<?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-8803478</id><updated>2011-10-21T16:40:08.090-04:00</updated><title type='text'>These Thoughts of Mine</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>51</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-6495249476405461660</id><published>2010-02-24T03:21:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-24T03:28:32.072-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm absolutely horrendous when it comes to using the phone. I don't know what it is or when it started. In middle/high school I was on the phone every day. I had no qualms about calling friends. Nowadays email is king for me. Am I the only one who has grown antisocial? I can't blame it on the kids because people have always had kids. I wonder if people visited each other in person less once the telephone became mainstream? Maybe it's inherent laziness? Or an inherent desire to be more efficient? Yeah, I like that one. I'll go with it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-6495249476405461660?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/6495249476405461660/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=6495249476405461660' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/6495249476405461660'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/6495249476405461660'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2010/02/im-absolutely-horrendous-when-it-comes.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-5568179356059456427</id><published>2009-08-20T22:26:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-20T22:33:03.274-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I didn't think about him having another. Never thought to factor that in. It was inevitable though when you think about it. What's the likelihood of him not having another during all that time? There's bound to be some jealousy there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know about me really having a good attitude about the whole thing. Maybe it's half good attitude and half selfishness - grasping for a chance to have what most others take for granted regardless of his reasons for not being around.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-5568179356059456427?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/5568179356059456427/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=5568179356059456427' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/5568179356059456427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/5568179356059456427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-didnt-think-about-him-having-another.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-5445937573677302719</id><published>2009-08-17T14:37:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-17T14:48:42.282-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>What a roller coaster I've been on since last week. I read his messages over and over, re-read his comments, stare at his picture, and today play and re-play his voicemail message. I've been skeptical, nervous, wondering, imagining. It's my turn now, that's all I can say. He's mine if I want, I know that. I want so he will be. Last time I had no choice in his leaving, no influence in who he was. This time I will make a difference. Because for whatever time we have left he is mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am beyond blessed, if that's possible. I have a wonderful family - immediate and extended. I thank God for them every day. MochaGrl and MusicMan have been so supportive; I don't think they even realize how what they do makes me feel. I love them. They are mine too.  :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-5445937573677302719?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/5445937573677302719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=5445937573677302719' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/5445937573677302719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/5445937573677302719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2009/08/what-roller-coaster-ive-been-on-since.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-510957440664518681</id><published>2009-04-01T02:08:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T02:22:11.310-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Explain to me how your emergency becomes my emergency. Explain how your failure becomes my fault. Go ahead. I'll wait as you formulate your answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing logical? Didn't think so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't mind helping, really. What I mind is when you don't have your priorities straight and when you finally realize something has to be done all of sudden I'm expected to feel obligated to not merely assist but solve your problems for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he." Are you really convinced that you lack the ability to 'comprehend'? Well, if I'm having this feeling of frustration because of you then maybe you do. Cruel but possibly true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fortunately for you I can see past your guilt trips and retain some semblance of compassion for your situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You and your other half are two peas in a pod. I'll bet you never noticed that. You both never truly look inward but always project the blame onto others. Nothing is ever your fault. You shouldn't have to follow the rules. Everyone owes you something. It's a shame because you have potential to go so much further than your short-sightedness shows you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-510957440664518681?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/510957440664518681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=510957440664518681' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/510957440664518681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/510957440664518681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2009/04/explain-to-me-how-your-emergency.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-2398953799170535522</id><published>2009-02-20T17:42:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-20T17:44:49.745-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>SOME people are self-important. They feel the world revolves around them. Why? Nothing is ever their fault, or if it is it's because they had good reasons. Um, ok. Do these people really believe my life would have a void if they stayed out of it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-2398953799170535522?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/2398953799170535522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=2398953799170535522' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/2398953799170535522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/2398953799170535522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2009/02/some-people-are-self-important.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-1395492142716854947</id><published>2009-02-17T08:58:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T09:12:20.538-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I ran into an old crush last weekend. He looked cute as ever. His presence brought back so many memories of my first year of college which was when we met. I was a naive 17 year old who always sought to see the good in people. So trusting. So open. So easily attached. I learned quickly to not be so trusting. Now I am so jaded that I am surprised when I see good in people. All of this has little to do with my crush. It was nice to see him...and remember. Oh, he had a friend with him - a guy that liked me once. We went out for lunch and I think I met his mom, but that went nowhere fast. He wasn't my type. Those memories I could have done without. lol&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-1395492142716854947?