tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75441666188404996442024-03-14T10:33:47.158-04:00LulavilleUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger405125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7544166618840499644.post-24034540322139695472010-07-01T23:53:00.002-04:002010-07-02T00:07:19.472-04:00The Children Are Bored On Sundays.There's nothing I don't love about this:<div><br /></div><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/EDA4vbPG0bo&hl=en_US&fs=1?color1=0xcc2550&color2=0xe87a9f"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/EDA4vbPG0bo&hl=en_US&fs=1?color1=0xcc2550&color2=0xe87a9f" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object><br />I love this pairing. These two people.<br /><br /><div>I love Shirley Manson and her red hair.</div><div>I love Elijah Wood.</div><div><br /></div><div>I love that Shirley is almost forty-four years old. Yes, I said <b><i>44</i></b>.</div><div>Elijah is twenty-nine. </div><div><br /></div><div>I love this song, entitled "Just You And Me," by Zee Avi.</div><div><br /></div><div>I love golf balls.</div><div>I love Oliver Peoples eyewear. Who knew lenses could be so sexy?</div><div><br /></div><div>I love every frock Shirley wears. </div><div>Look at Elijah rocking a skinny tie. And a bow tie. </div><div><br /></div><div>We are big Garbage fans in this family.</div><div>We are big <i>Lord of the Rings</i> fans, as well.</div><div><br /></div><div>I want to go on a picnic.</div><div>I long to drink champagne while in my pool. In a dress.</div><div>I probably need a zebra skin for my dining room table, as well.</div><div><br /></div><div>I love the Stepford quality of this video. </div><div><br /></div><div>Clearly, I love it all. Please...love it with me.</div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7544166618840499644.post-81038366024696119302010-06-27T17:07:00.007-04:002010-06-27T19:26:40.503-04:00Summer Lovin'<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><b>What I'm listening to:</b></span><div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">I want Grace's hair, her voice, her body...her hair...</div><div style="text-align: center;">this CD is the soundtrack of my summer.</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5b9wD6iOlGcmOe3Dg0k2oDQlzlZl8k9vh8ZWgPeLX5ULI9vfq5I9scyDegn90oOn7BZxJa0qoNntbuEvLee3F_65Y8g4n8AySAljFBm7AGCPzdo7Ql4piQymyy_kQd01qNmHHCB6MaKQ/s1600/65676551.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5b9wD6iOlGcmOe3Dg0k2oDQlzlZl8k9vh8ZWgPeLX5ULI9vfq5I9scyDegn90oOn7BZxJa0qoNntbuEvLee3F_65Y8g4n8AySAljFBm7AGCPzdo7Ql4piQymyy_kQd01qNmHHCB6MaKQ/s200/65676551.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487571027234483026" /></a><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Gayngs' "<i><b>Relayted</b></i>."</div><div style="text-align: center;">I can't even begin to tell you all the artists on this album, </div><div style="text-align: center;">or describe its sound.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Just. Listen. To. It.</div><div style="text-align: center;">And love it.</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia0k8W3JSI_RoEOebudQx0M52xRJ_jz7t-JtcuaOAH8l40VDTSi58WTC5xA4HgsRSpzRWs50u3_shH8r2cuq08Wc0fn3BGcT5y6a9jglXXfEOiZhOeLHOUg3Kst-lZkuJsAqS6Zo38rrg/s1600/58164166.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 185px; height: 185px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia0k8W3JSI_RoEOebudQx0M52xRJ_jz7t-JtcuaOAH8l40VDTSi58WTC5xA4HgsRSpzRWs50u3_shH8r2cuq08Wc0fn3BGcT5y6a9jglXXfEOiZhOeLHOUg3Kst-lZkuJsAqS6Zo38rrg/s400/58164166.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487570410764840930" /></a><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">'Member last summer when I was all, </div><div style="text-align: center;">"<a href="http://www.lulaville.com/2009/08/cautionary-tale-you-dig.html">OMS, I LOVE Florence + The Machine</a>???"</div><div style="text-align: center;">Now she's on the <b><i>Eclipse*</i></b> soundtrack & people are all, "Yeah, I love her, too!"</div><div style="text-align: center;">Right.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Anyway, my new power voice of choice is Marina, of <b><i>Marina & The Diamon</i></b><i><b>ds</b></i>.