<?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-7862633477858522526</id><updated>2011-04-22T00:35:31.992-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Life's Eight Passions</title><subtitle type='html'>Because what would life be without a bit of passion in it?</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC5kVe0pbmI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/xoedhLSZdlU/S220/profile+pic.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>36</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7862633477858522526.post-3080221123180764832</id><published>2008-08-11T00:08:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-11T00:14:45.976-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Go USA!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SJ-8CCXPNEI/AAAAAAAAAOU/h7qscCCePxI/s1600-h/g-080810-spt-relay-9p.grid-4x2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SJ-8CCXPNEI/AAAAAAAAAOU/h7qscCCePxI/s200/g-080810-spt-relay-9p.grid-4x2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233108035207902274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I cannot believe I just watched history being made....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SJ-79vA9lpI/AAAAAAAAAOM/iIQj1Hgy1v0/s1600-h/g-080810-spt-phelps-9p.grid-4x3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SJ-79vA9lpI/AAAAAAAAAOM/iIQj1Hgy1v0/s200/g-080810-spt-phelps-9p.grid-4x3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233107961294722706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Team U&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;SA's men swim team just did the unbelievable in the 4x100m freestyle relay.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Yo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;u guys make us proud!&lt;br /&gt;Nothing is more uplifting, more energetic, more patriotic, than seeing the underdogs from your country do the impossible, right at the last few meters.  You could see how red their muscles were from the sheer exertion...but you could not find any happier people than those four young men standing on the edge of the pool. &lt;br /&gt;Well, except for the millions of Americans glued to their TVs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7862633477858522526-3080221123180764832?l=lifes8passions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/feeds/3080221123180764832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7862633477858522526&amp;postID=3080221123180764832' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/3080221123180764832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/3080221123180764832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/2008/08/go-usa.html' title='Go USA!'/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC5kVe0pbmI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/xoedhLSZdlU/S220/profile+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SJ-8CCXPNEI/AAAAAAAAAOU/h7qscCCePxI/s72-c/g-080810-spt-relay-9p.grid-4x2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7862633477858522526.post-3183615829341254733</id><published>2008-08-10T01:59:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-10T02:31:52.207-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm in it for the volleyball...and you?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I haven't been blogging much (actually, none at all) but nothing has really happened to merit said blogging.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;But when watching the beach volleyball segment of the Olympics and checking up the results online, something caught my attention...&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SJ6Izbn72bI/AAAAAAAAAN8/5moq1Elv5Vk/s1600-h/51172357.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SJ6Izbn72bI/AAAAAAAAAN8/5moq1Elv5Vk/s200/51172357.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5232770234221058482" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Dancers?&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Not just any dancers, but dancers in bikinis.  And cheerleaders.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Why?&lt;br /&gt;And I don't mean it in a derogatory way, but with already hot, fit men and women in the tiniest outfits out of the whole Olympic competition, covered in sweat and sand, slapping each other on their posteriors, aren't all eyes already glued to the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;TV?&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't help but think Keri Walsh and Misty May-Treanor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SJ6Ke1MFO5I/AAAAAAAAAOE/j9fG3ixEQpg/s1600-h/476.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SJ6Ke1MFO5I/AAAAAAAAAOE/j9fG3ixEQpg/s200/476.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5232772079329557394" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; could take down the entire dance and cheerleader sq&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;ua&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;ds wit&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;h one hand tied behind their backs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Plus, while the men's teams may be spurred to victory by the dancers/cheerleaders, how is it helping the women's teams?  Come on, at least give them some eye candy as well.  Where's the equality?  Of course, I would be less impressed with men out there dancing...what else could the men be doing to encourage the women's teams?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just a rhetorical question to throw out there...please, feel free to contact the Olympic committees with suggestions. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7862633477858522526-3183615829341254733?l=lifes8passions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/feeds/3183615829341254733/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7862633477858522526&amp;postID=3183615829341254733' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/3183615829341254733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/3183615829341254733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/2008/08/im-in-it-for-volleyballand-you.html' title='I&apos;m in it for the volleyball...and you?'/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC5kVe0pbmI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/xoedhLSZdlU/S220/profile+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SJ6Izbn72bI/AAAAAAAAAN8/5moq1Elv5Vk/s72-c/51172357.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7862633477858522526.post-55153093080146184</id><published>2008-08-01T00:53:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-01T01:04:50.573-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Shame on Me</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SJKYtJg1LuI/AAAAAAAAANs/QOfC-bXEsNQ/s1600-h/103_9433.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SJKYtJg1LuI/AAAAAAAAANs/QOfC-bXEsNQ/s200/103_9433.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229410018745724642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;What a bad blogger I am!  It has been weeks since I've said anything...oops.&lt;br /&gt;Well, I am going to make a whole-hearted effort to be more consistent in the future so long as I have something worth while to say.&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say, that does not mean things have not been going on.  I am in a constant battle with Verizon...no need to get into that now or else I'll be too fire up to go to bed and sleep.&lt;br /&gt;But, many good things to come in the future.  I will make an earnest effort to stay more positive because it becomes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SJKZDR6sDdI/AAAAAAAAAN0/VwW0ILgpCa8/s1600-h/103_8667.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SJKZDR6sDdI/AAAAAAAAAN0/VwW0ILgpCa8/s200/103_8667.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229410398958783954" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; draining being negative.&lt;br /&gt;But do you think it is better to be negative than apathetic?  Because you're j&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;ust a waste of space if you go through life apathetic...what's the use of life if you have a lack of emotions or opinions...about anything?  I dislike it when people say they are apathetic about something....I cannot imagine not having some sort of opinion or emotion, whether it's good or bad.  That's just being wishy-washy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Boy, it's been a work-filled week...&lt;br /&gt;Here are some random, up-lifting pictures that I liked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7862633477858522526-55153093080146184?l=lifes8passions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/feeds/55153093080146184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7862633477858522526&amp;postID=55153093080146184' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/55153093080146184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/55153093080146184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/2008/08/shame-on-me.html' title='Shame on Me'/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC5kVe0pbmI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/xoedhLSZdlU/S220/profile+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SJKYtJg1LuI/AAAAAAAAANs/QOfC-bXEsNQ/s72-c/103_9433.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7862633477858522526.post-1341850119465971144</id><published>2008-07-14T00:53:00.010-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-14T01:24:27.123-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Birthday!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SHriFPTE1JI/AAAAAAAAANc/iI_5Y3RX6h0/s1600-h/103_9431.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SHriFPTE1JI/AAAAAAAAANc/iI_5Y3RX6h0/s200/103_9431.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222735297523274898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I have to admit..I love birthdays.  Not just mine, but everyone's birthdays.  I &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;get so excited because I love to plan things.  So when my birthday just rolled around, my friends planned for me &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;a wonderful day.&lt;br /&gt;Jenn and Nicole came and kidnapped me and took me to the National A&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SHrhTnwSgKI/AAAAAAAAANE/5TvG2VoqNg4/s1600-h/103_9437.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SHrhTnwSgKI/AAAAAAAAANE/5TvG2VoqNg4/s200/103_9437.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222734445094797474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;rboretum in Washington, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;D.C. which consists of acres and acres of beautiful lan&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;d&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;scaping&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; and scenery.  I was very surprised...I had no idea D.C. had&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; this to offer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;.  And just like any other museum, it is free and open for all&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; of the public...I suggest &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;e&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;veryone t&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;ake adv&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;antage of this.&lt;br /&gt;And then, after acquainting&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; ourselves with the many streets of D.C. (as I would like to call it, instead of being "lost") my friends took me to a wonderful, delectable French restaurant in Georgetown called "Et Voila".  If heaven serves food, I'm pretty sure it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SHriRNGZX8I/AAAAAAAAANk/UGkCgB6kfNY/s1600-h/better+pic.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SHriRNGZX8I/AAAAAAAAANk/UGkCgB6kfNY/s200/better+pic.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222735503091654594" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; would taste like this...everything we had was perfect and the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;atmosphere and staff could not have been any more welcoming.  I am still thinking of my poached pear....&lt;br /&gt;My friends know me very well....a day walking through exotic gardens and an evening dining on delicious food is my idea of a day well spent.  Cities have so much to offer.  Tomorrow I will blog about what they got me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SHrh0plexOI/AAAAAAAAANU/hNuUaqeo-xU/s1600-h/103_9441.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SHrh0plexOI/AAAAAAAAANU/hNuUaqeo-xU/s200/103_9441.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222735012522018018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;And on my birthday day, my mother cooked a wonderful m&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;eal for grandparents, parents, great-aunt, and me, a tasty chocolate cake, and my parents got me a beautiful Tiffany necklace.  My sister called me to wish me a happy birthday, so it was a lovely day spent with family and dog.  And a certain someone sent me two thoughtful books to familiarize myself with Paris and France.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a very satisfying and heartwarming birthday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7862633477858522526-1341850119465971144?l=lifes8passions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/feeds/1341850119465971144/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7862633477858522526&amp;postID=1341850119465971144' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/1341850119465971144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/1341850119465971144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/2008/07/birthday.html' title='Birthday!'/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC5kVe0pbmI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/xoedhLSZdlU/S220/profile+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SHriFPTE1JI/AAAAAAAAANc/iI_5Y3RX6h0/s72-c/103_9431.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7862633477858522526.post-987669024924236832</id><published>2008-07-06T23:47:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-07T00:15:26.230-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Fourth of July</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Quick post...I am a bit sleepy tonight.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;On July the Fourth, Jenn came with me to a picnic area in the mountains with my family and me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;She baked brownies which she brought with her....which turned out much better tha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;n the cake she and I made for my birthday the last time we went to this picnic area.  