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/1395492142716854947/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=1395492142716854947' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/1395492142716854947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/1395492142716854947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-ran-into-old-crush-last-weekend.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-5307322078622879759</id><published>2009-02-07T00:41:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-07T00:57:49.871-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I met a man today.&lt;br /&gt;He killed another man.&lt;br /&gt;...who raped his daughter.&lt;br /&gt;She was three.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate those stories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guy did five years. Fortunately, she's eight now and doesn't remember anything, nor did she have any lasting physical damage.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-5307322078622879759?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/5307322078622879759/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=5307322078622879759' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/5307322078622879759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/5307322078622879759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-met-man-today.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-5484605934001533743</id><published>2009-01-01T15:54:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-01T20:57:50.065-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Celebrated new year's outside of my house for the first time in years. Actually, most times we can't even stay awake long enough to watch the count down, old fogies that we are! We had such a good time though. Like other party-goers we got dressed and left the house minutes to 11:00 P.M. One Red Bull (for K) and a Coke Zero and Snickers and we were ready to party. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The host, D, is a trip. He's good people. His whole family was warm and open. There was food and kids and an open mic. Karl ate while listening to older Italian men tell stories about growing up in NYC and all the fights they used to get into. I finally got to meet D's fiance too. We ended up staying until 2:00 A.M. and Shelbs lasted the entire time! She even had her time on the mic. She realized she like it so much we had to pry her off - literally! It was too funny. She sang Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star and her ABC's. She tried to sing "Sign Me Up for the Christian Jubilee" but it didn't work out and the 'audience' had no clue what she was on about anyway. lol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In 2007 we spent Thanksgiving at a psuedo-ex-co-worker's mom's house (pseudo because he was a contractor at the company I used to work for). In 2008 we spent new year's eve at an ex-co-worker's uncle's house. Where will we be on any given special day in 2009?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unrelated Question: Is it bad when you see an old co-worker but can't remember where you know him from??&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-5484605934001533743?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/5484605934001533743/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=5484605934001533743' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/5484605934001533743'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/5484605934001533743'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2009/01/celebrated-new-years-outside-of-my.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-5852067324538636777</id><published>2008-11-05T23:37:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-05T23:38:28.092-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So busy these days. How can I make it calm down?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-5852067324538636777?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/5852067324538636777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=5852067324538636777' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/5852067324538636777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/5852067324538636777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2008/11/so-busy-these-days.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-590103128059463862</id><published>2008-10-10T22:08:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-10T23:05:27.690-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today was a different kind of day. It started out like every other, with me carting the kids off to school and then rushing to work. I made a concerted effort to get to work at a decent time, i.e. before 9:30 A.M., and I did. Going through the motions I read emails, sent emails, worked on some issues, and before I knew it it was time for lunch. My ride had called to say he was downstairs. I picked up my purse and was about to leave when the phone rang again - it was my boss. He wanted to see me. My boss never wants to see me out of blue but I didn't think anything of it at first. When I walked into that big conference room to see only him and some papers in front of him on the table I knew something was up. He told me the company had to let me go. I've never been of the mindset that I'm irreplaceable so it wasn't a complete shock. You're never really ready to be suddenly separated from something that has been a part of your life for so long though. That was the saddest part for me - leaving my work family. I started as an intern before graduating college. That was over 12 years ago. Since then I bought a house, got married, and had kids. My work peeps were with me all along.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-590103128059463862?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/590103128059463862/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=590103128059463862' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/590103128059463862'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/590103128059463862'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2008/10/today-was-different-kind-of-day.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-3270734821347270878</id><published>2008-09-16T17:13:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-16T17:13:35.603-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Getting closer to October 12 but no closer to Grenada.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-3270734821347270878?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/3270734821347270878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=3270734821347270878' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/3270734821347270878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/3270734821347270878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2008/09/getting-closer-to-october-12-but-no.