Model&lt;/a&gt; is almost over. I gotta see the end."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-8171977642426131062?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/8171977642426131062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=8171977642426131062&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/8171977642426131062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/8171977642426131062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2007/10/whats-wrong-with-this-picture.html' title='What&apos;s Wrong With This Picture???'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/RwhIBDi-zjI/AAAAAAAAAEU/oKDtnU0tfWg/s72-c/question+mark.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-1174977867893174888</id><published>2007-09-26T21:54:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T03:43:24.935-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/RvsOLDi-zgI/AAAAAAAAAD8/TBmPVl3WOL4/s1600-h/ToothFairy1.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5114697384902708738" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/RvsOLDi-zgI/AAAAAAAAAD8/TBmPVl3WOL4/s200/ToothFairy1.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The laundry&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;fairy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;STILL&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;hasn't&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;shown up...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&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/6402328001941539388-1174977867893174888?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/1174977867893174888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=1174977867893174888&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/1174977867893174888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/1174977867893174888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2007/09/laundry-fairy-still-hasnt-shown-up.html' title=''/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/RvsOLDi-zgI/AAAAAAAAAD8/TBmPVl3WOL4/s72-c/ToothFairy1.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-4909758153171558231</id><published>2007-09-22T21:09:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-22T21:40:48.830-04:00</updated><title type='text'>THINGS I'D LIKE TO DO TOMORROW</title><content type='html'>Sleep late...go out for breakfast...get a pedicure...start book #3...discover that the laundry fairy put all the clean clothes away...talk a walk...on the beach!...watch (another) Matthew McConaughey movie...visit Zac or Tyler or Bryan...go to GapKids...visit a SuperTarget with an escalator to the 4th floor (thanks, Hannah!)...finish the Disney scrapbook...eat a cinnamon crunch bagel from Panera...with the cream cheese spread...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What will I do tomorrow???&lt;br /&gt;Sleep late...cook breakfast...maybe watch a movie...grade the five sets of reading &amp;amp; English tests I brought home...go to the Gathering...go to bed...start another week...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a vicious cycle...vicious, I tell you!  ;-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-4909758153171558231?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/4909758153171558231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=4909758153171558231&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/4909758153171558231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/4909758153171558231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2007/09/things-id-like-to-do-tomorrow.html' title='THINGS I&apos;D LIKE TO DO TOMORROW'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-1544325802241446204</id><published>2007-09-22T21:09:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T03:43:25.085-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Little Goes a Long Way...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;With approximately $90 worth of steak, chicken, rice, and vegetables from &lt;a href="http://thehibachiexpress.com/"&gt;Hibachi&lt;/a&gt;, you can...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Feed six teenagers before a homecoming dance&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Feed two parents who are hosting the dinner&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Make chicken-fried rice for a family of three &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Make a mean steak &amp;amp; cheese sandwich for a hungry carpenter&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Make one Jack Russell terrier very happy! &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5113202255247363538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/RvW-XDi-zdI/AAAAAAAAADk/l10zbMAXdeg/s200/HoMeCoMiNg+005.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-1544325802241446204?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/1544325802241446204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=1544325802241446204&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/1544325802241446204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/1544325802241446204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2007/09/little-goes-long-way.html' title='A Little Goes a Long Way...'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/RvW-XDi-zdI/AAAAAAAAADk/l10zbMAXdeg/s72-c/HoMeCoMiNg+005.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-1648761117381193017</id><published>2007-09-22T20:01:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T03:43:25.267-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Lessons from a Soccer Mom</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/RvW2qji-zcI/AAAAAAAAADc/zHs0hos4Qp0/s1600-h/SoccerBall.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5113193794161790402" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/RvW2qji-zcI/AAAAAAAAADc/zHs0hos4Qp0/s200/SoccerBall.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today was our first real soccer game of the season. Let's just say it was a &lt;strong&gt;TRAINWRECK! &lt;/strong&gt;Our team of 4th and 5th graders - some of whom have never played soccer before this year - was put up against a team of 6th &amp;amp; 7th graders who have supposedly played together since they were 3!! The "white team" had their stuff together. They knew their positions, played with strategy, and had superb teamwork. It was obvious they had been well-coached, and knew their game. The "red team" never stood a chance. I felt so bad for them. I've been thrown into situations before where I knew I was in over my head, where it was obvious I was unqualifed for the task. I know the discomfort and humiliation that follow.