</div><div style="text-align: center;">She is so hard rockin'. Go love her.</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigE-AwMEpOr8plnadJzZxqFk1ezKGuo5OOC52obdQ4PAxYumOnmdsoslCDZ-_ynjNCjl6-aa3SqrsGn4R3tProugGkt9DCp5AvXVutf_d8ZvE22LfLTPh39HHsaAQYyeyjJneBndDkY2U/s1600/60303039.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 185px; height: 185px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigE-AwMEpOr8plnadJzZxqFk1ezKGuo5OOC52obdQ4PAxYumOnmdsoslCDZ-_ynjNCjl6-aa3SqrsGn4R3tProugGkt9DCp5AvXVutf_d8ZvE22LfLTPh39HHsaAQYyeyjJneBndDkY2U/s400/60303039.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487570405766008754" /></a><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">She's an old friend...</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfSr8sdj9VBX9-wg85KhW3yT0h8xGIbFyKx36l0hfP6C5kw-UkPCAH_M3XG9xuzTyIbYZ9YWOoJRdEMBNgjCYJcCPwF5F4L_7MVZXCmqzt75T4fSofKWFcKiVNJvsqP8w7ktmxu_59Occ/s1600/63716214.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 185px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfSr8sdj9VBX9-wg85KhW3yT0h8xGIbFyKx36l0hfP6C5kw-UkPCAH_M3XG9xuzTyIbYZ9YWOoJRdEMBNgjCYJcCPwF5F4L_7MVZXCmqzt75T4fSofKWFcKiVNJvsqP8w7ktmxu_59Occ/s400/63716214.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487570400895968162" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center; ">Her new album is a bit of a twist from her typical fare...</div><div style="text-align: center; ">...makes me wanna dance barefoot 'round my yard,</div><div style="text-align: center; ">or run through the sprinklers. Naked.</div><div style="text-align: center; ">Go 'head<b><i> Sia</i></b>. You make me happy.</div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><b>I read REAL books!!!!! </b></span> (Love you, Janet!)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">This shall be made into a feature film, </div><div style="text-align: center;">starring Carey Mulligan & Nicholas Hoult.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I decree it.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I also decree that Jason Reitman shall direct it.</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfI1VIEwWjmJc8gAgFMY1mZ_2oPc7wedUM0RQyFGlpo-aIf-P5EkuzwF6jqN2x2eHyKQYBkjC-pi57VlHVB_zTIlyfwT9zsiufa21f6BDm_7rovaHPxxL3uY-eJBLaVdM6IpPNKumeAhs/s1600/56063179.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 259px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfI1VIEwWjmJc8gAgFMY1mZ_2oPc7wedUM0RQyFGlpo-aIf-P5EkuzwF6jqN2x2eHyKQYBkjC-pi57VlHVB_zTIlyfwT9zsiufa21f6BDm_7rovaHPxxL3uY-eJBLaVdM6IpPNKumeAhs/s400/56063179.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487569585480377922" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">I've only read 50 pages of this, </div><div style="text-align: center;">but can hardly stand to put it down.</div><div style="text-align: center;">CAPTIVATING!</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2xW5Izu-bA3IXxGdnZdYHJTGmd8I7PKYy_AfRsK3uBrpnNYKXOIm7QiITjXS__tiGig938b0gM_PfroJPvLpMuQByy4zLfLwGI2WXI5fyiVpeiEx-k3rCdeaUKrDCbdZyLgHrfg3wFpk/s1600/66697645.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 263px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2xW5Izu-bA3IXxGdnZdYHJTGmd8I7PKYy_AfRsK3uBrpnNYKXOIm7QiITjXS__tiGig938b0gM_PfroJPvLpMuQByy4zLfLwGI2WXI5fyiVpeiEx-k3rCdeaUKrDCbdZyLgHrfg3wFpk/s400/66697645.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487569570026175890" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Quirky. Dark. Fascinating. Heartbreaking. </div><div style="text-align: center;">This has been reviewed as, "A contender for Great American Novel" status.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I agree.</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw1xLZTAgHTxQsR6y8kk1OCE6nCnFUHeDhCsjzaz5zFAmOBfbw1vjrpERZeag5WKZHNUPIxS82uHXwBtvNc1V7k7EROR5duiR80tUfiM6xyT5QHDafPHBB9FYHE8E9mXSw-c3BML-O4Y0/s1600/63714216.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 263px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw1xLZTAgHTxQsR6y8kk1OCE6nCnFUHeDhCsjzaz5zFAmOBfbw1vjrpERZeag5WKZHNUPIxS82uHXwBtvNc1V7k7EROR5duiR80tUfiM6xyT5QHDafPHBB9FYHE8E9mXSw-c3BML-O4Y0/s400/63714216.