Stupid frosting...&lt;br /&gt;I love this picnic area.  It is called Bear Valley.  No bears, though, but perhaps a long time ago.  The most wild creatures Jenn and I came across were drunk men who whooped and hollered at&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; us as we quickly walk&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;ed past them when we went for a very enjoyable and relaxing walk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SHGVU5M-YfI/AAAAAAAAALs/GeILmL8cjz8/s1600-h/tigerlily.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SHGVU5M-YfI/AAAAAAAAALs/GeILmL8cjz8/s200/tigerlily.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220117629284278770" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;In the area which we live i&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;n, there are many beautiful flowers that can be seen growing alongside the roads and in people's gardens that are called Tiger Lilies, or more precisely, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Lilium colum&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;bianum&lt;/span&gt;.  Even though they aren't rare and can be found in m&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;any places growing wild, I find them so&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; beautiful and exotic, especially when they are nestled &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;amongst other green foliage.   I learne&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;d from Wikipedia, though, that when you pick the flower, i&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;t impairs the plant's ability to reproduce...I've picked a lot of these flowers when I was younger...oops.&lt;br /&gt;I also learned from Jenn that if you were lost in the middle of the woods for some reason and you h&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SHGVbV2znWI/AAAAAAAAAL0/ik43DsCYSTA/s1600-h/1781845955_9e3084d887.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SHGVbV2znWI/AAAAAAAAAL0/ik43DsCYSTA/s200/1781845955_9e3084d887.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220117740055141730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;ad no food, you could either eat berries that were dark in color and bumpy (like raspberries) or eat the petals off of a tiger lily.  Curious, I plucked a pet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;al off of a flower growing in a stranger's yard and started to chew it.  Let me tell you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;...I was&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;n'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;t missing out on anything before.  It just tasted like lettuc&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;e with a floral&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; aftertaste.  Not bad, but I'll stick to my salads.  I'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;m sure I also didn't look like the smartest person in the world, munching on a bright orang&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;e flower petal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Aren't things that are bright of color poisonous?  Like Amazon frogs?&lt;br /&gt;Here are some photos of the fireworks my brother-in-law set off at the house and the carnage afterwards...they were quite impressive.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SHGWSaNkYxI/AAAAAAAAAL8/c3LwMjHnJaY/s1600-h/103_9378.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SHGWSaNkYxI/AAAAAAAAAL8/c3LwMjHnJaY/s200/103_9378.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220118686117159698" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SHGXcmYCpnI/AAAAAAAAAMU/IGYKBx5UhhA/s1600-h/103_9384.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SHGXcmYCpnI/AAAAAAAAAMU/IGYKBx5UhhA/s200/103_9384.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220119960692631154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SHGWwwCzR2I/AAAAAAAAAME/7ME2EZmeQy8/s1600-h/103_9402.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SHGWwwCzR2I/AAAAAAAAAME/7ME2EZmeQy8/s200/103_9402.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220119207373653858" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SHGXcS-gv5I/AAAAAAAAAMM/JahQ2IKO-_c/s1600-h/103_9413.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SHGXcS-gv5I/AAAAAAAAAMM/JahQ2IKO-_c/s200/103_9413.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220119955485278098" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SHGXc1b9otI/AAAAAAAAAMc/szWsbx6DoVo/s1600-h/103_9419.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SHGXc1b9otI/AAAAAAAAAMc/szWsbx6DoVo/s200/103_9419.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220119964735611602" border="0" /&gt; &lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SHGWwwCzR2I/AAAAAAAAAME/7ME2EZmeQy8/s1600-h/103_9402.JPG"&gt; &lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7862633477858522526-987669024924236832?l=lifes8passions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/feeds/987669024924236832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7862633477858522526&amp;postID=987669024924236832' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/987669024924236832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/987669024924236832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/2008/07/fourth-of-july.html' title='Fourth of July'/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC5kVe0pbmI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/xoedhLSZdlU/S220/profile+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SHGVU5M-YfI/AAAAAAAAALs/GeILmL8cjz8/s72-c/tigerlily.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7862633477858522526.post-422441693834334343</id><published>2008-07-01T18:09:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-01T18:23:42.596-04:00</updated><title type='text'>One fine day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SGqtoqd8ppI/AAAAAAAAALk/srZ87uzZmWE/s1600-h/103_9345.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SGqtoqd8ppI/AAAAAAAAALk/srZ87uzZmWE/s200/103_9345.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218174032368412306" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Quick blog for today:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Sunday, Nicole and I drove to Princeton to see &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;La &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Boheme&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; on stage and it was simply wonderful.  The stage was lovely and the singers were impressive.&lt;br /&gt;Growing up, I've always listened to classical and opera music, compliments of my mother and now, I find myself addicted.&lt;br /&gt;The campus was gorgeous and the town was quaint, lined with tasty cafes and tempting clothing stores.&lt;br /&gt;Nicole, you could make me a believer...seeing a place like that just toys with the idea of going to grad school more and more.&lt;br /&gt;Sigh, so confusing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7862633477858522526-422441693834334343?l=lifes8passions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/feeds/422441693834334343/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7862633477858522526&amp;postID=422441693834334343' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/422441693834334343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/422441693834334343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/2008/07/one-fine-day.html' title='One fine day'/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC5kVe0pbmI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/xoedhLSZdlU/S220/profile+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SGqtoqd8ppI/AAAAAAAAALk/srZ87uzZmWE/s72-c/103_9345.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7862633477858522526.post-3153872590810110776</id><published>2008-06-29T04:11:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-29T04:49:32.376-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SGdMhExXAJI/AAAAAAAAALc/gltU285x4SU/s1600-h/getsmart-%282%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SGdMhExXAJI/AAAAAAAAALc/gltU285x4SU/s200/getsmart-%282%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217222824432173202" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;It may be a while till I blog again...who knows when the internet is going to be installed at the house...&lt;br /&gt;I went to see "Get Smart" at the movie theater with Jenn tonight and I have not laughed that hard at a movie in a very, very long time!  It was completely hilarious!  It was based on the TV series of the same name which was made to spoof James Bond and they also used the shoe phone in both the TV series and movie.  I loved Anne Hathaway's wardrobe throughout the whole movie.&lt;br /&gt;I've always liked Steve Carell and thought he was very funny, but this...this was one of his bests.  I loved him in "The 40-Year Old Virgin", but this was even better...although it is hard to beat the "man-o-lantern" scene....&lt;br /&gt;I've always loved spy movies.  When growing up, I pretended to be a lot of things (Miss America, chef, surgeon, astronaut, Olympic swimmer), but I always wanted to be a secret agent as well.  I even had a water gun in the shape and style of a .45 pistol (it looked extremely authentic, except for the fact it was yellow, pink, and p&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SGdK3-7GvEI/AAAAAAAAALU/ZYkxAt2UB98/s1600-h/i-JamesBond.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SGdK3-7GvEI/AAAAAAAAALU/ZYkxAt2UB98/s200/i-JamesBond.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217221018976173122" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;lastic) and would hide behind trees and soak the dog and parents with it.  Perhaps I owe it to all of the James Bond movies I've watched (I've seen every single one!).  Bond could kick anyone's butt and still&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; look very dashing and calm.  I had a professor who was very surprised and impressed with my James Bond knowledge...I think that's why I got an A in the class!&lt;br /&gt;Jenn:  don't forget to look up "deadpanned".  Good thing we never had this word during Taboo...&lt;br /&gt;I was telling Jenn that Steve Carell had a very deadpanned way of delivering humor and she looked at me puzzled and asked,  "What does that mean?"...I swear it's a word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7862633477858522526-3153872590810110776?l=lifes8passions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/feeds/3153872590810110776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7862633477858522526&amp;postID=3153872590810110776' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/3153872590810110776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/3153872590810110776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/2008/06/it-may-be-while-till-i-blog-again.html' title=''/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC5kVe0pbmI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/xoedhLSZdlU/S220/profile+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SGdMhExXAJI/AAAAAAAAALc/gltU285x4SU/s72-c/getsmart-%282%29.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7862633477858522526.post-3775001040720913792</id><published>2008-06-28T10:52:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-28T11:02:31.490-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Oops!  I've been a bad blogger!  I just moved and there's no internet yet because Verizon can't get their lazy asses to our house to install anything....perhaps I need to go visit them and lay down the law...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, so yes, I am now in a new place and once I have it looking the way I want it, I will post pictures of my room.  I need to get curtains (just have blinds right now) and nail up some white shelves that would stand out against the blue walls, and a few other things.  Slowly but surely...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SGZR9Y571nI/AAAAAAAAALM/KxPjfqE-S-c/s1600-h/103_9263.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SGZR9Y571nI/AAAAAAAAALM/KxPjfqE-S-c/s200/103_9263.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216947333454616178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A certain friend of mine has gotten engaged!  And the ring is gorgeous.  She is a very lucky girl.  But now, it is time to do some planning, but so much has been done already, she will be bored in half a year.  Jenn and I took her out for a little wine and dessert to celebrate the great occasion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Oh, another complaint about Verizon...they sold me a phone with a horrible battery life.  Apparently, Motorola is notorious for wasting battery life...I should have just stuck with Samsung.  Not a good move, Emily...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss my Love...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7862633477858522526-3775001040720913792?l=lifes8passions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/feeds/3775001040720913792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7862633477858522526&amp;postID=3775001040720913792' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/3775001040720913792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/3775001040720913792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/2008/06/oops-ive-been-bad-blogger-i-just-moved.html' title=''/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC5kVe0pbmI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/xoedhLSZdlU/S220/profile+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SGZR9Y571nI/AAAAAAAAALM/KxPjfqE-S-c/s72-c/103_9263.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7862633477858522526.post-3042475898897287522</id><published>2008-05-30T22:02:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-30T23:16:35.710-04:00</updated><title type='text'>No nuts here</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SEDB2I_LpyI/AAAAAAAAAK8/0II7iOXBi0o/s1600-h/2007_01_spellingbee.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SEDB2I_LpyI/AAAAAAAAAK8/0II7iOXBi0o/s200/2007_01_spellingbee.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5206374305109878562" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Some kids are absolutely amazing...I happened to be watching on the 2008 Scripps National Spelling Bee taking place in Washington, D.C. and I couldn't believe the words these kids were spelling!  There was so much pressure on these kids, I was surprised they weren't passing out on stage.  I kept thinking to myself, "I wonder how in conversation I could ever use that word?"  