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This got me thinking...have I done enough "coaching" with my own girls? Have I taught them the skills they need to know for real life? Have I taught them "strategies" for living out there in the real world? I don't want my girls to just sit on the side lines and watch life pass them by. I want them in the game, living life to its fullest. But I want them to be prepared for whatever life throws their way. To quote the coach from the movie &lt;em&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/We_Are_Marshall"&gt;We Are Marshall&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;/em&gt;I want my girls to be ready to "play to the whistle." I think I've got some more coaching to do...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-1648761117381193017?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/1648761117381193017/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=1648761117381193017&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/1648761117381193017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/1648761117381193017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2007/09/lessons-from-soccer-mom.html' title='Lessons from a Soccer Mom'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/RvW2qji-zcI/AAAAAAAAADc/zHs0hos4Qp0/s72-c/SoccerBall.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-6292588922719673072</id><published>2007-09-13T22:33:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-13T22:39:34.507-04:00</updated><title type='text'>HIS Perfect Timing</title><content type='html'>On a day otherwise marked with sorrow, HE sent me a ray of sunshine.  After spending days trying to wrap my brain around a tragic situation, HE gave me hope.  Today, my friends Amy Lynn &amp; Daniel are at the hospital, anxiously awaiting the birth of their first baby boy.  That only puts a smile on my face.  I remember very well the joy, elation, excitement, and yes - fear - that they, too, are experiencing.  No tears there.  Just hope and joy!  Congratulations, Amy Lynn &amp;amp; Daniel - can't wait to meet your baby boy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-6292588922719673072?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/6292588922719673072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=6292588922719673072&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/6292588922719673072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/6292588922719673072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2007/09/his-perfect-timing.html' title='HIS Perfect Timing'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-4296354039964035622</id><published>2007-09-12T18:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T03:43:25.489-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sad</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/RuhyIbD7uKI/AAAAAAAAACk/ZPDazB0S4E8/s1600-h/heart.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109459266280601762" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/RuhyIbD7uKI/AAAAAAAAACk/ZPDazB0S4E8/s200/heart.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am sad today. I am emotionally spent. Drained. The friend that I referred to in my previous post will never have the opportunity to put the pieces of her "fairy tale" life back together again. She will never get to try to "work things out." They found her husband yesterday. He had taken his life. And left behind a beautiful wife, two daughters, and a son.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My relationship with this family goes back about 12 years. When Cassie started kindergarten, their oldest daughter was the first friend she made. And they have remained close through all these years, through the ebb and flows of friendship, they still call out to each other when one is in need. She and I were pregnant at the same time with our youngest children. I taught the middle child several years ago, and am teaching the youngest child now. While I can not say that I have ever been especially close with this friend, she was always someone to turn to for daughterly advice, someone to count on for help at school, or with social plans for our girls. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This just makes me sad. How desperate must someone get to see no way out? To feel no hope for forgiveness? To see this as the best option for their family? How can you &lt;strong&gt;choose&lt;/strong&gt; to leave your kids without a father? I don't how to help with this heartache. All I know to do is to say that I will forgive. I will not stand in judgement. I will not condemn. I will love. That's all I know to do for this family right now - to love. I loved on sad children all day long. Every hug, every "Will you pray with me, Mrs. Nobles?", every sad face was precious to me. I'd like the chance to love on you, too, if you need it. Or maybe even if you don't. And someday, I may need you to love on me too. After all, isn't that what Jesus would do?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Please pray for my friend, her family, and all of their friends who are hurting and loving on them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-4296354039964035622?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/4296354039964035622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=4296354039964035622&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/4296354039964035622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/4296354039964035622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2007/09/sad.html' title='Sad'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/RuhyIbD7uKI/AAAAAAAAACk/ZPDazB0S4E8/s72-c/heart.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-3396694209314735473</id><published>2007-09-10T01:02:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-10T02:10:18.040-04:00</updated><title type='text'>No, I'm not depressed...REALLY!</title><content type='html'>I hope that when you look at me, you think of words like... confused... disheveled... out-of-style... not well-spoken... lonely... tired... struggling... indecisive... selfish... annoying... inconsistent... forgetful... unmotivated...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because all of those words can describe some aspect of my life. (And no, I am not on, or do not need, any prescription medications.) I'm not feeling sorry for myself, &lt;strong&gt;at all&lt;/strong&gt;. I'm basically a happy person right now. I'm probably more at peace with my life, and with who I am, than I have been at any other time. &lt;strong&gt;CONTENT &lt;/strong&gt;truly describes me at this stage of my life.  