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-7278476515248691949</id><published>2008-08-27T11:54:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-27T12:02:28.186-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I am so thankful to God every day and every night for keeping me alive. It's the weirdest thing to go to bed and really wonder if your heart will keep beating and if you will wake up in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think of my family and my children in particular - how would they deal with the loss? How would hubby manage the household ops?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know, life would go on for them. They would deal with the hurdles. What can I do now to lower the hurdle bars? Something as simple as making sure hubby knows where all the passwords would help a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;*************************&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My girl doctor offered to let me market my maternity photography at his office. That would be so cool. I need a volunteer pregnant model that I can use in my marketing material. I asked one completely forgetting that I could have asked another, but now they are both due basically now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;*************************&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Started reading &lt;em&gt;A Clash of Kings&lt;/em&gt; by George R. R. Martin. I love his writing. I get so engrossed in the story it's really like being in another world. This is book two of a series of about four books so far. The first book was awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;*************************&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grenada will be having their annual Cricket tournament October 12. Tickets right now are about $800 per person (same as last year this time). That's steep. I really want to go though, and take hubby. We would have such a relaxing time hanging out, doing nothing, introducing him to extended family, "liming" with the people.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-7278476515248691949?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/7278476515248691949/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=7278476515248691949' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/7278476515248691949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/7278476515248691949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-am-so-thankful-to-god-every-day-and.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-4609177479191278481</id><published>2008-08-13T12:19:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-15T09:50:50.603-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Finished &lt;em&gt;Prey&lt;/em&gt;. Good read&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-4609177479191278481?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/4609177479191278481/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=4609177479191278481' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/4609177479191278481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/4609177479191278481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2008/08/finish-prey.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-4666926952541647290</id><published>2008-08-11T17:30:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-11T17:37:28.912-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I 'worked' this weekend. Did photography (and video) for a benefit concert. Did the same for a dinner for someone. Late nights but lots of fun. Granted, I didn't get paid for either, but I'll chalk it up to experience. Same for last week with respect to the anniversary service/dinner I did (that time only photography). Now it's really time to get my name out there. Still need a flash though cause everywhere you look it's a lowlight situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life can be so overwhelming. I don't know which way to go next so I keep going the way I know how. But things don't go away. Nothing gets fixed without attention paid to it. My head is still buried in "Prey". I hate putting it down. Makes me want to write my own book. Reality or fiction? Still yet to be decided.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-4666926952541647290?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/4666926952541647290/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=4666926952541647290' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/4666926952541647290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/4666926952541647290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-worked-this-weekend.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-8798013385844010502</id><published>2008-08-06T17:36:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-06T17:41:13.294-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm feeling more confident, like I could really do this thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a concert this Saturday night to "work". (Don't get me started on a period-inside-the-quotation-marks tangent!) Some bigwigs from Jamaica will be there. I will be sure to have some business cards availablae for distribution.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Started reading Michael Crichton's book, &lt;em&gt;Prey&lt;/em&gt;. It's a really good read so far - good writing, interesting topic.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-8798013385844010502?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/8798013385844010502/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=8798013385844010502' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/8798013385844010502'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/8798013385844010502'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2008/08/im-feeling-more-confident-like-i-could.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-6452340641621661912</id><published>2008-07-15T14:18:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-15T14:37:21.223-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I've started advertising our services to local churches. The two services I'm pushing are:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;free consulting to churches to grow their technology ministry&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;photography and video for weddings, funerals, etc.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm surprised at the number of pastors I know personally. Hopefully the contacts payoff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm about to bite the bullet and purchase some lights. How big is this bullet? $600+ dollars. It's an investment I *have* to make, otherwise how can I go forward? At least then I can do portraits for people. Granted it's only a two-light system, but it's a start.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been agonizing about whether to go for a hotshoe flash, a new lens, or some lights. Well, it's easy to rent a flash or a lens, but the lights I have to practice with over time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-6452340641621661912?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/6452340641621661912/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=6452340641621661912' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/6452340641621661912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/6452340641621661912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2008/07/ive-started-advertising-our-services-to.