One boy was particularly funny, but&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; he didn't try on purpose...he was given a word "numnah" &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt;A pad that goes under the saddle to keep the saddle clean and to cushion the horse's or pony's back&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  Rather surprised and skeptically with his eyebrows raised, he repeated what he thought they said to him...."Numb-nuts?"  As soon as the words came out of his mouth, the whole crowd erupted with laughter and the poor boy just stood up there, just as confused as can be.  Who would ever expect a boy to say on national TV "numb-nuts"?&lt;br /&gt;Once the commentator repeated the pronunciation, the boy exclaims, "OH!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;  Numnah!  What a relief....!"  Turns out he was the kid who ended up winning the bee.&lt;br /&gt;Many of the words were from other languages as well.  Many of the words were French and German which confused and ruined most of the kids.  The boy that won had one French word that he completely butchered and, again, people started laughing.&lt;br /&gt;Oh, today I was at Starbucks getting an iced coffee and a woman in front of me started getting snappy at the poor girl making her caffeine fix.  Appare&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SEDC6I_LpzI/AAAAAAAAALE/eIrqF1n-GpU/s1600-h/2132507.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SEDC6I_LpzI/AAAAAAAAALE/eIrqF1n-GpU/s200/2132507.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5206375473340983090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;ntly, the girl was new to Starbucks and just learning how to make the drinks and sh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;e forgot to put whipped crea&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;m or something on the woman's drink and the customer just went berserk.  The poor girl, looking so chagrined, profusely kept apologizing and you know what the woman said?  "Yeah, well, just don't do it again."  I swear, I almost smacked that woman..what kind of jerk says that?  Sometimes, the customer is not always right....&lt;br /&gt;Then, the woman looked over at me and was about ready to make another snide comment, but when she saw my stern glare and glean of disgust in my eyes, she shut her mouth, looked me up and down, and turned back to her drinks.&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, that's right...just keep moving on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7862633477858522526-3042475898897287522?l=lifes8passions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/feeds/3042475898897287522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7862633477858522526&amp;postID=3042475898897287522' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/3042475898897287522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/3042475898897287522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/2008/05/no-nuts-here.html' title='No nuts here'/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC5kVe0pbmI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/xoedhLSZdlU/S220/profile+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SEDB2I_LpyI/AAAAAAAAAK8/0II7iOXBi0o/s72-c/2007_01_spellingbee.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7862633477858522526.post-3425415400325275939</id><published>2008-05-26T23:40:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-27T01:13:44.032-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Memorial Day...a time of remembrance</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SDuYcY_LpxI/AAAAAAAAAK0/CA6Esdogf40/s1600-h/103_8527.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SDuYcY_LpxI/AAAAAAAAAK0/CA6Esdogf40/s200/103_8527.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5204921407867954962" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Monday was Memorial Day and because my family and I didn't do anything special (I would have liked going to Arlington Cemetery), I went with Jenn and her, ah, date to the parade that took place through Shippensburg.  I was pleasantly surprised seeing how many people came to the parade...I knew the Halloween parade in the fall is always a hit, but despite the lack of candy being thrown to little children, a good number of people and children showed up.&lt;br /&gt;When veterans would drive by in brand new SUVs (something rather funny with that) and antique Model-T Fords, they would wave to the crowd, especially the little children.  What happened when Jenn, her date, and I would wave?  Nothing!  No smile, no wave...I felt a bit cheated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SDuM4Y_LpwI/AAAAAAAAAKs/mYOuDXWoSeo/s1600-h/103_8506.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SDuM4Y_LpwI/AAAAAAAAAKs/mYOuDXWoSeo/s200/103_8506.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5204908694764758786" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Veterans from WWII (so few left) and I believe Vietnam War walked in the parade, as well as Ladies Auxiliary, various military groups, Scouts, Boy Scouts, Girl Scouts, firemen, dogs, high school and middle school marching bands, little children in daycare, motorcycle riders, and people dressed up in Civil War-era uniforms and clothes with drummer boys.&lt;br /&gt;The day was lovely and perfect parade weather...a very rare event when it comes to Shippensburg events.  Thank you for all the veterans and soldiers out there who have served and still serve for the life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness that the United States of America proudly stands for!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7862633477858522526-3425415400325275939?l=lifes8passions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/feeds/3425415400325275939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7862633477858522526&amp;postID=3425415400325275939' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/3425415400325275939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/3425415400325275939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/2008/05/memorial-daya-time-of-remembrance.html' title='Memorial Day...a time of remembrance'/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC5kVe0pbmI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/xoedhLSZdlU/S220/profile+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SDuYcY_LpxI/AAAAAAAAAK0/CA6Esdogf40/s72-c/103_8527.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7862633477858522526.post-5559899944678264150</id><published>2008-05-18T01:16:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-18T02:09:05.579-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Resistance is futile</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC_D1-0pboI/AAAAAAAAAKM/0NRGGe635m8/s1600-h/103_8405.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC_D1-0pboI/AAAAAAAAAKM/0NRGGe635m8/s200/103_8405.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5201591426800512642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Today, I painted my new room with my future housemate...the shade I chose for the walls was called "Moon Shade", a very nice dark blue with just a light hint of grey.  I love the color and it matches well with the white ceiling and trim at the bottom.  It was a good bonding time...and I learned the finer points of painting.  Later, we sat outside on the porch, watch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;ing &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;her&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC_EDe0pbqI/AAAAAAAAAKc/3w0b1ee42jQ/s1600-h/N_25915224_1592238.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC_EDe0pbqI/AAAAAAAAAKc/3w0b1ee42jQ/s200/N_25915224_1592238.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5201591658728746658" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;dog run around chasing tennis balls and trying to sit on us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday when I went with Jenn and Tami shopping, I fatally walked into the Samsonite store because my luggage I took to Europe last summer broke a wheel.  At first, I was only&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; going in to look around and to get a faint idea what kind of luggage I would like in the future.  Then, I turned around and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;saw these pieces, but in a light la&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC_EDe0pbpI/AAAAAAAAAKU/sHd1PbDYOgI/s1600-h/216FWJYX0ZL__AA160_.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC_EDe0pbpI/AAAAAAAAAKU/sHd1PbDYOgI/s200/216FWJYX0ZL__AA160_.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5201591658728746642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;vender color...and&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; it w&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;as love at&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; first sight.  They were on sale, but I was still stuck on the fence as to w&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;h&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;ether or not to buy them.  It took convincing from Jenn, Tami, the seller, my logic,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; and an ext&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;ra 25% off....and I bought it!  I got the 24 inch and the tote bag...they're so cute!  It was fate....they were calling to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7862633477858522526-5559899944678264150?l=lifes8passions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/feeds/5559899944678264150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7862633477858522526&amp;postID=5559899944678264150' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/5559899944678264150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/5559899944678264150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/2008/05/resistance-is-futile.html' title='Resistance is futile'/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC5kVe0pbmI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/xoedhLSZdlU/S220/profile+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC_D1-0pboI/AAAAAAAAAKM/0NRGGe635m8/s72-c/103_8405.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7862633477858522526.post-8033120094073048218</id><published>2008-05-17T00:56:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-17T01:34:19.963-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC5sN-0pbnI/AAAAAAAAAKE/Y5ymFd7f2EA/s1600-h/51WX7K1S9CL.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC5sN-0pbnI/AAAAAAAAAKE/Y5ymFd7f2EA/s200/51WX7K1S9CL.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5201213607117418098" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Brrrrrr...definitely did not feel like May today...more like March.&lt;br /&gt;I'm thinking that within the next year, I want to try to find and join a book club somewhere in Frederick.  Maybe a book club that focuses on some of the classics like Hemingway, Faulkner, Steinbeck, etc.  Maybe a little bit a poetry....Oh!  Maybe that should be my goal.  To read more poetry and expand on my limited knowledge of poems.  Honestly, sometimes I just don't get certain poems, especially the more modern ones.  Like Jenn's.  Or Nicole's.  Jenn, I really loved your flamenco dancer one...please email it to me so I can read it again.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes when I read poems, the meaning behind them are completely lost on me and I end up saying "Huh?" at the end, which is very frustrating.  What is even more frustrating is when I re-read the poems over and over again and still!  No understand whatsoever.....&lt;br /&gt;Emily Dickinson can really puzzle me..sometimes I understand the point, but the majority...I just shake my head.  She's not my favorite poet...&lt;br /&gt;Most people know I like having happy endings at the end of books I read.  In fact, I make sure I am guaranteed a happy ending...before I buy a book, I skip to the end and read the ending quickly to see if if it seems happy.  Who wants to read a book that has a sad conclusion?  For me, reading is a way to escape reality...and reality is never fair nor happy.  So....why in the world do I want to read something that is too much like reality?  Hence, I read the ends of books before I read the beginnings.&lt;br /&gt;All to ensure my satisfaction and happiness that everything turns out okay for the good guys in the book.&lt;br /&gt;I must admit, though, there are a few books that I enjoy reading which don't end all happy and giddy and sunshiney.  There are always exceptions to every rule.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7862633477858522526-8033120094073048218?l=lifes8passions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/feeds/8033120094073048218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7862633477858522526&amp;postID=8033120094073048218' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/8033120094073048218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/8033120094073048218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/2008/05/brrrrrr.html' title=''/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC5kVe0pbmI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/xoedhLSZdlU/S220/profile+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC5sN-0pbnI/AAAAAAAAAKE/Y5ymFd7f2EA/s72-c/51WX7K1S9CL.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7862633477858522526.post-2547621957668944591</id><published>2008-05-16T00:46:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-16T01:12:55.240-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Goodbye Winter!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC0XYe0pblI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/Wg7sX5x5m1Q/s1600-h/peachbuds_sm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC0XYe0pblI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/Wg7sX5x5m1Q/s200/peachbuds_sm.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200838854040972882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I think it is safe to say that winter is over!  The weather here has been incredibly nice and warm...I feel as though we are being spoiled.  Oh, darn...I just checked the weather...I seemed to have jinxed the weather for the next few days.  Rain, rain, and a little more...rain.  That's okay....our garden needs rain.&lt;br /&gt;The other day, I was walking around Frederick and I remember a year or so ago, I had walked into one store and bought very tasty hard peach candy that actually tasted like peaches!  So I hunted down this very same store, strolled in, and lo and behold, they still had the same candy!  Delicious....I swiped it off the shelf and promptly bought it.&lt;br /&gt;Mmmmmmm....my sister eats cupcakes...I hunt down hard candy, gum, and dark chocolate.&lt;br /&gt;I'm thinking of someone special&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7862633477858522526-2547621957668944591?l=lifes8passions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/feeds/2547621957668944591/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7862633477858522526&amp;postID=2547621957668944591' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/2547621957668944591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/2547621957668944591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/2008/05/goodbye-winter.html' title='Goodbye Winter!'