But I hope that no one looks at me, and sees a facade. I want to be more transparent than that. Next time you ask me how I'm doing, I'm not going to reply with "good" if it's not the truth. I'm not going to smile when I feel like crying. I do have problems that I'm not sure how to solve, I do lose my temper, I do lose things never to find them again, I do try on three outfits and then say that I have nothing to wear, I do say things that I regret. I do not live a fairy tale life, and I hope that no one would ever think that I do. I live in the real world, surrounded by the same issues, temptations, and lies as the next person.  (And...as an added plus, I'm surrounded by children all day long!!!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've seen too many "fairy-tale" lives fall apart recently. I've seen too many people lately who seem to "have it all" lose it in an instant. I don't want to be one of those people.  I'll share my trash with you, and I want you to share yours with me.  I want to have REAL friends, who'll tell me if something is stuck in my teeth, or if my butt looks big in those jeans, or if I'm being utterly and ridiculously wrong about something.   And I'd like to be that same kind of friend to you.  I'm through striving for perfection.  It only wears me down.  So here I am, flaws and all, (do you hear the sigh of relief?) &lt;em&gt;and I'm loving it!!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend needs your prayers.  This week, my friend's "fairy-tale" life was turned upside down in one day, probably in one conversation.  ("Fairy-tale" being my own perception, not my friend's description.)  My heart is broken for my friend.  I can't go to sleep for thinking about my friend.  So, if I've misspelled words, or typed a sentence that makes no sense, go ahead and laugh at me.  I won't get my feelings hurt.  And, tomorrow, when I have bags under my eyes, and can't remember what I'm supposed to be doing, don't feel sorry for me, just say a prayer for my friend.  My contented life, with all its flaws, will continue as usual.  My friend, however, has to figure out how to put a life back together again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keeping it real, one day at a time...&lt;br /&gt;Love, Amy&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-3396694209314735473?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/3396694209314735473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=3396694209314735473&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/3396694209314735473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/3396694209314735473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2007/09/no-im-not-depressedreally.html' title='No, I&apos;m not depressed...REALLY!'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-1524699977442426102</id><published>2007-09-09T12:01:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T03:43:25.748-05:00</updated><title type='text'>WHY???</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/RuQdn-oc1KI/AAAAAAAAACc/C8mXgeRpcFY/s1600-h/cake.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108240450009748642" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/RuQdn-oc1KI/AAAAAAAAACc/C8mXgeRpcFY/s320/cake.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Yesterday, I went to a wedding for a co-worker. It took place on a golf course, and was nice for an outdoor wedding in early September in south Georgia (in other words...it was HOT!) During the reception, I was looking around watching all the guests eat cake, and began to wonder...why do you have two cakes at a wedding? You spend all this money on THE cake, and then have to have a groom's cake, too. Why? Does the groom really care so much that he has to have his own cake? I would think not. How did this tradition get started? What is the significance?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yes, we did have two cakes at our wedding. Clint had a chocolate armadillo cake...anyone watch &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Steel_magnolias"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;Steel Magnolias&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;??? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Drum: Ouiser, can we call a truce long enough for me to get a piece of cake?&lt;br /&gt;[Ouiser slices him the tail piece of an armadillo cake.]&lt;br /&gt;Drum: Thanks Ouiser, nothing like a good piece of ***! &lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-1524699977442426102?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/1524699977442426102/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=1524699977442426102&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/1524699977442426102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/1524699977442426102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2007/09/why.html' title='WHY???'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/RuQdn-oc1KI/AAAAAAAAACc/C8mXgeRpcFY/s72-c/cake.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-1961003030142211439</id><published>2007-09-03T22:46:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T03:43:25.888-05:00</updated><title type='text'>WALLY-WORLD</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/RtzKM-oc1II/AAAAAAAAACM/_xy1M5L-3Ww/s1600-h/pantry.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5106178401851200642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/RtzKM-oc1II/AAAAAAAAACM/_xy1M5L-3Ww/s320/pantry.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Let me preface this post by saying that I love to shop! I find shopping to be quite therapeutic, and can get quite giddy over a trip to Target. However, grocery shopping never falls into the shopping therapy category. Well, for a number of reasons, I haven't had the opportunity to do much shopping since about a week before school started. We were way past overdue for a real grocery store trip, and I knew it would be a "2-cart-er." Since Clint was at work, I forced Cassie to go with me. As hard as it is to believe, I was actually EXCITED about going to Wal-Mart...at lunchtime...on Saturday...before a holiday...and after a payday for many.  (That's sad!!!)  Even after the rain, the crowd, the long checkout line, and the outrageous total, I still had a smile on my face as we hauled bag after bag after bag up the steps and into the kitchen. It probably took the two of us thirty minutes to put everything away. And now I'm still smiling because my pantry is full - anybody want to come for dinner??? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-1961003030142211439?