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-4778238808100772576</id><published>2008-07-15T12:06:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-15T12:07:54.926-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I would love to have a reunion with my high school class. Hubb attended his 20th year reunion this past weekend. We went and had fun. I expected more people but the ones who were there were obviously having a good time. I was impressed with the games. As I sat there I kept envisioning what my own reunion could be like.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-4778238808100772576?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/4778238808100772576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=4778238808100772576' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/4778238808100772576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/4778238808100772576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2008/07/i-would-love-to-have-reunion-with-my.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-4486659188254715589</id><published>2008-07-08T13:30:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-08T17:00:00.890-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Had a staycation last week. So cool. And then I took yesterday (Monday) off. I'm so relaxed today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-4486659188254715589?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/4486659188254715589/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=4486659188254715589' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/4486659188254715589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/4486659188254715589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2008/07/had-staycation-last-week.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-2124808580696515922</id><published>2008-06-27T16:50:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-27T17:03:48.502-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Have you ever felt like you wanted to do something but you didn't know where to start, or you thought you knew where to start but you were overwhelmed with the million things that would eventually need to be done, or you felt like a guinea pig spinning in a wheel?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So many things I want to do but will any ever go to completion?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Messed up a customer order. Well, it wasn't a company order but it pretty much looked like it came from my company so I had to not only write a letter of apology but I also had to eat the cost of lost material. That sucks. I will do better next time. What I need to do (something else to add to my list) is create a Quality Assurance plan/process/document/something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I plan to go to the sunrise on the beach thing that youth department is planning for this Sunday. Should be nice. The last one was cool. Beautiful time of the day to take pictures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This evening I meet with the new youth department leaders to introduce my department to them. Hopefully we can get everyone using our services in a timely and efficient manner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much to do, so much to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* finish my business plan&lt;br /&gt;* create an expense report&lt;br /&gt;* file my sales tax&lt;br /&gt;* 'file' my expenses&lt;br /&gt;* plan first departmental meeting/training/orientation&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know there's more - that's why I'm taking next week off! Shucks. I better remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why am I posting here instead of the other spot? Well, that one auto feeds into my FB. Yes, I can change that but why when I can just use this one. There both mine anyway.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-2124808580696515922?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/2124808580696515922/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=2124808580696515922' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/2124808580696515922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/2124808580696515922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2008/06/have-you-ever-felt-like-you-wanted-to.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-3964138648481078260</id><published>2008-06-26T13:57:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-26T17:11:07.647-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>If everyone would just say what they mean and mean what they say....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-3964138648481078260?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/3964138648481078260/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=3964138648481078260' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/3964138648481078260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/3964138648481078260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2008/06/if-everyone-would-just-say-what-they.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-8203646666700974097</id><published>2007-04-17T15:20:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T00:50:28.870-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s1600-h/IMG_4615_sm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5054479173280171426" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-8203646666700974097?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/8203646666700974097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=8203646666700974097' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/8203646666700974097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/8203646666700974097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2007/04/blog-post_3401.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s72-c/IMG_4615_sm.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-8305498862238155359</id><published>2007-04-17T15:16:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T00:50:29.091-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUdGz_5hZI/AAAAAAAAAas/mi42_uWLpC4/s1600-h/IMG_4615.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUdGz_5hZI/AAAAAAAAAas/mi42_uWLpC4/s320/IMG_4615.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5054478159667889554" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-8305498862238155359?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/8305498862238155359/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=8305498862238155359' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/8305498862238155359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/8305498862238155359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2007/04/blog-post_17.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUdGz_5hZI/AAAAAAAAAas/mi42_uWLpC4/s72-c/IMG_4615.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-9017889128554095418</id><published>2007-04-17T15:14:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T00:50:29.224-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUcqz_5hYI/AAAAAAAAAak/yLnXm2uZX7s/s1600-h/IMG_4615.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUcqz_5hYI/AAAAAAAAAak/yLnXm2uZX7s/s320/IMG_4615.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5054477678631552386" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-9017889128554095418?