/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC5kVe0pbmI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/xoedhLSZdlU/S220/profile+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC0XYe0pblI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/Wg7sX5x5m1Q/s72-c/peachbuds_sm.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7862633477858522526.post-820727860464303875</id><published>2008-05-15T00:48:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-15T02:16:52.443-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Music is a Passion</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SCvT9O0pbkI/AAAAAAAAAJs/2Yno6GAFmlI/s1600-h/_Bee_G_FurEli_EMi%5B1%5D.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SCvT9O0pbkI/AAAAAAAAAJs/2Yno6GAFmlI/s200/_Bee_G_FurEli_EMi%5B1%5D.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200483243633765954" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Music can unlock a person's soul...their inner self.  I think a person's tastes in music can describe their very essence.  Sometimes, I judge a person not just on how they present themselves (this method does not always hold true), but I also judge a person based on their music selection.  This may actually be a better method of determining a personality because if there is one thing people are not afraid to do, it is to freely enjoy whatever music they want (unless you are in a country that bands certain categories of music...which still shreds light &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;on a person's characteristics).  Listening to music is a passion...music is a form of self-expression.  We listen to music when we're sad, upset, distressed, ela&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;ted, angry...and there are millions of different forms of music to fit whatever emotion we are experiencing because, chances are, someone else in the world at some moment in time felt the exact same way and decided to translate their emotions into music...perhaps as a form of catharsis.&lt;br /&gt;I love playing the piano...and it is a shame I don't play more often.  When I move, I can't take it with me...probably not until I have a place of my own.  It will be hard not to have it.  My favorite songs to play in no particular order?  Christmas songs, Broadway, opera, and classical (a lot of Beethoven).  Especially with Beethoven...the man was deaf!  And he created the most amazing music with such raw energy and power that time will never forget.  Years from now, people won't recall any horrible Britney Spears song, but once "Moonlight Sonata" is played...there is no way anyone could not recognize t&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SCvQne0pbhI/AAAAAAAAAJU/kUIL9KP7UiI/s1600-h/pavarotti020204%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SCvQne0pbhI/AAAAAAAAAJU/kUIL9KP7UiI/s200/pavarotti020204%5B1%5D.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200479571436727826" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;hat.&lt;br /&gt;Other &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;beautiful songs that will not be lost in history:  "Nessun Dorma" and "O Mio Babbino Caro", both by Puccini in two different operas.  When you hear a recording of Pavarotti sing "Nessun Dorma", you practically melt at the sheer power behind his words.&lt;br /&gt;I find that a majority of modern American songs lack a deeper meaning...most of the emotions involved are too superficial and too physical.  When Jenn and I were in Rome last summer with other students, we were eating in a re&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SCvSJO0pbiI/AAAAAAAAAJc/N8oNtSDyTvc/s1600-h/O%2520Mio%2520Babbino%2520Caro%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SCvSJO0pbiI/AAAAAAAAAJc/N8oNtSDyTvc/s200/O%2520Mio%2520Babbino%2520Caro%5B1%5D.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200481250768940578" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;staurant and there was a man and a woman si&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;nging opera pieces while we were waiting for our food and I had asked the woman to sing "O Mio Babbino Caro."  And even though we weren't in the Metropolitan Opera and she wasn't &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Joan Sutherland or Maria Callas, the purity and innocence of the song reduced me to tears...very embarrassing, but very gratifying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Ed il mio bacio scioglierà il silenzio che ti fa mia!"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;"And my kiss will dissolve the silence that makes you mine!"-"Nessun Dorma" from Turnadot&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7862633477858522526-820727860464303875?l=lifes8passions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/feeds/820727860464303875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7862633477858522526&amp;postID=820727860464303875' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/820727860464303875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/820727860464303875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/2008/05/music-is-passion.html' title='Music is a Passion'/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC5kVe0pbmI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/xoedhLSZdlU/S220/profile+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SCvT9O0pbkI/AAAAAAAAAJs/2Yno6GAFmlI/s72-c/_Bee_G_FurEli_EMi%5B1%5D.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7862633477858522526.post-2803784959812806960</id><published>2008-05-13T23:26:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-14T00:14:56.552-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Free Time</title><content type='html'>You know, when you are the most busiest you wish to just do nothing...when you actually do nothing, then you end up as bored as can be.&lt;br /&gt;Today, I went for a walk through Shippensburg with Jenn and my dog, Wally, after grabbing some iced tea at a local coffee shop.  What an afternoon.  My dog cannot understand that it is not polite for him to walk up people's porches or to urinate on church grass.  I felt like one of those mother's who strap a harness on their child and attach a leash to them (which, by the way, I find so dehumanizing....yes, it made be easier than way, but come on...does it really take that much effort to hold your child's hand?)&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, towards the end, Wally and I followed Jenn into this wooded area to the duck pond.  It wasn't until we were well on our way that I realized to myself, "I am following someone who cannot navigate to save our lives...."&lt;br /&gt;But, surprise!  All three of us came out alive.  All in all, it was a nice, 2-hour walk.&lt;br /&gt;On Sunday, my family and I celebrated my sister's birthday and my brother-in-law and mother managed to shove 35 candles onto her birthday cake.  My sister does not look her age, so no one on the street would ever be able to tell she was 35 years old.  Oops...did I give that away?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7862633477858522526-2803784959812806960?l=lifes8passions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/feeds/2803784959812806960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7862633477858522526&amp;postID=2803784959812806960' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/2803784959812806960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/2803784959812806960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/2008/05/free-time.html' title='Free Time'/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC5kVe0pbmI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/xoedhLSZdlU/S220/profile+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7862633477858522526.post-3514665439153879394</id><published>2008-05-12T04:26:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-12T05:58:49.990-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Graduation</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SCgR0-0pbfI/AAAAAAAAAJE/T_zANOgksvM/s1600-h/101_0091.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199425371713924594" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SCgR0-0pbfI/AAAAAAAAAJE/T_zANOgksvM/s200/101_0091.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Oh my, what tulmutuous times....I graduated, Mother's Day and my sister's birthday was on Sunday, and I dearly, strongly miss someone special in my life, especially during graduation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SCgR0e0pbeI/AAAAAAAAAI8/6hzOT9wU3YU/s1600-h/101_0075.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199425363123989986" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SCgR0e0pbeI/AAAAAAAAAI8/6hzOT9wU3YU/s200/101_0075.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Saturday was the final conclusion to a rather large and important chapter in my life...I still don't believe I fully feel it's concequences. I believe that because i had finals right up to the day before graduation, it doesn't feel as emotionally over-the-top as graduating from high school. Plus, with Facebook, I don't feel I will totally be separated from my colleges friends (and some professors!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SCgUOO0pbgI/AAAAAAAAAJM/WNEM_NQEe9o/s1600-h/100_5921.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199428004528877058" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SCgUOO0pbgI/AAAAAAAAAJM/WNEM_NQEe9o/s200/100_5921.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;My parents, paternal grandparents, sister, and brother-in-law came to the special event that was held inside Heiges Field House due to the earlier rain during the day. Sigh...I was so afraid it was going to be high school graduation all over again..hot, sticky, and humid. To my great surprise, the weather was actually decent, even pleasant! Good thing...got some good pictures in...we were some of the last people there, taking pictures, as recent graduates drove by, honking their horns and yelling out the windows. With my sister, being a professional photographer, it was quite the photoshoot. There was a lot of, "Aaron! Hold this camera! Aaron! Don't turn the cameras off!" hahaha...., but, they got some really good pictures taken.  I wanted to get pictures with my professors who had showed up in the graduate gowns, looking all smart and sophisticated..but, alas, they either ran out the door when it was done, or sat in their robing room and talked.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;The actually ceremony part even went by quickly, calling out our names and hauling us up to shake hands and to hand us our fake diplomas like cattle.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;All in all, it was a very nice ceremony and event. Afterwards, my family went out to the Outback Steakhouse where it was packed full, but thank goodn&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SCgDie0pbcI/AAAAAAAAAIs/ngOOO9yoJa0/s1600-h/102_9301.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199409660723555778" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SCgDie0pbcI/AAAAAAAAAIs/ngOOO9yoJa0/s200/102_9301.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;ess my father made reservations..good job Dad...I didn't have to remind him! My grandparents had given me money and a new down comforter, my parents are going to get me a new bed, but the biggest surprise of all was the beautiful silver Tiffany's bracelet Jenny and Aaron gave me! Ahhhhhh!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Now, what to do with this piece of paper I have worked hard for for 4 years? Hmmm..build a fire? Nah...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7862633477858522526-3514665439153879394?l=lifes8passions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/feeds/3514665439153879394/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7862633477858522526&amp;postID=3514665439153879394' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/3514665439153879394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/3514665439153879394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/2008/05/graduation.html' title='Graduation'/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC5kVe0pbmI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/xoedhLSZdlU/S220/profile+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SCgR0-0pbfI/AAAAAAAAAJE/T_zANOgksvM/s72-c/101_0091.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7862633477858522526.post-1953324369910884074</id><published>2008-05-07T19:27:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-07T19:30:30.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;My love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still here for you and love you...I will still wait till we are back together again.  It will be hard, but so well worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't give up,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7862633477858522526-1953324369910884074?l=lifes8passions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/feeds/1953324369910884074/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7862633477858522526&amp;postID=1953324369910884074' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/1953324369910884074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/1953324369910884074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/2008/05/my-love-im-still-here-for-you-and-love.html' title=''/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC5kVe0pbmI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/xoedhLSZdlU/S220/profile+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7862633477858522526.post-1464688919369623418</id><published>2008-05-05T16:48:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-05T16:49:41.531-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Hey,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you're reading this (you know who you are)...I'll still wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Emily&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7862633477858522526-1464688919369623418?l=lifes8passions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/feeds/1464688919369623418/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7862633477858522526&amp;postID=1464688919369623418' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/1464688919369623418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/1464688919369623418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/2008/05/hey-if-youre-reading-this-you-know-who.html' title=''/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC5kVe0pbmI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/xoedhLSZdlU/S220/profile+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7862633477858522526.post-5742493019744462622</id><published>2008-05-04T23:40:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-05T00:30:10.420-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Staying fit and healthy...one carrot at a time...while preventing obesity and the onset of diabetes!