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/1961003030142211439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=1961003030142211439&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/1961003030142211439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/1961003030142211439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2007/09/let-me-preface-this-post-by-saying-that.html' title='WALLY-WORLD'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/RtzKM-oc1II/AAAAAAAAACM/_xy1M5L-3Ww/s72-c/pantry.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-5619298780402720844</id><published>2007-09-03T22:42:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-03T22:46:42.981-04:00</updated><title type='text'>PRAYER FOR BERNICE</title><content type='html'>Clint's grandmother was put into the hospital this weekend, after an apparent heart attack.  They were unable to put in a stint because of the location of the blockage.  Surgery is a possibility, but is somewhat risky because she is 80 years old and because of some other factors.  She is quite a spunky lady - she told the surgeon she would just "flip a coin" to decide what to do.  :-)  Please pray for wisdom for Bernice, and her children as they decide what route to take.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-5619298780402720844?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/5619298780402720844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=5619298780402720844&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/5619298780402720844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/5619298780402720844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2007/09/prayer-for-bernice.html' title='PRAYER FOR BERNICE'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-3161426806765530237</id><published>2007-08-28T21:18:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-28T21:31:51.905-04:00</updated><title type='text'>YOU'LL NEVER BELIEVE...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;what I did this weekend.  The Kendricks brothers from SBC have been at it again, and are preparing to shoot a new movie.  Auditions were held on Saturday, &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;and I went!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  And, yes, I even auditioned.  For a main role!  Now those of you who know me are probably thinking, "What was she thinking???"  From the first time I heard about the movie, I have felt that I was supposed to participate in this.  Never before have I had any ambitions of being a movie star, and I have no theatrical experience.  Thus...the audition was a flop.  Of that I am certain.  No call-backs for me.  But that's okay.  Maybe my purpose in auditioning was to make the next gal look really good!  And I am perfectly okay with that.  I'm certain there will be some way that I can be a part of the movie in a (much) smaller way.  There's always the need for extra's.  In the meantime, I have comfortably stepped back into my box, and have no plans to venture out anytime again soon...unless somebody's got a good idea for me?!?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-3161426806765530237?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/3161426806765530237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=3161426806765530237&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/3161426806765530237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/3161426806765530237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2007/08/youll-never-believe.html' title='YOU&apos;LL NEVER BELIEVE...'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-5630344300647698462</id><published>2007-08-21T21:44:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-21T22:08:03.089-04:00</updated><title type='text'>UPDATE</title><content type='html'>You know, from time to time Oprah and Montel do shows where they re-visit past guests and topics, to give viewers an update. So I decided to join the ranks of the talk show hosts and do that on my blog. Here's the latest...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hello? Is Ayone Out There - apparently, I'm still typing. I'm here as the long as the comments keep coming in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sleep Deprived - falling asleep at night is now no longer a problem. Instead, it's getting up on time that that's becoming a challenge. On Monday of this week, I overslept by almost an hour!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Confession is Good for the Soul - ummm, still an addict...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a Girls' Night In - when Clint was on duty last weekend, three friends and their girls came over for a &lt;em&gt;High School Musical 2&lt;/em&gt; premier pajama party. Fun times with the girls continue!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;America's Got Talent - and the winner is... &lt;a href="http://www.nbc.com/Americas_Got_Talent/video/#mea=143856"&gt;Terry Fator&lt;/a&gt;. He's an awesome impersonator / ventriloquist, and definitely worthy of winning the million (if anybody is worth $1,000,000 that is). Our pick, &lt;a href="http://www.nbc.com/Americas_Got_Talent/video/#mea=143871"&gt;Cas Haley&lt;/a&gt;, won 2nd place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Kid-Free Weekend &amp;amp; Back to Status Quo - we're down to just one kid most of the time. It seems like Cassie is always off with volleyball or the BF or somewhere. Oh, the life of a teenager!! At least we have Riley to keep us entertained!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;A Fond Farewell to Summer - School's back in full swing, complete with homework, lesson plans, phone calls from parents, and late nights grading papers. I did manage to squeak in some time to read a book in the pool this weekend though! :-)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Sick - all well now. 24 hours without any medicine. Praise the Lord!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-5630344300647698462?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/5630344300647698462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=5630344300647698462&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/5630344300647698462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/5630344300647698462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2007/08/update.html' title='UPDATE'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-3912596975440483423</id><published>2007-08-21T18:40:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T03:43:26.103-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I LOVE BIRTHDAYS!