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487569566462693506" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Finished this one a few weeks ago...it's a beach read. </div><div style="text-align: center;">It's all romantic, with a lot of history and mentions of the University of Virginia.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Which is to say YOU MUST READ THIS!</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW87sxRvD_i8POxc_qE22MDXdktWrj-EQZHVPfFzJ1Qa61p8U7tUtHmrvswoTYWjEyOul5PIhlo9eC5SYXkUgFkBUPwnx1HQhyu_cAK9eCBbwVCM3nk8h6RL5fkOgTiU85Cd48Jkfs3So/s1600/66471320.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW87sxRvD_i8POxc_qE22MDXdktWrj-EQZHVPfFzJ1Qa61p8U7tUtHmrvswoTYWjEyOul5PIhlo9eC5SYXkUgFkBUPwnx1HQhyu_cAK9eCBbwVCM3nk8h6RL5fkOgTiU85Cd48Jkfs3So/s400/66471320.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487569563281682690" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">(Also, I'm saying it here & now--this one BETTER be made into a movie.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I would also like to produce its soundtrack. Of course.)</div><br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><b>Diggin' On My TV Screen:</b></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">I love an angsty teen drama, </div><div style="text-align: center;">and this one's surprisingly good.</div><div style="text-align: center;">It's filling the hole left in my heart by Chuck Bass...</div><div style="text-align: center;">...I mean <b><i>Gossip Girl</i></b>.</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD5yfP_kJXDYWU0F1oqCbPwQrI8G2_bcXytZkPjgKaEa0dv427MwuX2RR_pXJq6GtJm8pVDtQlKOX0iRLVPvcHCHdFhoJXuUBPKVC3lGLMbnLvuh9xN6spOZMigISwH9VR3aHvldbk9dQ/s1600/pretty-little-liars.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD5yfP_kJXDYWU0F1oqCbPwQrI8G2_bcXytZkPjgKaEa0dv427MwuX2RR_pXJq6GtJm8pVDtQlKOX0iRLVPvcHCHdFhoJXuUBPKVC3lGLMbnLvuh9xN6spOZMigISwH9VR3aHvldbk9dQ/s400/pretty-little-liars.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487571362567253714" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">Please.</span></b></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFDJeDAjpybupErq4241CXLtd4ei-45OzfRxOVdj2kud5u9c0jBvdlGMpCmC9suf589EO-Oo4H1REXnmFs7Fua4NzKzqiIYbIT6JJrmj5noWo9Egx1RWmzZ9x9G4JwTBxhzEh7moJPjfM/s1600/113558853.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 270px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFDJeDAjpybupErq4241CXLtd4ei-45OzfRxOVdj2kud5u9c0jBvdlGMpCmC9suf589EO-Oo4H1REXnmFs7Fua4NzKzqiIYbIT6JJrmj5noWo9Egx1RWmzZ9x9G4JwTBxhzEh7moJPjfM/s400/113558853.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487571355672881298" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Like I need to explain this.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Y'all know I've been a fan since the very first episode.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div>What are you watching/reading/listening to? Do share!</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">*It's good, as far as soundtracks go.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7544166618840499644.post-44884654897389465372010-06-07T09:27:00.002-04:002010-06-07T09:50:33.153-04:00Things I Never Needed.It's been almost two years since <a href="http://onthethirdofdecember.me/">Kristen</a>, who is my people, introduced me to Grace Potter and the Nocturnals. <div><br /></div><div>Grace is also my people...her voice is all her own, yet I hear twinges of Janis Joplin, Stevie Nicks, and Carole King in it, too. And I don't care who you are, <i><b>that right there</b></i> is good programming. </div><div><br /></div><div>When it's Autumn, this music makes me want to curl up with a warm blanket and a mug of coffee, and watch the leaves fall to the earth. Then summer rolls around and I'm sitting on my front porch, tea in hand, rocking the evening away...while Grace serenades me and the crickets. Yes, I dig her a whole dang lot.