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SB6KqmInJAI/AAAAAAAAAIk/2lQAGAype68/s1600-h/100_9288.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SB6KqmInJAI/AAAAAAAAAIk/2lQAGAype68/s200/100_9288.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196743484427936770" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I have come to the conclusion that the best time to take outside pictures is in the late afternoon/evening.  This is the best time to be outside...well, until summer comes and the mosquitoes start eating you.  But even then, those pesky bugs can't ruin my evenings outside.&lt;br /&gt;Knowing that I had a week of studying ahead of me, I created a plan of action.  Usually as I study, I tend to&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; find something to snack on...nothing big or fancy, just something to chew on because, as science proves, stimulating your facial muscles (especially your mouth) increases your ability to learn and retain knowledge.  Mostly, I chew gum, but especially in the afternoons or late nights, I grow a bit hungry and tend to gravitate towards food.  So!  Due to recent admonishes from a certain someone about how Americans eat too many potato chips and junk food (which, I agree) I made sure I stocked the refrigerator with vegetables and fruits so that instead of reaching for the bags of pretzels and chips my family is fond of, I grab a bag of something healthy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i191.photobucket.com/albums/z53/MDA2007/diabetes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://i191.photobucket.com/albums/z53/MDA2007/diabetes.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;For example, I tend to eat carrots when I'm hungry so I made sure I had plenty of bags of baby carrots.  They're crunchy, light, and nice to just nibble on while scanning my notes on the shamans of the Amazon and how the American&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; government basically threw all ethics out the window during the Tuskegee Experiment when observing African-American men with syphilis.  I also have a drawer in the fridge full of tangerines to keep my vitamin C levels up.  Again, easy to access, easy to eat.&lt;br /&gt;I realize that even though my family has pretty good metabolic genes, if I don't watch what I eat, my body will pay for it later.  Which will then equal higher health care bills.  And earlier death.  And poor eating habits for my prosperity.  However, the whole situation is so ironic:  to eat healthy foods, you must pay more which is why lower-income people are at a greater risk for obesity and diabetes....cheaper, processed foods are loaded with too many carbs, calories, sugars, and god knows what kind of chemicals.  Best thing to do:  grow a garden.  If you live in the city, check to see if there is a community-based garden area around.&lt;br /&gt;I shall step off my soap box for now.  I will complain about the increase of obesity and diabetes later....my expertise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7862633477858522526-5742493019744462622?l=lifes8passions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/feeds/5742493019744462622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7862633477858522526&amp;postID=5742493019744462622' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/5742493019744462622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/5742493019744462622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/2008/05/staying-fit-and-healthyand-happy-and.html' title='Staying fit and healthy...one carrot at a time...while preventing obesity and the onset of diabetes!'/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC5kVe0pbmI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/xoedhLSZdlU/S220/profile+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SB6KqmInJAI/AAAAAAAAAIk/2lQAGAype68/s72-c/100_9288.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7862633477858522526.post-8214595557630736875</id><published>2008-05-04T00:15:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-04T01:40:08.115-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Dreams....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SB1IJ2InI-I/AAAAAAAAAIU/axjM6ZS--M8/s1600-h/100_9286.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SB1IJ2InI-I/AAAAAAAAAIU/axjM6ZS--M8/s200/100_9286.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196388879043077090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Today, I've had some pretty weird dreams...some of which were truly scary.  As I was on the couch while my father was watching Nascar, I fell asleep this evening and had some pretty vivid dreams.  I cannot remember the first one, but I remember the others that followed quite well.  The first started off with my uncle and I driving home from a fair and all of a sudden, either a terrible storm or snow storm opened up right over our car, creating snow or water several feet &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;high around the car.  Then, there was a terrible loud crack through the air and when I got home, I saw that lightening hit one of the pine trees my father planted when they first built the house.  As it grew (this part is true) it grew rather crooked, but my father never cut it down.  So in the dream, when the lightening hit it, it pretty much burnt most of the tree off.  I told my father inside the house, he came out to look at it, and he was devastated for some reason.  He went back into the house while I stood outside (in the dream, the pine tree was right next to the house when in reality, it's across the driveway from the house).  I reached up to the pine tree and I noticed that already new buds and needles were forming.&lt;br /&gt;When I went into the house, I must have been hearing on the radio about how a woman caught a criminal on the loose because her cat was taking meat out to the criminal who was hiding in her bushes, so she told the police.  I turned around and someone was coming into my house, through the basement door, so I started to kick and punch.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SB1LSmInI_I/AAAAAAAAAIc/vHgRse_jbvo/s1600-h/100_9276.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SB1LSmInI_I/AAAAAAAAAIc/vHgRse_jbvo/s200/100_9276.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196392327901815794" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I cannot remember the next dream, but the dream afterwards scared me and my dog.  I dreamed once again I was inside the house, next to the basement door (which is actually next to my room) and it starts off that I'm hearing the story of the woman, her cat, and the criminal outside her house, but then in the dream, I turn into the woman and I'm talking to the police on the phone, counting off on my fingers how many nights my cat has been taking food outside and as I realize it is the same number of days that the prisoner has been on the loose, I look up and he's staring...grinning horribly at me.  In the dream, I screamed and ran into my room, grabbed a vase, and began to swung as hard as I could at the man.  This is when I woke up, literally shrieking and almost rolled off the couch because I'm wildly waving my arms.  The dog jumps up and my father asks, "What are you screaming about?".....uhhhh, a dream?  Apparently, sometime during my dreaming, I also took my sweatshirt off....must have been hot.&lt;br /&gt;I have concluded that I dreamed these things for a number of reasons or a combination:&lt;br /&gt;1.  I ate pizza that day&lt;br /&gt;2.  I am on cold medicine&lt;br /&gt;3.  I wasn't watching Nascar, but in the same room with it on TV&lt;br /&gt;4.  I was watching on the news about the bad weather around the nation&lt;br /&gt;5.  Feeling very emotional today...I missed someone...a lot&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, I'm feeling a bit apprehensive and nervous after my dreams.  Just a few weeks ago, I dreamed Hillary would win the PA primary and this was during the period that everyone was all Obama gung-ho.  A few years ago, I dreamt of horrible tornadoes and then a few days later, the Midwest was hit with tornadoes.  Now, I'm not saying I'm a psychic in my dreams, but it certainly makes me nervous...&lt;br /&gt;I went onto a dream interpreting website, just for kicks...and the closest thing I could find to my dreams was this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 204);font-family:Arial;" &gt;"To       see a falling tree in your dream, indicates that you are off balance and       out of sync. You are off track and headed in the wrong direction."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;It's kind of funny..in my medical anthropology class, we're discussing shamans and how they use dreams to "cure" physical and spiritual ailments within their tribes.  Perhaps one of them can help me.  Or maybe I should not eat pizza and sleep in front of Nascar.&lt;br /&gt;(Just for clarification:  I'm not a fan of Nascar...I was just sleeping in front of it as it was on the TV...the couch in the living room is comfy)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7862633477858522526-8214595557630736875?l=lifes8passions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/feeds/8214595557630736875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7862633477858522526&amp;postID=8214595557630736875' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/8214595557630736875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/8214595557630736875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/2008/05/dreams.html' title='Dreams....'/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC5kVe0pbmI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/xoedhLSZdlU/S220/profile+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SB1IJ2InI-I/AAAAAAAAAIU/axjM6ZS--M8/s72-c/100_9286.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7862633477858522526.post-4730480929050295844</id><published>2008-04-30T18:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-30T18:52:57.969-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Senioritis....a bad infection</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Senioritis:  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;table id="entries" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;                  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;                   &lt;td class="text" colspan="2"&gt;                     &lt;div class="definition"&gt;"noun. A crippling disease that strikes high school/college seniors. Symptoms include: laziness, an over-excessive wearing of track pants, old athletic shirts, sweatpants, athletic shorts, and sweatshirts. Also features a lack of studying, repeated absences, and a generally dismissive attitude. The only known cure is a phenomenon known as graduation &lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;                    &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Well, I'm not exactly this extreme (hate sweatpants and I'm still making sure I look well-kept...and I'm still keeping on track with my work).&lt;br /&gt;I really didn't think I could be affected by "senioritis"...I thought I was immune to it because I always thought of myself as a hard-worker (or, at least, trying to be one).  But, like many of my other fellow graduating seniors, I am finding myself being pulled into other directions other than my work and studying.  It's so nice outside...I have to pull the curtains shut in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;my room so that my eyes don't start wandering outside.  Plus, there are some things of greater importance than this stuff professors like to call "work".  Some things are more pertinent and mean so much more...&lt;br /&gt;When I came home yesterday, I had these waiting for me.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SBj202InI9I/AAAAAAAAAIM/CPCZoR7v-x0/s1600-h/100_9268.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SBj202InI9I/AAAAAAAAAIM/CPCZoR7v-x0/s200/100_9268.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195173557917131730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;My grandmother has a couple of lilac bushes and she always remembers, every year, how much I love lilacs so she cut a few branches off and brought down for me.  They smell absolutely wonderful!  And the purple shades brighten me up.  And I like how they look so squishy and lush.  I bet if you laid in a bed full of them, it would be so soft.  I like burying my face in the little tiny blooms and breathing in deeply till the smell fills my lungs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7862633477858522526-4730480929050295844?l=lifes8passions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/feeds/4730480929050295844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7862633477858522526&amp;postID=4730480929050295844' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/4730480929050295844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/4730480929050295844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/2008/04/senioritisa-bad-infection.html' title='Senioritis....a bad infection'/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC5kVe0pbmI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/xoedhLSZdlU/S220/profile+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SBj202InI9I/AAAAAAAAAIM/CPCZoR7v-x0/s72-c/100_9268.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7862633477858522526.post-8518442338320747347</id><published>2008-04-26T20:22:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-26T20:48:01.569-04:00</updated><title type='text'>More than just a favorite number....</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Well, I can say for certain now that the number 8 is, indeed, my favorite and lucky number....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193719982070375362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SBPMzmInI8I/AAAAAAAAAIE/MQno2pIoQ1g/s200/wx_storm2_0307%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I was driving home from Maryland on Saturday and once I hit the PA border, it got incredibly dark. Me+car+rain=bad. I hate storms to begin with, but driving in one...I was practically gripping the steering wheel. From past experience, I was smart enough to pull off at the Marion exit where I proceeded to find a gravel parking lot where there was another car waiting out the storm. That's when it really poured and I decided that I would probably be there for a while...luckily, I had some work with me. After about 20 minutes, I realized that slowly the parking lot was because flooded and turning into a good sized lake. But the rain was not abating! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;After a while, I decided that driving in the rain while it was still light out was better than driving in the rain in the dark...as soon as I hit I-81, it rained harder...I guess I was driving right into the storm.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Sometimes, I like watching storms...they can be very beautiful and inspiring. But there are times when they make me more than just a little apprehensive. When I was a child, anytime there was a storm, I would think a tornado would come and I would start reading my book about storms and tornados...I was a paranoid child. I will always remember how one time, during a very bad storm, I was so frightened that I went to my room, knelt beside my bed, and prayed fervently for God to stop the storm. Of course, all storms stop sooner or later, but when it did stop, I felt God did it just for me and even now, it re-establishes my faith in His power and that He actually hears me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;That is what you call a child-like faith.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7862633477858522526-8518442338320747347?l=lifes8passions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/feeds/8518442338320747347/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7862633477858522526&amp;postID=8518442338320747347' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/8518442338320747347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/8518442338320747347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/2008/04/more-than-just-favorite-number.html' title='More than just a favorite number....'/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC5kVe0pbmI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/xoedhLSZdlU/S220/profile+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SBPMzmInI8I/AAAAAAAAAIE/MQno2pIoQ1g/s72-c/wx_storm2_0307%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7862633477858522526.post-1220160288505941167</id><published>2008-04-24T22:47:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-24T23:33:42.943-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy and Sad..again</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I got my mother and grandmother early Mother's Day gifts because, well, the presents were too pretty to just hold back and it's nice to enjoy them now.  I gave my mother a hanging basket of black-eyed susans vine and my grandmother a hanging basket of...I don't know what t&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;hey are exactly, but each bell-shaped flower &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;looks like it has multiple blooms inside of it of pinks and purples.  I think she'll like it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SBFMcWInI6I/AAAAAAAAAH0/e90SH8CC2vE/s1600-h/100_9229.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SBFMcWInI6I/AAAAAAAAAH0/e90SH8CC2vE/s200/100_9229.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193015895196640162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I love flowers...I grew up with flowers and they always make me happy.  I think that if a man is ever stuck on what to buy his&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; sweetheart, flowers are always a good choice (not the only best choice, but a good choice).  Flowers always cheer me up and I like looking out the dining room window and seeing the flower garden.  Some day, I wish to have a house of my own with an extensive flower garden to work in and relax.  No use in having a flower garden and getting someone else to take care of it for you...what's the point then?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SBFQXWInI7I/AAAAAAAAAH8/7o13F-o5lDc/s1600-h/100_9178.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SBFQXWInI7I/AAAAAAAAAH8/7o13F-o5lDc/s200/100_9178.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193020207343805362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;On another note....now my maternal grandfather had a heart attack as he was sitting by the bedside of my grandmother who is in the hospital.  They said if he wasn't in the hospital which is focused on heart treatment, he would have died.  I called that a work of God...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7862633477858522526-1220160288505941167?l=lifes8passions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/feeds/1220160288505941167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7862633477858522526&amp;postID=1220160288505941167' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/1220160288505941167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/1220160288505941167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/2008/04/happy-and-sadagain.html' title='Happy and Sad..again'/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC5kVe0pbmI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/xoedhLSZdlU/S220/profile+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SBFMcWInI6I/AAAAAAAAAH0/e90SH8CC2vE/s72-c/100_9229.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7862633477858522526.post-1726039690186035774</id><published>2008-04-23T23:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-24T03:16:25.526-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Can't Touch This</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SBAJkWInI5I/AAAAAAAAAHs/o5xd6Mfs5q4/s1600-h/100_9236.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SBAJkWInI5I/AAAAAAAAAHs/o5xd6Mfs5q4/s200/100_9236.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192660890379821970" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;There are few things more stimulating or invigorating than attending a self-defense class!  Those who know me know that I can be a rather...errr...feisty/violent person so just imagine what a self-defense class can do for me!  It wasn't even a full self-defense class...an officer from the campus police came in to the self-defense class that my Honors Introduction to Women's Studies class held and gave girls from campus (and a few guys) good safety tips and a brief demo of some self-defense moves.&lt;br /&gt;Then, Officer Brennan (big man...) gave us information about the 12 hour self-defense classes he and another officer hold for 5-18 people during the semesters and summer.  This summer, I'm going to go for it!  It's free, very informative, and at the end, the officers "attack" you with three different dangerous predicaments and you have to defend yourself against them...they yell, swear, say derogatory things to you, make physical contact with you, and you must react to them...good thing both the officers and students wear protective gear...&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah...that pepper spray I bought about 4 years ago when we went to NYC for spring break (guhhhh...bad trip)?  Yeah, they said I should probably get rid of it.  And rape whistles?  Bad idea...because people won't care about a stupid whistle being blown and the attacker can shove it down your throat....&lt;br /&gt;I learned so much...imagine after taking 12 hours of a self-defense class!  I was practically jumping out of my seat to sign up....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7862633477858522526-1726039690186035774?l=lifes8passions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/feeds/1726039690186035774/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7862633477858522526&amp;postID=1726039690186035774' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/1726039690186035774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/1726039690186035774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/2008/04/cant-touch-this.html' title='Can&apos;t Touch This'/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC5kVe0pbmI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/xoedhLSZdlU/S220/profile+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SBAJkWInI5I/AAAAAAAAAHs/o5xd6Mfs5q4/s72-c/100_9236.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7862633477858522526.post-7093478376998908144</id><published>2008-04-22T20:44:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-22T22:25:46.236-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Happiness and Sadness</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SA6d1mInI3I/AAAAAAAAAHc/y2AimgZWH6M/s1600-h/100_9225.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192260964500054898" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SA6d1mInI3I/AAAAAAAAAHc/y2AimgZWH6M/s200/100_9225.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192243166155580242" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SA6NpmInI1I/AAAAAAAAAHM/c2vRbpLOeeA/s200/100_9219.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Tonight was so lovely, it was almost perfect. After an incredible gorgeous day, I attended the Honors Program Spring Banquet for Ship University, and it was so bittersweet. It didn't really hit me that this would be my last Honors Banquet until our program director got up and started talking and then all of us graduating seniors stood up to receive our Honors graduation cords and parting gift. I cannot believe how fast these last four years have gone by. I have changed so much that it would be hard for me to recognize the Emily from four years ago. And the fact that I have been with these people and learned and laughed and complained and suffered with them...it's so overwhelming. Really, with the Honors Program, we were a tight knit group, taking various classes with them, interacting and spending time with them. And now, we're all scattering off into so many directions...will I ever see them again? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SA6d12InI4I/AAAAAAAAAHk/U0Wzvpy5PLg/s1600-h/100_9227.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192260968795022210" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SA6d12InI4I/AAAAAAAAAHk/U0Wzvpy5PLg/s200/100_9227.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, tonight was not for sadness, but for &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:12;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;reminiscing and enjoying each other company. I'm proud to see my friends succeed so well...we are the best of the best. And we could not have had it on a more perfect evening. I love spring.&lt;br /&gt;On a sad note, my family just got a call from my mother's relatives...my grandmother is in the hospital again and her heart is "shrinking"...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:12;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I don't know what they mean by that, but I'm praying for good news...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7862633477858522526-7093478376998908144?l=lifes8passions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/feeds/7093478376998908144/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7862633477858522526&amp;postID=7093478376998908144' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/7093478376998908144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/7093478376998908144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/2008/04/happiness-and-sadness.html' title='Happiness and Sadness'/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC5kVe0pbmI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/xoedhLSZdlU/S220/profile+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SA6d1mInI3I/AAAAAAAAAHc/y2AimgZWH6M/s72-c/100_9225.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7862633477858522526.post-6435831634929031048</id><published>2008-04-20T20:37:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-20T22:56:20.952-04:00</updated><title type='text'>From Winter to Monsoon Season</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SAv_SOSHflI/AAAAAAAAAG8/C2DZekPNJaI/s1600-h/100_9211.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191523684011441746" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SAv_SOSHflI/AAAAAAAAAG8/C2DZekPNJaI/s200/100_9211.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Rain is a good thing...I won't deny that. Rain is a necessity for things to grow. This is something everyone learns from an early age. Apparently, rain is also good for drenching poor Emily as she walks from the library on campus to her car while dressed up for an induction ceremony of which she is president of. Nice....at least I didn't fall down into a mud puddle. That is a big blessing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;It was crazy, though. It started off as just little, tiny droplets of rain, the kind that you sort of ignore because you brush it off as a passing mist. Then, WHOM. As if God started kicking over buckets and pails full of water to the brim. It was actually pretty funny and would have been really fun to walk in if it wasn't for 4 inch heels on my feet. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Then, at the ceremony, the campus catering people never showed up. I call them, asking them where the hell they're at because the ceremony's about to start..and we have no food. Turns out they said I didn't write on the reservation form where the ceremony was taking place. Hmmm...I thought to myself...that's funny, I thought I did. But, hey, my head has been in other places lately so I could have forgotten that. Give them the benefit of the doubt. Plus, they said they were trying to contact someone (i.e. one of the professors) but no such luck. So, I told them to just come as soon as possible. 45 minutes later....still no food. I get a message on my phone from them saying they are taking care of two dinners at that point and couldn't send anyone to give us our food! Why did they not decide to tell me this before?! OOoooooo...did the professors get mmmaadddd...and here I am thinking, Oh shit, this is my fault. One prof goes to get the food for himself while I log onto the internet with my laptop, check my email for the form I had sent, and lo and behold, I specifically typed on the form: Old Main Chapel. Granted, I didn't leave a space between "Location:" and "Old Main Chapel", but I figured someone should be able to figure that out. Apparently, not. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Finally, our professor showed up with our food that should have been CATERED to us...and it turns out they weren't even ready for him with the food when he showed up...and they gave him no plates, napkins, or utensils. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;So when we left, we just left everything there for them to clean up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Hopefully, catering can at least clean up. But I shouldn't hold my breath...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SAwBY-SHfmI/AAAAAAAAAHE/46KUtBMhLXs/s1600-h/100_9191.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191525998998814306" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SAwBY-SHfmI/AAAAAAAAAHE/46KUtBMhLXs/s200/100_9191.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Had to shake a lot of hands...and take a lot of pictures...very awkward.