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/Rstt7-oc1HI/AAAAAAAAACE/nkvGaLGuSlk/s1600-h/cake.png"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5101291880119587954" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 178px" height="166" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/Rstt7-oc1HI/AAAAAAAAACE/nkvGaLGuSlk/s200/cake.png" width="208" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;August is a month jam-packed with birthdays in our family. We start with Cassie's at the beginning of the month, my mother-in-law's at the end, and a total of 9 cousins have birthdays somewhere there in the middle. It seems like every weekend we've been attending at least one birthday party. I haven't bought and wrapped so many presents in such a short period of time since Christmas! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Don't get me wrong - I love a birthday party!! I was disappointed that Cassie didn't want to celebrate with her friends this year. I love making the invitations, picking out the themes and decorations, planning the food, and all of the excitement that comes with it. I love singing "Happy Birthday" and watching the candles being blown out. I love to watch the gifts being opened and to see what everyone picked out.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I especially love MY birthday!! I love having a big fuss made over just me. Not because of any great accomplishment or achievement - simply because I'm here. I keep hinting that I want to have a real party to celebrate one of these years. Something like Putt-Putt or the bowling alley. Maybe I'll just plan it myself. I could keep it simple. Just close family and a few dozen friends. That wouldn't be too much to ask, would it?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, if I've missed you this month - HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! And just in case you're wondering...mine's only 59 days away, but then...who's counting???&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-3912596975440483423?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/3912596975440483423/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=3912596975440483423&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/3912596975440483423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/3912596975440483423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2007/08/i-love-birthdays.html' title='I LOVE BIRTHDAYS!'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/Rstt7-oc1HI/AAAAAAAAACE/nkvGaLGuSlk/s72-c/cake.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-635452233240736039</id><published>2007-08-11T22:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T03:43:26.414-05:00</updated><title type='text'>SICK</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/Rr5xsLkg7JI/AAAAAAAAAB8/XXHMJHECF0w/s1600-h/bobblehead1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5097636832064105618" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/Rr5xsLkg7JI/AAAAAAAAAB8/XXHMJHECF0w/s320/bobblehead1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I feel like one of those bobblehead toys. My head feels so heavy that sometimes I can't hold it up straight. Stuffed up. Runny nose. Ah-choo!! Box of Kleenex at my side constantly. Red nose. At least my throat doesn't hurt...anymore. Sleeping on the couch - again. Daytime cold medicine. Nighttime cold medicine. Nose spray. Stuffed up. Runny nose. How can I have both at the same time??? Makes no sense to me. Then again, I'm the same girl who can't hold her head up straight. It's okay. I'll feel better...in a week or two. :-)&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/6402328001941539388-635452233240736039?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/635452233240736039/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=635452233240736039&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/635452233240736039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/635452233240736039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2007/08/sick.html' title='SICK'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/Rr5xsLkg7JI/AAAAAAAAAB8/XXHMJHECF0w/s72-c/bobblehead1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-6503844458281965932</id><published>2007-08-05T16:22:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T03:43:26.513-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Fond Farewell to Summer</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/RrY1lrkg7II/AAAAAAAAAB0/96c6kBbzWQQ/s1600-h/sunset.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095318949883604098" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/RrY1lrkg7II/AAAAAAAAAB0/96c6kBbzWQQ/s200/sunset.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today is officially the last day of my summer. It has been a time to relax and take a break, and I have enjoyed it thoroughly. Here's what I will remember from this summer:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;A trip for two to Disney&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;A girls' beach trip to &lt;a href="http://www.beachview.com/st_george_is_640.htm"&gt;SGI&lt;/a&gt; with the Baker family - thanks, Penny, for the invite!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Starting my own blog, and stalking several others - thanks, friends, for the great reading material!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Many hours floating in the pool, reading many good books (that's what I'll miss the most)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Way too many turkey melt sandwiches&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;A cookout for 30 or so family and friends who supported my two missionaries to Peru&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Countless trips back and forth to the UC to and from volleyball practices (that's what I won't miss at all!!)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Thousands of Kinzcash dollars earned playing some fun games&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Lots of time just hanging out with Clint - rocking on the back porch, cruising in the Jeep, running into town on some errand or another, staying up late watching movies&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sleeping until 10:30 a.m. (OK, so that's that's what I'll miss the most)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Torturing Riley with Regis and Kelly episodes during breakfast&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;However, with all that said, I have a lot to look forward to as well. A new school year brings so many new opportunities - a new classroom, new subjects to teach, new ideas to try out, new school procedures and policies to try to follow (ugh!). Most of all, a brand new group of students to teach, to pull my hair out over, and to love. I'm thankful that God has placed me where I am, and that he has blessed me with the opportunity to mold these tender lives for the next 180 school days. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-6503844458281965932?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/6503844458281965932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=6503844458281965932&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/6503844458281965932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/6503844458281965932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2007/08/fond-farewell-to-summer.html' title='A Fond Farewell to Summer'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/RrY1lrkg7II/AAAAAAAAAB0/96c6kBbzWQQ/s72-c/sunset.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-6096105713221756200</id><published>2007-07-31T21:04:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-31T21:11:49.132-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Back to Status Quo</title><content type='html'>Get your dirty clothes up off the floor --- whose flip flops are in the middle of the living room? --- breakfast??? it's 12:30!!! --- turn that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;tv&lt;/span&gt; off --- no, you can't watch a movie --- did you finish that book yet? --- yes, you have to make your bed AND brush your teeth --- don't forget to put on sunscreen --- the dishwasher needs to be unloaded --- hurry, or you'll be late for practice ---&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yep, the girls are back home, and I'm glad!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-6096105713221756200?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/6096105713221756200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=6096105713221756200&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/6096105713221756200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/6096105713221756200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2007/07/back-to-status-quo.html' title='Back to Status Quo'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-8843132613451655309</id><published>2007-07-29T11:02:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-29T11:20:09.735-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Kid-Free Weekend!!!</title><content type='html'>The girls left Friday afternoon going to Tampa with Clint's parents.  We have the whole weekend to ourselves, and Clint actually doesn't have to work!!  It's been kind of quiet, but peaceful too.  Here's what we've been up to so far:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Cruising around town in a friend's jeep while the oil was being changed in my car&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Swimming (or rather floating) in the pool with no fear of being splashed&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A trip to Maggie-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Moo's&lt;/span&gt; for ice cream&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Book-buying splurge at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;BAM&lt;/span&gt;! where we ran into our friends the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Nowack's&lt;/span&gt; and got to see their precious new baby Tyler&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Tried out a new &lt;a href="http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/Easy-Hawaiian-Chicken-Packets/Detail.aspx"&gt;Hawaiian chicken recipe&lt;/a&gt; for dinner (it was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;delicioso&lt;/span&gt;!!)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Read in silence for hours on the couches&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Slept in until 10:00 a.m. this morning, with no real plans yet for the rest of the day&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;All was feeling wonderfully indulgent until Cassie called last night.  After telling us about the fun things they had seen and done at Busch Gardens, she happened to mention that they were currently stuck in mid-air on a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;skylift&lt;/span&gt; ride.  Several minutes later, Riley got on the phone.  I could hear the fear in her voice.  Before the end of the conversation, she was crying.  All I wanted to do was give my baby girl a big hug.  Yet she was 5 hours away, terrified, while I was reading blissfully on the couch.  Thankfully they called back about 20 minutes later, safely in the car on the way to get something to eat.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;All's&lt;/span&gt; well with the world again.  I know they'll have a great time during the rest of their stay, and Riley will have great story to tell all of her friends.  Meanwhile, I've got some more reading to do...while I float in the pool...with no fear of being splashed!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-8843132613451655309?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/8843132613451655309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=8843132613451655309&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/8843132613451655309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/8843132613451655309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2007/07/kid-free-weekend.html' title='Kid-Free Weekend!!!'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-5812058354441315126</id><published>2007-07-25T22:04:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T03:43:26.819-05:00</updated><title type='text'>America's Got Talent</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/RqgMRbkg7HI/AAAAAAAAABs/ympruKAJP4U/s1600-h/agt.png"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5091332872340565106" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/RqgMRbkg7HI/AAAAAAAAABs/ympruKAJP4U/s200/agt.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a class="image" title="" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Americatalent06.PNG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;My family has become hooked on NBC's &lt;em&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nbc.com/Americas_Got_Talent/"&gt;America's Got Talent&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/em&gt;this summer. There's not much else new to watch, and we've watched this season from the beginning. One night, all four of us watched it, on four different TV's, in four different rooms - yelling back and forth to each other about who we liked and who we didn't. Everyone has their own favorite pick to win. Some of the contestants are quite talented, while others need a swift dose of reality. I mostly watch to see Riley's reactions. She has very strong opinions where the show is concerned. I find her to be more entertaining than the actual show itself. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I've never actually considered myself to be a "talented" person. I've tried many things, and been moderately successful at a few. I tried to play softball as a teenager. For some reason, though, the coach would never tell me when or where practices would be. I gave up on that. I was a competitive gymnast for several years as well. One year, I won state for my level. The other girl in my age division got second place. Bless her heart! Artistic ability runs in my family. I could never draw very well, but thought that I was pretty good at "lettering." Until I came home one day to see the "lettering" masterpieces my fifteen year old daughter had created with sidewalk chalk. I've tried running, but won't &lt;em&gt;EVEN&lt;/em&gt; tell you why that didn't work. Several years ago, I played on a faculty volleyball team at a school where I used to teach. They gave me the award for "Most Improved" player. Is that really a compliment?!? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;If I could choose a talent to possess, it would be singing first, and dancing second. I'm envious of anyone who can belt out a tune. I don't even pretend to be able to do that in the shower or the car. Don't get me wrong. I don't sit around and feel sorry for myself for being so utterly untalented. I'm actually pretty happy with who I am. And I am extremely thankful for all of those along the way who didn't tell me I was good at something that I obviously stunk at. Too bad Mr. Baliwood and Boy Shakira didn't have such good friends and family.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;P.S. Cas Haley gets my vote! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-5812058354441315126?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/5812058354441315126/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=5812058354441315126&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/5812058354441315126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/5812058354441315126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2007/07/americas-got-talent.html' title='America&apos;s Got Talent'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/RqgMRbkg7HI/AAAAAAAAABs/ympruKAJP4U/s72-c/agt.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-8454193615728782403</id><published>2007-07-21T16:07:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T03:43:26.984-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Its a Girl's Night In</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/RqJtFLkg7EI/AAAAAAAAABU/iyEOKPWW4kI/s1600-h/firetruck.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089750464654797890" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/RqJtFLkg7EI/AAAAAAAAABU/iyEOKPWW4kI/s200/firetruck.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Make no mistake, I love my husband with all of my heart. I cherish the time we spend together. He knows this. But over the years, I have also come to love the nights when he is at the fire station. On these nights, it's just me and one or more of the girls. On these nights, I get to do what I want to. On these nights, I might...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Eat cereal for supper. Apple Jacks are my favorite.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Work on a scrapbook. I'm just pages away from finishing the Disney book, then I'm going to help Cass on her Peru book.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Exercise. (Well, not lately...) I've got one tried and true favorite exercise video that I like. Yes, I said video - it's Cindy Crawford if that gives you any idea how long it's been around. There are a couple of new ones laying around the house that haven't been tried out. I'm actually thinking about that for tonight.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Watch a chick-flick that I know the hubby wouldn't be interested in. Or better yet, re-watch one. &lt;em&gt;50 First Dates&lt;/em&gt; and &lt;em&gt;How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days&lt;/em&gt; are favorites.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Piddle" on the computer. (See previous post...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Get an early bath and be in bed by 9:00. Then watch mindless TV until I finally drift off to sleep. I don't get to do this very often. It's hard to if I also have to get Riley to bed on a school night, but it certainly feels indulgent when I can.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Read a good book. If I ever get started on one, I have a hard time putting it down, so these are great for fire station nights!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Go to a ball game. Even if neither of our kids is playing in it. I enjoy a ball game, but it's normally not his cup of tea.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Clean. Yep, I tend to get more of this done when he's away than when he's here. I think that I like the idea of him being able to come home to a clean house in the morning. Or, a clean room, at least.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Stay up late. Almost always, especially during the summer. Sometimes until midnight, sometimes until much later. I'm surrounded by people all day long, so those late night hours when the girls are asleep are like heaven on earth.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I guess most of those are things that are done in "isolation," if you want to call it that. Maybe somewhere in my subconscious I have started doing those things so that when he is here, I can spend time with him. At least be in the same room with him. Because as much as I look forward to my nights alone, I &lt;em&gt;can't wait &lt;/em&gt;to see him the next day!! I love you, babe!! See you tomorrow morning!&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/6402328001941539388-8454193615728782403?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/8454193615728782403/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=8454193615728782403&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/8454193615728782403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/8454193615728782403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2007/07/its-girls-night-in.html' title='Its a Girl&apos;s Night In'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/RqJtFLkg7EI/AAAAAAAAABU/iyEOKPWW4kI/s72-c/firetruck.