<br /><br /><object width="580" height="360"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/1Qy67CqmX-o&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0xcc2550&color2=0xe87a9f&border=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/1Qy67CqmX-o&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0xcc2550&color2=0xe87a9f&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="580" height="360"></embed></object></div><br /><b><i>"Take the mistakes I haven't made yet...they're all I have left..."</i></b><div><br /></div><div>That reduced me to tears. And it's a rare song which moves me to weep. </div><div><br /></div><div>"<b><i>Grace Potter and The Nocturnals</i></b>," their first album in 3 years, will release on June 8. I highly recommend it, along with their 2007 offering, "<i><b>This is Somewhere</b></i>." </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><b>You're welcome.</b></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7544166618840499644.post-33678892464137353262010-05-26T16:13:00.003-04:002010-05-26T16:20:30.844-04:00I Say It Every Day.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsIbBy9v2mQo_AKIm7PsFO6m7jT0VgmZdClPA-Ocsj5rtBBGv_-QpFBc5YcaQKUAafQUyxefCjFu_MKSdIDiV3sS7v9Eb_RsMTxueKm27oDZQ9WPJkok00UOfAXxHm1JjCvp75upBPnSI/s1600/ATT00153.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 224px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsIbBy9v2mQo_AKIm7PsFO6m7jT0VgmZdClPA-Ocsj5rtBBGv_-QpFBc5YcaQKUAafQUyxefCjFu_MKSdIDiV3sS7v9Eb_RsMTxueKm27oDZQ9WPJkok00UOfAXxHm1JjCvp75upBPnSI/s400/ATT00153.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475674587478683842" /></a>But is it original recipe, or butter-flavored?<div><br /></div><div>That's what I want to know.</div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7544166618840499644.post-23230088962260710202010-05-19T13:43:00.009-04:002012-01-07T13:59:40.440-05:00My Love Letter.Has there ever been a program that so seamlessly united science fiction, literature, philosophy, religion, medicine, metaphysics, comedy and drama, along with helpings of romance and fantasy? An hour of television not only critically acclaimed, but also a pop culture phenomenon beloved by a completely fervid fanbase?<br />
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Doubful.</div>
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The zeitgeist known as <b>Lost </b>began on September 22, 2004, and I was hooked from the moment Charlie Pace questioned, "Guys...where are we?"</div>
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This week I've read brilliant summaries of the show, written by minds far sharper than my own, printed in publications such as <i>Vanity Fair</i>, <i>Time</i>, <i>TV Guide</i>, and<i> Entertainment Weekly</i>. I'm not going to do the same, because my efforts would fall embarrassingly short.</div>
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Instead I'm going to say <b><i>thank you</i></b> to the cast and crew of the show. Thanks for giving me six years of pure entertainment. When it comes to the heart of the matter, I don't care to know all the secrets of the island: polar bears, Dharma food drops, or all those notebooks sent via pneumatic tubes. Nah! I don't need to know every answer to every mystery. </div>
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My devastation at the completion of this series is that I'm bidding farewell to some of the most brilliantly written characters to ever grace the screen, big or small. These deeply flawed, hurting people, all of whom are seeking some form of redemption, all of whom have made me laugh, cry, scream, sigh, and applaud...all of whom I've grown to love these past six years.</div>
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<b><i>I will miss them.</i></b></div>
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My favorite moment in <b>Lost </b>occurred in Season 3...<br />
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This clip, more than any other, embodies what <b>Lost</b> means to me. It begins with a huge measure of confusion, which rapidly becomes terrifying, before turning into an overwhelming release of joy and relief. ELATION! That, my friends, is the perfect summary of my Lost-viewing experience.<br />