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7862633477858522526-6435831634929031048?l=lifes8passions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/feeds/6435831634929031048/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7862633477858522526&amp;postID=6435831634929031048' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/6435831634929031048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/6435831634929031048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/2008/04/from-winter-to-monsoon-season.html' title='From Winter to Monsoon Season'/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC5kVe0pbmI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/xoedhLSZdlU/S220/profile+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SAv_SOSHflI/AAAAAAAAAG8/C2DZekPNJaI/s72-c/100_9211.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7862633477858522526.post-3674341742087902594</id><published>2008-04-19T19:18:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-20T03:14:57.127-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Spring is Here!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SArsqeSHfiI/AAAAAAAAAGo/Ak3MA6XlDkw/s1600-h/100_9181.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191221734925631010" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SArsqeSHfiI/AAAAAAAAAGo/Ak3MA6XlDkw/s200/100_9181.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahhhh...I know, I'm a bad blogger! It's been too long, but things have been rather busy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was so incredible outside today, that I decided to take some pictures around the yard that were clear indications that winter is out the door and spring has finally come! There were some fat bumblebees buzzing around...I almost had a very close encounter with them when the rock on which I was standing on almost toppled over. &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SArfnOSHfgI/AAAAAAAAAGY/xqGT9wzCXOI/s1600-h/100_9176.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191207385439895042" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SArfnOSHfgI/AAAAAAAAAGY/xqGT9wzCXOI/s200/100_9176.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mother has a rock/flower garden and sometimes I like to go out and pull the weeds from it...I like gardening, despite what everyone in my family says. I suppose I should put it this way: I like to do it on my own time and terms...it's cathartic, like ironing. Sometimes, my mother goes out there with the pruning shears and goes all Edward Scissorhands to the pine trees, cutting away at the branches until there's hardly anything left...poor trees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was an awards ceremony at Shippensburg University so I had to go in to receive an award and I met up with Jenn and Tami. Look at us...from high school to college, we still managed to stick together and we came out in the end being the best we ever could be. The only person missing is Nicole (but, she a Chambersburg girl...) Just kidding Nicole!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SArip-SHfhI/AAAAAAAAAGg/cgh28xwH8kw/s1600-h/100_5875.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191210731219418642" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SArip-SHfhI/AAAAAAAAAGg/cgh28xwH8kw/s200/100_5875.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would have to say, this is one of my favorite times of the year, but it's so bittersweet. We're all going off onto separate paths, no longer connected by school. This isn't the only thing that is making me sad, but that is for a different story...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For now, I'm just going to enjoy what I have.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7862633477858522526-3674341742087902594?l=lifes8passions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/feeds/3674341742087902594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7862633477858522526&amp;postID=3674341742087902594' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/3674341742087902594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/3674341742087902594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/2008/04/mr-bee-meet-emilyemily-meet-mr-bee.html' title='Spring is Here!'/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC5kVe0pbmI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/xoedhLSZdlU/S220/profile+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SArsqeSHfiI/AAAAAAAAAGo/Ak3MA6XlDkw/s72-c/100_9181.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7862633477858522526.post-6555347862991715606</id><published>2008-04-11T19:56:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-11T20:20:54.276-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Student Teaching the Teacher...</title><content type='html'>So today, I took on the task of teaching Jean-Nicolas how to create a blog...very interesting task indeed...so now when he goes back to France, I can continue to see what goes on in his life! &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;In a sense, a blog is a good bridge that closes the gap between two cultures. It is an amazing tool to use, to keep in touch with people so far away. I hardly ever get to talk to my sister who lives in another state, but by looking at her blog ( &lt;a href="http://ljcfyi.com/"&gt;http://ljcfyi.com/&lt;/a&gt; ) I get daily updates of what she's done or interesting things that's happened to her. Plus, she is very talented in the blog area...she conducts her own blog while being the chief blogger for Kodak! ( &lt;a href="http://news.moneycentral.msn.com/ticker/article.aspx?Feed=BW&amp;amp;Date=20080403&amp;amp;ID=8433243&amp;amp;Symbol=EK"&gt;http://news.moneycentral.msn.com/ticker/article.aspx?Feed=BW&amp;amp;Date=20080403&amp;amp;ID=8433243&amp;amp;Symbol=EK&lt;/a&gt; ) &lt;a href="http://1000words.kodak.com/uploads/21378-8F1E1953-2748-4964-9D44-D206E791E3B2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1000words.kodak.com/uploads/21378-8F1E1953-2748-4964-9D44-D206E791E3B2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7862633477858522526-6555347862991715606?l=lifes8passions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/feeds/6555347862991715606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7862633477858522526&amp;postID=6555347862991715606' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/6555347862991715606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/6555347862991715606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/2008/04/student-teaching-teacher.html' title='The Student Teaching the Teacher...'/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC5kVe0pbmI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/xoedhLSZdlU/S220/profile+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7862633477858522526.post-7017108975514159046</id><published>2008-04-10T21:52:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-11T03:02:31.837-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Speed Demon</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/R_7cYwAJWEI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/mthiho2YxCk/s1600-h/roadragesign%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187826138537875522" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/R_7cYwAJWEI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/mthiho2YxCk/s200/roadragesign%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;So, apparently (according to people), I'm a bit speedy when I'm behind the wheel of my car. And, perhaps, a little (just a little) hot-headed when on the highways. Only just a little.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;It's rather ironic. Everyone in my family is a slow driver, especially my father. Sometimes, I just want to rip the wheel out of his hands and drive the car myself. Really, I don't understand where I get it from...obviously, driving habits are not genetic.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;I think the more I have to drive on highways, my speed and impatience increases. But I'm not a bad driver! After backing into my father's truck two years ago, I'm very careful (knock on wood!). I try not to do anything else while driving (that's one good thing) and I limit how much I talk on the phone which makes the speaker option on the phone very handy!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/R_7b8wAJWDI/AAAAAAAAAGI/FqrseC_yrNw/s1600-h/roadRageMEN_600x486%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187825657501538354" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/R_7b8wAJWDI/AAAAAAAAAGI/FqrseC_yrNw/s200/roadRageMEN_600x486%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;I don't know what scares my passengers more...the way I drive or my reactions to other drivers...sometimes I think they overexaggerate!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;And, every time they're in my car, they always point out how someday, the metal star I have hanging off of my rearview mirror will someday cut my head open or gouge my eye out. I find it merely as a defense weapon that may come in handy some day...they have affectionately coined it as my "Chinese throwing star". &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Maybe that should be my "one good thing a day" thing...not to get mad at people while driving.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7862633477858522526-7017108975514159046?l=lifes8passions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/feeds/7017108975514159046/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7862633477858522526&amp;postID=7017108975514159046' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/7017108975514159046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/7017108975514159046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/2008/04/speed-demon.html' title='Speed Demon'/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC5kVe0pbmI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/xoedhLSZdlU/S220/profile+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/R_7cYwAJWEI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/mthiho2YxCk/s72-c/roadragesign%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7862633477858522526.post-9205724410593225548</id><published>2008-04-09T20:22:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-09T20:59:37.097-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Bane of My Existence</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/R_1kdAAJWAI/AAAAAAAAAFw/uCOqG7v7csM/s1600-h/_42672279_lambs_416300pa%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187412795180275714" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/R_1kdAAJWAI/AAAAAAAAAFw/uCOqG7v7csM/s200/_42672279_lambs_416300pa%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Most people who know me know that I am deathly afraid of one creature: a spider. I really don't understand why more people don't despire them more. Seriously. They are probably one of the most ugliest, vilest, horrendous, scariest, most evil thing on earth. Personally, anything with more than 4 limbs is unacceptable to me (unless you are human and have a mutation). And I mean, come on...a spider first bites you to numb you, then wraps you up in a tight, suffocating silk cocoon (which I think is ironic because we see silk as being rich, luxurious, and a must-have). Once you're all wrapped up, you must await your terrible fate until the spider feels hungry enough to suck you dry of all of your body fluids. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Can't you see why I hate spiders?&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;It probably doesn't help that when I was very, very young, I was running around the corner of the house and got caught right in the middle of an outstretched cobweb...that scarred me for life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;I don't care that spiders make the world a better place because they eat other bugs. There's actually a commerical where a man gets up, walks to the window, and starts singing with a cricket who is perched on the window sill. Together, they sing into the night, looking out at the bright stars. Suddenly, a cluster of stars blink, become eyes, the camera focuses on the horror on the man's face, and then pans out to show a spider that had emerged from the dark and was quickly wrapping up the singing cricket into a cocoon as the poor cricket's voice fades away. How horrible! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Anyway, last night, I was opening up a binder that was laying innocently on the floor. I almost passed out. There was a spider in my notebook! Arrrghhhhh! Of course, my first reaction is "KILL IT!" so with the palm of my hand, I frantically started pounding on my binder to smoosh it to death. There are few things in the world that is worse than half a spider on your papers and half of a spider embedded in the palm of your hand. I almost cried right there on the floor...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Hence why instead of a picture of a spider, I posted a picture of lambs...lambs aren't scary.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7862633477858522526-9205724410593225548?l=lifes8passions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/feeds/9205724410593225548/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7862633477858522526&amp;postID=9205724410593225548' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/9205724410593225548'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/9205724410593225548'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/2008/04/bane-of-my-existence.html' title='The Bane of My Existence'/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC5kVe0pbmI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/xoedhLSZdlU/S220/profile+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/R_1kdAAJWAI/AAAAAAAAAFw/uCOqG7v7csM/s72-c/_42672279_lambs_416300pa%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7862633477858522526.post-3175687945418648675</id><published>2008-04-08T18:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-08T19:17:16.227-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Joys of Ironing</title><content type='html'>*yawn* I have a problem now where I wake up at 4:00 in the morning and can't fall back asleep till about 5 or 5:30. When 4:00 rolls around, bam, I am wide awake and in a cold sweat. Hmmmm...perhaps a bad REM cycle around the same time each night? Bad dreams that I can't remember? Either way, I'm finding myself getting drowsy in the late afternoon. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I find ironing my clothes a bit like meditation...until I burned my finger because it was so close to the steam. Although I would never want to do ironing for hours upon hours, it's kind of soothing as long as you pay attention to what you're doing. Just grab some clothes, pour yourself some iced tea, pop your ipod on, and iron away! I get such a sense of satisfaction when I hang up my crisp, ironed shirts in the closet.