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/9017889128554095418/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=9017889128554095418' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/9017889128554095418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/9017889128554095418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2007/04/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUcqz_5hYI/AAAAAAAAAak/yLnXm2uZX7s/s72-c/IMG_4615.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-7226927497384550372</id><published>2006-12-22T15:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-22T15:47:27.144-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Is It Time for a Job Change?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.careerbuilder.com/JobSeeker/careerbytes/CBArticle.aspx?lr=cbbell&amp;articleID=590&amp;cbRecursionCnt=1&amp;cbsid=fb183198eb17458da26df28c2d71df85-220110704-XB-2"&gt;Questions taken from a BellSouth article.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What are you doing when time seems to fly by?&lt;br /&gt;Spending time with my immediate family - hubby and kids, reading, thinking about writing (what to write, how to start)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps your ideal job might exist or be created within your present company. If you were offered the ideal job, what would it be?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you look forward to doing on the weekends or on a vacation? &lt;br /&gt;Hanging with my husband, watching my kids, relaxing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you think of someone who has a "dream job," what do they do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If money were no object, what kind of work would you love to do?&lt;br /&gt;Teach/tutor kids&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If your boss told you she'd give you a year off to contribute to the community in some way, what would you choose?&lt;br /&gt;Volunteer at an elementary school, maybe also at a shelter, or at a women's center&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are there any classes you might like to take at the local college or adult education center?&lt;br /&gt;Cooking, photography&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Close your eyes. Take a deep breath and relax. What images come to mind as you see yourself in your ideal job?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is your intuition communicating to you right now about your ideal job?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is there any action that you're being guided to take? Is there anything that feels exciting or joyful that you want to act on?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-7226927497384550372?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/7226927497384550372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=7226927497384550372' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/7226927497384550372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/7226927497384550372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2006/12/is-it-time-for-job-change-questions.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-115348820200178293</id><published>2006-07-21T09:21:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-21T09:23:22.010-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>If you call me and I'm sleeping but you insist on having a monologue, I &lt;em&gt;will&lt;/em&gt; be aggravated with you for the rest of the day so you're better off not calling me back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How are people so oblivious and self-absorbed??&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-115348820200178293?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/115348820200178293/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=115348820200178293' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/115348820200178293'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/115348820200178293'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2006/07/if-you-call-me-and-im-sleeping-but-you.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-115190085032970476</id><published>2006-07-03T00:23:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-03T00:27:30.340-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It would appear that I haven't had many thoughts lately but that couldn't be further from the truth. I've been thinking (and reading) about writing, about my sister, about my church, about my family, about work. Oh snap! I forgot (again) that I'm supposed to turn in my mid-year review form tomorrow morning! *sigh* Maybe I shouldn't go to work tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-115190085032970476?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/115190085032970476/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=115190085032970476' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/115190085032970476'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/115190085032970476'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2006/07/it-would-appear-that-i-havent-had-many.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-112748980967718020</id><published>2005-09-23T11:35:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-09-23T11:36:49.676-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I need a hug, that's all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-112748980967718020?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/112748980967718020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=112748980967718020' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/112748980967718020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/112748980967718020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2005/09/i-need-hug-thats-all.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-112748958526819937</id><published>2005-09-23T11:32:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-09-23T11:33:05.273-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I hate fighting.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-112748958526819937?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/112748958526819937/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=112748958526819937' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/112748958526819937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/112748958526819937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2005/09/i-hate-fighting.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-112667017367100333</id><published>2005-09-13T23:55:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-09-13T23:56:13.676-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>How can you hurt someone who has only been good to you?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-112667017367100333?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/112667017367100333/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=112667017367100333' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/112667017367100333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/112667017367100333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2005/09/how-can-you-hurt-someone-who-has-only.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-112460522973378775</id><published>2005-08-21T02:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-08-21T02:20:29.740-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>What do you feel when you don't know what to feel? A mixture of confusion, anxiety, hesitation.