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-5625115251233774098</id><published>2007-07-18T16:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T03:43:26.994-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Webkinz'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='confession'/><title type='text'>Confession Is Good for the Soul</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/Rp6E7fJ2D8I/AAAAAAAAAA8/bNh52pS4afg/s1600-h/webkinz.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;After much heartfelt consideration and intense personal examination, I have decided that I need to come clean about something. I have a confession that I need to make. Here goes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My name is Amy, and I am shamelessly addicted to &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Webkinz"&gt;Webkins&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I first heard about Webkinz from some friends, who were getting them as Christmas gifts for their children. (See, Dena &amp;amp; Lindsey - it's all your fault!) Not wanting &lt;strong&gt;my child&lt;/strong&gt; to be left out, I made sure that Riley got one for Christmas as well. I sat at the computer with her the first few times, helping her figure out how to navigate her way around Webkinz world. I was quite impressed with all that the website had to offer. I started playing some of the games, helping her earn some KinzCash so she could buy some cool things for her furry blue hippo. Before long, though, I found myself playing the games without her asking me to. I'd play when everyone else was outside or no one was home so that they wouldn't catch me. I'd play during a duty-free lunch or a planning period at school. I'd play late at night when Clint was at the fire station. Last night, I tried to sign on at 3:30 a.m. when I couldn't sleep. Today, I played for an hour while I ate my gourmet lunch of Bagel Bites and a banana. I'll probably play again when I finish typing this post. I'm trying very hard right now not to order the cute new dalmatian that just became available, in honor of Riley's first stage performance in &lt;em&gt;101 Dalmatians.&lt;/em&gt; I want to get one for my mom, so we can go head-to-head on some games. I'm hooked - what can I say?!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Parents, if you're looking for a good toy to keep your kids occupied during these last weeks of summer, order a Webkins. But be warned - you may become an addict as well! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-5625115251233774098?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/5625115251233774098/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=5625115251233774098&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/5625115251233774098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/5625115251233774098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2007/07/confession-is-good-for-soul.html' title='Confession Is Good for the Soul'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-4773977587516864190</id><published>2007-07-18T04:46:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T03:43:27.111-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleep Deprived</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/Rp2yEvJ2D6I/AAAAAAAAAAs/SsDeZXWeef4/s1600-h/clock.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/Rp2yEvJ2D6I/AAAAAAAAAAs/SsDeZXWeef4/s200/clock.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5088418948445507490" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I can't sleep anymore.  It's 1:29 a.m.  I've been up since 8:00, no naps.  Yet, here I am...wide awake.  122 channels, and nothing to watch, not even on TVLand or NickatNite.  During the school year, it's a struggle to get to bed by 11:00, and I literally have to drag myself out of bed when the alarm clock goes off (for the 3rd time!) at 6:00 a.m.  On those nights I sleep like a baby.  I'm out as soon as my head hits the pillow.  On those nights, I long for summertime, so I don't have to set any alarms, and can sleep in.  Then summer finally rolls around.  Before the end of June the sleep trouble starts. Now it's the middle of July and I feel like I never sleep.  I've tried Tylenol PM, but I'm hesitant about medicating.  I've cut out caffeine at night.  I've got nothing pressing on my mind, no plans to make or carry out.  I guess I could do something productive with my time, but the house is clean, the bills are paid, the laundry is washed and put away (well, most of it).  What's a girl to do???  Anyone out there have any suggestions?  My only consolation is knowing that in 20 days the sleep trouble ends.  On June 6, I have to report back to work.  Then I'll sleep.  Then I'll wake up at 6:00a.m.  Then I'll wish for summertime again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-4773977587516864190?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/4773977587516864190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=4773977587516864190&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/4773977587516864190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/4773977587516864190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2007/07/sleep-deprived.html' title='Sleep Deprived'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BZTMjyvYNiM/Rp2yEvJ2D6I/AAAAAAAAAAs/SsDeZXWeef4/s72-c/clock.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6402328001941539388.post-6351411649393721485</id><published>2007-07-18T01:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-18T01:17:17.689-04:00</updated><title type='text'>hello - is anyone out there?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I finally gave in.  Bit the bullet.  After stalking and lurking for some time, I decided to try blogging for myself.  See if there really is anything interesting enough in my life to share. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6402328001941539388-6351411649393721485?l=talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/feeds/6351411649393721485/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6402328001941539388&amp;postID=6351411649393721485&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/6351411649393721485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6402328001941539388/posts/default/6351411649393721485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talesofa4thgradenothing.blogspot.com/2007/07/hello-is-anyone-out-there.html' title='hello - is anyone out there?'/><author><name>Mrs. N.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