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I can't imagine what would happen if my mother stopped ironing my father's clothes...he would probably go to work looking like he just rolled out of bed. He can't even use the DVD remote so I can't imagine the state of his clothes if he attempted ironing. &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/R_v70ToVpxI/AAAAAAAAAFg/NZtIgs1S7tc/s1600-h/men-ironing-big%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187016271888492306" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/R_v70ToVpxI/AAAAAAAAAFg/NZtIgs1S7tc/s200/men-ironing-big%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Of course, ladies, if you happen to not be as motivated to iron as you wish you could be, perhaps one of these ironing boards would stimulate you to pick up the iron.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And for the men out there who can actually iron for themselves, there are special boards for you as well.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187016654140581666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/R_v8KjoVpyI/AAAAAAAAAFo/6WCEL6AsS54/s200/girl-ironing-big%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7862633477858522526-3175687945418648675?l=lifes8passions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/feeds/3175687945418648675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7862633477858522526&amp;postID=3175687945418648675' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/3175687945418648675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/3175687945418648675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/2008/04/yawn-i-have-problem-now-where-i-wake-up.html' title='The Joys of Ironing'/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC5kVe0pbmI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/xoedhLSZdlU/S220/profile+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/R_v70ToVpxI/AAAAAAAAAFg/NZtIgs1S7tc/s72-c/men-ironing-big%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7862633477858522526.post-1195478352620024448</id><published>2008-04-07T20:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-07T20:59:09.427-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sicker than a ...?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/R_rDNDoVpwI/AAAAAAAAAFY/rfAmboy5Ymo/s1600-h/eggs_lg%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186672549950760706" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/R_rDNDoVpwI/AAAAAAAAAFY/rfAmboy5Ymo/s200/eggs_lg%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;I am anxiously and patiently awaiting for some signs...&lt;em&gt;any signs&lt;/em&gt;...of spring. Mother Nature is playing a cruel trick on me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;On a brighter note, I've decided to take the advice Jenn gave on her lastest blog post and I am going to do at least one good thing a day for someone or, as she says, one random act of kindness. Of course, my definition of an act of kindness may be slightly different than what others may think...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Sigh...I may have to nurse a sick dog tonight. Silly me, I left the door to my room open and when I couldn't find Wally (my dog) anywhere in the house, the words "oh no" and "stupid dog" can immediately to mind. Lo and behold, I jumped in front of the door and out ran said dog with a wrapper in his mouth. Not a good sign. Neither was the almost completely consumed milk chocolate and peanut butter egg from Easter laying smushed on the floor of my room. You know, usually he goes in there and swipes the errant sock, some other articles of clothing, or a tissue. Now the dog is pilfering my candy! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Any one want a sick dog?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7862633477858522526-1195478352620024448?l=lifes8passions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/feeds/1195478352620024448/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7862633477858522526&amp;postID=1195478352620024448' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/1195478352620024448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/1195478352620024448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/2008/04/sicker-than.html' title='Sicker than a ...?'/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC5kVe0pbmI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/xoedhLSZdlU/S220/profile+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/R_rDNDoVpwI/AAAAAAAAAFY/rfAmboy5Ymo/s72-c/eggs_lg%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7862633477858522526.post-8769354827708972733</id><published>2008-04-06T19:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-07T16:06:50.520-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Life's Passion #1</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Ughhhh...I shall never bug Jenn for not updating her blog ever again. I am terrible at this. You would figure as much as I like to talk, I would be better at this blogging stuff...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;I have noticed something different in me in the last couple of months. And I think I owe it to my friends. Because of them, I've made decisions that have &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/R_mOIjoVptI/AAAAAAAAAFA/DUqq0Lu9cOI/s1600-h/IMG_0108.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186332723548366546" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/R_mOIjoVptI/AAAAAAAAAFA/DUqq0Lu9cOI/s200/IMG_0108.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;made me a better and more vibrant person that I don't regret. I got out of a relationship that was hurting me, I got my hair cut into bangs (which, I think, released the Emily inside), I laugh more, I enjoy the little things more, and I am more aware of the little things that make me the woman I am. Grazie/Gracias!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;One of life's passions is full, true, laughter. Not the forced, conversational laughter, but laughter that cannot be held back and comes somewhere between the heart and soul. I always feel so good after I laugh because it renews me, energizes me, and just plain makes me happy and whole. It's cathartic and makes us human.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Wikipedia mentions that laughter can improve your health and increase life. Laughter can make your abdomen muscles stronger, protect the heart, lower blood sugar after a meal, and may increase antibodies in the body.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Laughter makes you feel closer to your peers and others. It is a social tool to &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/R_mPIDoVpuI/AAAAAAAAAFI/xPJ1YDiSkiQ/s1600-h/n48507888_30369265_9319%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186333814470059746" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/R_mPIDoVpuI/AAAAAAAAAFI/xPJ1YDiSkiQ/s200/n48507888_30369265_9319%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;build stronger relationships (friendships and otherwise). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;So laugh more!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7862633477858522526-8769354827708972733?l=lifes8passions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/feeds/8769354827708972733/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7862633477858522526&amp;postID=8769354827708972733' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/8769354827708972733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/8769354827708972733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/2008/04/lifes-passion-1.html' title='Life&apos;s Passion #1'/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC5kVe0pbmI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/xoedhLSZdlU/S220/profile+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/R_mOIjoVptI/AAAAAAAAAFA/DUqq0Lu9cOI/s72-c/IMG_0108.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7862633477858522526.post-3934839999117855742</id><published>2008-03-30T20:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-30T21:05:45.439-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Shippensburg University Ceramics Students are killing me</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/R_A2NDoVprI/AAAAAAAAAEs/4a4ZlmUSoDM/s1600-h/100_9163.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183702769044137650" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/R_A2NDoVprI/AAAAAAAAAEs/4a4ZlmUSoDM/s320/100_9163.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I know! Who knew that the ceramics class was out for world domination by slowly poisoning people with the ceramic mugs they made and sold to the campus community?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Well, perhaps I am overexagerating...but not by much. A month or so ago, I bought a beautiful mug that was handcrafted by a ceramics student (initials will not be posted to protect the student) and I was smittened by it. I was oh-so-eager to try it out. Today, I decided that while I was studying hard-core for my exam, I would relax by sipping some Lipton's berry tea in my amazing mug. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;After being reassured by a friend that none of the toxic paints/dyes/whatever were used, I stuck my mug in the microwave to heat up some water. Nonchalantly, I took my mug out of the microwave, let the tea bag seep for a while, added my mountains of sugar to my tea, and then settled down for some more studying. As time went by, I noticed spots....small, brown spots....appearing, dotting the surface and inside of my once beautiful blue/purple mug! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;I was thinking to myself, "Oh crap, I'm going to die," so I frantically call up my friend Jenn to ask her if I was going to die. She did not know. Great. Well, I sent her some phone pictures of my diseased-looking mug and low and behold...my mug was not toxic, spots are just natural. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Now wait a minute! When I purchased this item from the grinning art student on campus, I was not told my mug would end up looking like it contracted leporsy! But, I suppose, as long as I'm not dying, I can live with this spotted mug. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;But I did throw the rest of my tea out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7862633477858522526-3934839999117855742?l=lifes8passions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/feeds/3934839999117855742/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7862633477858522526&amp;postID=3934839999117855742' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/3934839999117855742'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/3934839999117855742'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/2008/03/shippensburg-university-ceramics.html' title='Shippensburg University Ceramics Students are killing me'/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC5kVe0pbmI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/xoedhLSZdlU/S220/profile+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/R_A2NDoVprI/AAAAAAAAAEs/4a4ZlmUSoDM/s72-c/100_9163.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7862633477858522526.post-7818523089011963129</id><published>2008-03-23T01:01:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-07T21:11:58.934-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Easter!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/R-XrzjoVpmI/AAAAAAAAAEE/lMsy3wcCFW8/s1600-h/Easter_Buddies_800.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180806217329911394" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/R-XrzjoVpmI/AAAAAAAAAEE/lMsy3wcCFW8/s320/Easter_Buddies_800.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#66cccc;"&gt;Ahhhh...another lovely holiday! Hopefully, this one won't be rainy and dreary and ugly like all of the past Easters. I love holidays because they would never be the same without relatives...even though sometimes they can make you feel miserable. There is always a maximum amount of time that you can spend with family members before all hell breaks loose.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#66cccc;"&gt;Despite how much one may wish to throw one's family to the wolves at certain times, they are inevitably a crucial part of a holiday. A holiday should be spent relaxing and enjoying company...not sitting around doing work. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#66cccc;"&gt;I spent the day painting hollow eggs with the sister and brother-in-law (we blew the yolk out of them) with different colored paints that had a shimmer of gold to make them look metalic...like a goose laid a golden egg!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#66cccc;"&gt;Wally's going to have a lot of scrambled eggs to eat for the next few days.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7862633477858522526-7818523089011963129?l=lifes8passions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/feeds/7818523089011963129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7862633477858522526&amp;postID=7818523089011963129' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/7818523089011963129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/7818523089011963129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/2008/03/easter.html' title='Easter!'/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC5kVe0pbmI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/xoedhLSZdlU/S220/profile+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/R-XrzjoVpmI/AAAAAAAAAEE/lMsy3wcCFW8/s72-c/Easter_Buddies_800.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7862633477858522526.post-4005211692990300205</id><published>2008-03-20T21:40:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-20T21:43:41.857-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Starting with the Basics</title><content type='html'>Well, I figured it was only a matter of time before I would start one....little by little we will discuss and draw out just what are life's eight passions and maybe there's more than eight.  But eight is a lucky number...it's infinity and even and never ending.  Can there be a better number?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7862633477858522526-4005211692990300205?l=lifes8passions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/feeds/4005211692990300205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7862633477858522526&amp;postID=4005211692990300205' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/4005211692990300205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7862633477858522526/posts/default/4005211692990300205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifes8passions.blogspot.com/2008/03/starting-with-basics.html' title='Starting with the Basics'/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_F4W4HMbKFWE/SC5kVe0pbmI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/xoedhLSZdlU/S220/profile+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