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(Also...Three Dog Night. I mean, come on..."Shambala" is only one of the best, classic rock songs ever and perfectly synced in this scene.)</div>
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Thank you, Carlton Cuse, Damon Lindelof, and the entire cast and crew (both in Hawaii and California) of my most favorite television series of all time. Whether you go out with a bang or a whimper, I'll never be ashamed to admit that I am a Lostie! It's been a heck of a ride...and I'm glad I was there for it...hanging on with all my might.</div>
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Edited to add THIS:<br />
<object height="360" width="580"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/iggE4ImYwyc&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x2b405b&color2=0x6b8ab6&border=1">
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<embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/iggE4ImYwyc&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x2b405b&color2=0x6b8ab6&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="580" height="360"></embed></object><br />
<b><i>"It's just a show but it feels like losing a friend."</i></b><br />
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Indeed.</div>
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7544166618840499644.post-42331054863492467072010-05-10T09:06:00.004-04:002010-05-10T10:55:12.731-04:00Nickelodeon Vampire<div>I love Rachelle Lefevre's gorgeous red mane:</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioDn_Rn3R8NcNG4oJX4yRZSdiXRJ-2ZYQ1730Xo5hnPYL8laCyuV9wuCY-rraKGegu9u5Ur7OxmTI1ho-aqxkpAGd4GuaS8SZBWq5GmgMuybtwL-NZRXtA5h7wHGmnTUpnsiHkwmNiBdk/s1600/rachelle_lefevre--300x300.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioDn_Rn3R8NcNG4oJX4yRZSdiXRJ-2ZYQ1730Xo5hnPYL8laCyuV9wuCY-rraKGegu9u5Ur7OxmTI1ho-aqxkpAGd4GuaS8SZBWq5GmgMuybtwL-NZRXtA5h7wHGmnTUpnsiHkwmNiBdk/s400/rachelle_lefevre--300x300.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469628495208565282" /></a>I thought she did a fine job portraying evil, nomadic vampire Victoria (as shown in the above photo) in the screen versions of <i><b>Twilight</b></i> and <i><b>New Moon</b></i>. If you're planning to see <i><b>Eclipse</b></i> next month, know that Victoria has a new face (and much less lustrous hair), as Ms. Lefevre was fired by the suits at Summit Entertainment and replaced by Opie Taylor's daughter, Bryce Dallas Howard. Sad. <div><br /></div><div>I'm willing to give Richie Cunningham's daughter a fair chance, however, but only because Rachelle Lefevre has found an even bigger audience than the Twilight crowd:</div><div><div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">The Fresh Beat Band!</span></b></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Ckeumg75ntBJWEPQEya6tLUlp8pjN4R3uOFPL36xhyxahnTGo7CshZg5uMjI8Iyt00AeutJpT4yokYOIk0XnnMA1Ov5MTwtZzGzDpRl0EJc_g_mpytKVb15qaRcfKj0aCHKQ0xdmVFI/s1600/fresh-beat-band-300.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Ckeumg75ntBJWEPQEya6tLUlp8pjN4R3uOFPL36xhyxahnTGo7CshZg5uMjI8Iyt00AeutJpT4yokYOIk0XnnMA1Ov5MTwtZzGzDpRl0EJc_g_mpytKVb15qaRcfKj0aCHKQ0xdmVFI/s400/fresh-beat-band-300.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469628489095721922" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"> We love us some Fresh Beats*.</div><div style="text-align: center;">And cropped leggings.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Wholesome.</i></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">She's going by the name "Marina" on this half hour of song, dance, and zany fun for kids and adults, but she can't fool me. Marina is really Rachelle Lefevre.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And...check it...she got Marissa Tomei ("Kiki") to join in the good times, as well as Don Cheadle's younger brother ("Shout"), and some white guy ("Twist").</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I love a great comeback. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">*No, that's not really Rachelle Lefevre playing Marina. But I do think that's really Marissa Tomei. Is all I'm sayin'.