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-112460522973378775?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/112460522973378775/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=112460522973378775' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/112460522973378775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/112460522973378775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2005/08/what-do-you-feel-when-you-dont-know.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-112067763665392829</id><published>2005-07-06T15:20:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-07-06T15:39:23.200-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It was gone before I realized I felt it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-112067763665392829?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/112067763665392829/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=112067763665392829' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/112067763665392829'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/112067763665392829'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2005/07/it-was-gone-before-i-realized-i-felt.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-112062031324407382</id><published>2005-07-05T23:24:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-07-05T23:25:13.250-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Am I the one your mother warned you about? ...the bad girl in good girl's clothing?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-112062031324407382?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/112062031324407382/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=112062031324407382' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/112062031324407382'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/112062031324407382'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2005/07/am-i-one-your-mother-warned-you-about.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-111721577011432225</id><published>2005-05-27T13:40:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-05-27T13:42:50.123-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"Wise men learn more from fools than fools from the wise."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You will relieve a past experience which will be enlightening."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My fortune cookie contained TWO fortunes. Interesting.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-111721577011432225?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/111721577011432225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=111721577011432225' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/111721577011432225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/111721577011432225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2005/05/wise-men-learn-more-from-fools-than.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-111626623541777797</id><published>2005-05-16T13:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-05-16T13:57:15.423-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.sun-sentinel.com/news/local/southflorida/sfl-516sentence,0,3126634.story?coll=sfla-home-headlines"&gt;What should I wish for this male person?&lt;/a&gt; (He's certainly not a man, so I won't refer to him as one.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a Christian&lt;br /&gt;I should want to see him rehabilitated. I should want him to overcome his base nature. I should want him to find God for real. I do want all that for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a mother&lt;br /&gt;I want him to be another's man's boy toy. I want him to feel ten times the pain he caused to that little girl. Slow torture would be fine. But I can't want all that for him. I have to overcome my own base nature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It just makes me so angry and sad and longing for God to come. Asking 'why' doesn't change the fact that these things 'are'. But maybe we can figure out how to help prevent these things from happening? I don't know. I say it everyday that as time goes on I lose more and more faith in humanity.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-111626623541777797?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/111626623541777797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=111626623541777797' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/111626623541777797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/111626623541777797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2005/05/what-should-i-wish-for-this-male.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-111624666072984032</id><published>2005-05-16T08:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-05-16T08:31:00.736-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I've been a good girl.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-111624666072984032?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/111624666072984032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=111624666072984032' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/111624666072984032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/111624666072984032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2005/05/ive-been-good-girl.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-111535148326985127</id><published>2005-05-05T23:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-05-05T23:51:23.293-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://danjaruznegress.blogspot.com/2005/04/broken-stories.html"&gt;Why does there have to be so much pain??&lt;/a&gt; I give props to those who are strong enough to share their experiences that others may not feel alone or guilty.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-111535148326985127?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/111535148326985127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=111535148326985127' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/111535148326985127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/111535148326985127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2005/05/why-does-there-have-to-be-so-much-pain.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-111419004901655447</id><published>2005-04-22T12:54:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-04-22T13:14:09.016-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It's really &lt;b&gt;disgusting&lt;/b&gt; when cars pull off the highway to watch the after effects of an accident. Rubbernecking is bad enough, but &lt;em&gt;pulling off to the side of the road to watch?!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-111419004901655447?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/111419004901655447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=111419004901655447' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/111419004901655447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/111419004901655447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2005/04/its-really-disgusting-when-cars-pull.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-111350752853697383</id><published>2005-04-14T15:36:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-04-14T15:38:48.536-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It's possible to walk, talk and even drive in your sleep. It's also possible to have sex in your sleep. There have been cases. One particular case is about a woman who would leave her home at night and have sex with strangers. And she did it for months until her partner awoke one night only to find her missing. She was found ... caught in the act&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you do in a situation like that? Do you wake up the person? How do you confront him (or her)? Then or later?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I'm sure it is a real disorder, but what a good excuse that could make. "Honey, I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. I was sleeping."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-111350752853697383?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/111350752853697383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=111350752853697383' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/111350752853697383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/111350752853697383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2005/04/its-possible-to-walk-talk-and-even.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-111282063265216918</id><published>2005-04-06T16:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-04-06T16:50:32.653-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i want to live, to feel, to experience&lt;br /&gt;the sights, the sounds, the scents&lt;br /&gt;but it's not my place, my right, my own&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-111282063265216918?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/111282063265216918/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=111282063265216918' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/111282063265216918'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/111282063265216918'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2005/04/i-want-to-live-to-feel-to-experience.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-111267217806027601</id><published>2005-04-04T23:25:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-04-04T23:36:18.060-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>What do you do when you don't know what to do? When you know what you should do, and you know you'll probably do what's right, but you want to do what's wrong? Yes, I know some will say to pray. Been there. Doing that. Not working so well. Does that mean my faith needs to be stronger? Probably.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-111267217806027601?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/111267217806027601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=111267217806027601' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/111267217806027601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/111267217806027601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2005/04/what-do-you-do-when-you-dont-know-what.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-111150716574742642</id><published>2005-03-22T10:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-22T11:01:34.793-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>to cry.&lt;br /&gt;    to release.&lt;br /&gt;    that would be nice. sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;    to have a shoulder available.&lt;br /&gt;    to not be asked what's wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;people can be so disappointing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-111150716574742642?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/111150716574742642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=111150716574742642' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/111150716574742642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/111150716574742642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2005/03/to-cry.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-111118032156411439</id><published>2005-03-18T14:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-18T16:12:01.566-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>What is love?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-111118032156411439?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/111118032156411439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=111118032156411439' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/111118032156411439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/111118032156411439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2005/03/what-is-love.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-111046977875577591</id><published>2005-03-10T10:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-10T10:49:38.756-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Why is it that when someone calls you at work and you let the person know you're ready to go, the person has to make an offhand comment like, "So you're ready to get rid of me already?" I'M AT WORK!! WHY IS IT A SURPRISE THAT I HAVE TO GO SOMETIMES??!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-111046977875577591?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/111046977875577591/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=111046977875577591' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/111046977875577591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/111046977875577591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2005/03/why-is-it-that-when-someone-calls-you.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-111014257723788264</id><published>2005-03-06T15:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-06T15:57:51.953-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I know there are only so many men and a disproportionately high number of women, but is that really any excuse for us being so catty? I love it when I'm meeting a guy friend's girlfriend and she's giving me the eye, looking at me up and down, trying to decide if I'm a threat to her new relationship. Oh, if she only knew. Insecure women who take out their frustrations by throwing daggers at me with their eyes make me laugh. All it does is get them a bad review from me to her new beau and all of our mutual friends. At least, I &lt;em&gt;used&lt;/em&gt; to be that mean.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-111014257723788264?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/111014257723788264/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=111014257723788264' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/111014257723788264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/111014257723788264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2005/03/i-know-there-are-only-so-many-men-and.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-110925913873573129</id><published>2005-02-24T10:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-02-24T10:32:18.736-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It's not cool being broke.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-110925913873573129?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/110925913873573129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=110925913873573129' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/110925913873573129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/110925913873573129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2005/02/its-not-cool-being-broke.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-110839627321488802</id><published>2005-02-14T10:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-02-14T10:51:13.253-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>We can never fully understand the feelings and decisions of another until we go through what that person has gone through. I believe that now more than ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People like to talk to impress others. Phrases easily become cliche'. Determining sincerity becomes almost impossible. Especially when people believe what they say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's no way for me to convey what's going on in my head right now. I'm not trying to be philosophical, just real.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-110839627321488802?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/110839627321488802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=110839627321488802' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/110839627321488802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/110839627321488802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2005/02/we-can-never-fully-understand-feelings.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-110675354230172269</id><published>2005-01-26T10:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-02-10T15:10:53.050-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>What's really aggravating is when you give specific directions but they aren't followed. Instead, the person comes up with his own logic and improvements which in the end messes up your carefully thought out plan!! Can you tell that's happened to me recently?! AT LEAST TELL ME BEFORE YOU CHANGE THE COURSE OF MY LIFE!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-110675354230172269?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/110675354230172269/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=110675354230172269' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/110675354230172269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/110675354230172269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2005/01/whats-really-aggravating-is-when-you.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-110541862726993607</id><published>2005-01-10T23:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-01-10T23:43:47.270-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A 21 yr old 'man' banged his 2 mth old son's head against the kitchen cabinet and the floor and then put the baby to sleep. When he realized the baby wasn't breathing he sought help. Children having children. I can't express the grief I feel for that poor baby and the mother who had entrusted her twins (one boy, one girl) to their father.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-110541862726993607?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/110541862726993607/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=110541862726993607' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/110541862726993607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/110541862726993607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2005/01/21-yr-old-man-banged-his-2-mth-old.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-110242938953670952</id><published>2004-12-07T08:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-12-07T09:23:09.536-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So, a 19-yr old was sentenced to jailtime (about 40 years, if I remember correctly) for raping a 14-month old girl and causing internal injuries so severe she may never be able to have children of her own. He was 17 when the crime was committed. The girl's mother had asked him to babysit her daughter. He should have been wearing his ankle monitor at the time and he had previous run-ins with the law, plus he was known to have mental problems.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I agree he should be punished for his crime, but what about the negligent mother?? Would you leave your just-over-a-year-old daughter with a 17-yr old boy/man? That is &lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt; how you give someone the benefit of the doubt. How old does one have to be to babysit anyway? Maybe I'm being too hard on the mother. Maybe she was too trusting? What happened to the good old days when babysitters were older women with motherly instincts? My grandmother used to babysit kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know. These things bother me. People don't think. I know, I know, I'm not perfect either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday a 14-mth old climbed up on a piece of furniture and fell over a 4th floor balcony to the concrete below. The baby died today.  Where were the parents?? Why was the balcony door left unlocked (or open)?? The mother and grandmother were inside the apartment but after interviews with authorities, foul play is not suspected. Some things are really just freak accidents, but most can be avoided if proper precautions are taken.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-110242938953670952?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/110242938953670952/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=110242938953670952' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/110242938953670952'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/110242938953670952'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2004/12/so-19-yr-old-was-sentenced-to-jailtime.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-110092615759825780</id><published>2004-11-19T23:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-11-19T23:49:17.600-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I can't stand to hear about the troops losing their lives. I can't imagine how I would feel if I got that bad news myself. These are &lt;em&gt;lives&lt;/em&gt; of &lt;em&gt;people&lt;/em&gt; that have ended. They won't grow old, they won't see their children grow, they won't dream anymore...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-110092615759825780?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/110092615759825780/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=110092615759825780' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/110092615759825780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/110092615759825780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2004/11/i-cant-stand-to-hear-about-troops.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8803478.post-110060824265639695</id><published>2004-11-16T07:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-11-16T07:30:42.656-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I noticed people using turn signals on the Turnpike this morning. How unusual. (That they used the signals, not that I noticed them.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8803478-110060824265639695?l=thisthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/feeds/110060824265639695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8803478&amp;postID=110060824265639695' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/110060824265639695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8803478/posts/default/110060824265639695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisthought.blogspot.com/2004/11/i-noticed-people-using-turn-signals-on.html' title=''/><author><name>ShellyP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04509556569543778982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_j0Z9PfR-XcM/RiUeBz_5haI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Z5hFCmtKUeg/s320/IMG_4615_sm.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