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7544166618840499644.post-71633307328712719082010-04-28T13:39:00.003-04:002010-04-28T13:51:42.629-04:00What A Wonderful World...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOgUvwUzcPHbzPeW6ZFdcH0zuq8OixCFEadr4nkjCkJy41uBE7oTaeHiQHMXdrwhpNn27teDiFK52lJv1Qgkaodia7EuoCgxlyPxG1ATl70JfR9IrHOY4_ZvRho7Z-q04zn9A5q0phfM4/s1600/05_10_10_cover.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOgUvwUzcPHbzPeW6ZFdcH0zuq8OixCFEadr4nkjCkJy41uBE7oTaeHiQHMXdrwhpNn27teDiFK52lJv1Qgkaodia7EuoCgxlyPxG1ATl70JfR9IrHOY4_ZvRho7Z-q04zn9A5q0phfM4/s400/05_10_10_cover.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465244349067673426" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">The magazine is screaming, "<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><b>MEET MY BABY</b></span>!"</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>But I prefer the more subtle title...the one just above their heads..."World's Most Beautiful People 2010." </div><div><br /></div><div>Because I do find Sandra Bullock to be beautiful both inside and out. Witness:</div><div><br /></div><div>*Her Academy Award acceptance speech=Class.</div><div><br /></div><div>*The manner in which she's maintained her dignity during her husband's reported infidelity=Class.</div><div><br /></div><div>*How she's rightfully guarded her privacy during what I'm certain is a very painful time in her life=Class.</div><div><br /></div><div>*That she adopted this gorgeous child, without anyone knowing. At all. And that she's obviously been enjoying him...loving him...mothering him...for the past few months=Class.</div><div><br /></div><div>Yes, Ms. Bullock. You are C-L-A-S-S-Y and I wish you nothing but the best.</div><div><br /></div><div>Also...<b>THAT BABY</b>, y'all. He is altogether delicious. Let's discuss his name: <i><b>Louis</b></i>. Let's discuss that she adopted him from New Orleans. </div><div><br /></div><div>I think you know where I'm headed with this. Louis is clearly a vampire.</div><div><br /></div><div>No, not a blood sucker. Please. As if I'd say that about a precious wee one. No, a sucker of cute, as my friend <a href="http://easycheese.net/">Kelly</a> (not the hater!) so eloquently described sweet baby Louis.</div><div><br /></div><div>And if he's not a vampire, I hope he plays the trumpet when he grows up. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7544166618840499644.post-4438203582062572192010-04-22T13:45:00.008-04:002010-04-27T10:05:00.340-04:00The Nuance of Shade and Color.It's the time of year that women, particularly southerners, live for all winter long. Clutching pages torn from magazines, carrying color swatches, photographs, and sample books, we prepare for our mission. This all has to go down before Mother's Day, because everyone knows that all the good stuff is picked over before Mother's Day weekend. Of course.<div><br /></div><div>I'm always armed with my husband's truck, as well as an old pair of clothes and flip-flops, because I need space to haul my purchases, and ease of movement. I take this job very seriously, as all well-bred women should.</div><div><br /></div><div>Of course there will be the requisite ladies-who-lunch, resplendent in their Burberry trenches & Tod moccasins, lugging their Balenciaga totes, sunglasses perched artfully upon perfectly coiffed manes. I, however, shall grab my lunch at Pal's (Sauceburger with cheese, please!) and won't mind a bit when it spills on my bleach-stained yoga capris, and/or my favorite pink Piggly Wiggly t-shirt, the back of which reads, "<b><i>I'm Big On The Pig</i></b>." Word. Just keepin' it classy.</div><div><br /></div><div>So I'm primed, I'm fueled, I'm properly outfitted, and I'm ready...</div><div><br /></div><div>As soon as I enter the doors, the sights, sounds, and smells overwhelm me and it's all I can do to contain myself from breaking into song.</div><div><blockquote><i><b>I come to the garden alone...<br />while the dew is still on the roses...</b></i><br /></blockquote>Yes, friends...for the next few weeks I will spend my afternoons digging in the dirt. Verbena and Angeliona and Hydrangea, oh my! I will purchase ferns from Kitten's Green Thumb in Jonesville, Virginia, because everyone who's anyone knows that Kitten (yes, that's her real name!) has the most beautiful ferns in the Tri-state area. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'll also buy out Kitten's stock of hot pink Geraniums, too. As well as raspberry-hued Verbena, dark purple Angeliona, and hot pink Vinca.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGzs667O9yWFKKzrxw2AlVl4rDWiKczLjsBAGtLZN-o1GApcSwIr4W_RGE6cY-Hxoh1jUtlB4ayP0kwDgBV4dL5eJWrcWb2sZSfRgyhY4FKIJmEYWuxl-QpU2tCNJv9da5IzH_ha2Tqvk/s1600/BG.jpeg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGzs667O9yWFKKzrxw2AlVl4rDWiKczLjsBAGtLZN-o1GApcSwIr4W_RGE6cY-Hxoh1jUtlB4ayP0kwDgBV4dL5eJWrcWb2sZSfRgyhY4FKIJmEYWuxl-QpU2tCNJv9da5IzH_ha2Tqvk/s400/BG.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464489260988194802" /></a></div><div>I'm pretty much unstoppable at Kitten's Green Thumb. Nanny-nanny-boo-boo, you ladies-who-lunch. Shoulda got up from the table a little earlier. </div><div><br /></div><div>Next I'll head to Evergreen Nursery in Kingsport, Tennessee, for purple Vinca. It's particularly lovely when paired near yellow Lantana. See?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRCRi3eNBPSAACmO0piu0hFLsf6I1xiaVz2KugVZDdWhfX2rjhdb5R8urv__NaAcdbqTic_iMvqF0gxUb3GSDJX0b0F_dndOl3jNJ3-llQ0m-wEQtwpRwFjY_M2zhPDFu_BjPxuxU214I/s1600/BG.jpeg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRCRi3eNBPSAACmO0piu0hFLsf6I1xiaVz2KugVZDdWhfX2rjhdb5R8urv__NaAcdbqTic_iMvqF0gxUb3GSDJX0b0F_dndOl3jNJ3-llQ0m-wEQtwpRwFjY_M2zhPDFu_BjPxuxU214I/s400/BG.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464488094678557554" /></a></div><div>Y'all know how I feel about The Mother Ship (more commonly known to some as <a href="http://www.sephora.com/">Sephora</a>), so it should come as no surprise that I approach the beautification of my yard in much the same manner. Certain colors will always find purchase in this soil of mine (all shades of pinks, blues, and purples, with yellow for contrast and white as a "filler,") whereas no hint of orange will ever see light of day up in this piece.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRCRi3eNBPSAACmO0piu0hFLsf6I1xiaVz2KugVZDdWhfX2rjhdb5R8urv__NaAcdbqTic_iMvqF0gxUb3GSDJX0b0F_dndOl3jNJ3-llQ0m-wEQtwpRwFjY_M2zhPDFu_BjPxuxU214I/s1600/BG.jpeg"></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Please. I was raised with a modicum of dignity and taste. I know better.</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhht_HZZ-bC1lgZL6dbB_6LmIGUESNU93XmGNoPWJcpsE8YUqAHmA2O_coUd5X2ZBjZX3Ug_btH08jbvwTpwAW55n1_EAqYQrEZYBPjybpBPfn0SQaH0kGGvpJbV-K0ONT9OxNNyoTynVA/s1600/BG.jpeg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhht_HZZ-bC1lgZL6dbB_6LmIGUESNU93XmGNoPWJcpsE8YUqAHmA2O_coUd5X2ZBjZX3Ug_btH08jbvwTpwAW55n1_EAqYQrEZYBPjybpBPfn0SQaH0kGGvpJbV-K0ONT9OxNNyoTynVA/s400/BG.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464494605324615394" /></a>Years ago my grandmother--who never wore a pair of "britches" in her life, and would never dream of leaving her house without first circling her neck with either pearls, diamonds, gold, or a combination thereof--told me that gardening was something all southern women "just did." My favorite Aunt Doris would spend hours snipping, clipping, and pruning away at her azaleas and wisteria. And even my own mother taught me the difference between annuals and perennials, proper spacing, shade lovers, and which flowers could "take the heat." I never dreamed I'd be one of those women who'd find immense joy in spending week after week covered in dirt, caked in manure, (not my own!) and drenched in sweat.</div><div><br /></div><div>I love every minute of it. </div><div><br /></div><div>I feel as if I've earned my birthright...honored my heritage...accepted the legacy that was genetically disposed to me, courtesy of my Mississippi born and bred parents. While the rest of the world is digging the new spring fashions, I'm happy to be digging in the dirt. And rolling around in it, too. What else would one do while wearing a Piggly Wiggly t-shirt?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW21Z6W9oLrifM_iZZwkK3ST-PhVshsqv4FU7jIYBBfvvafodwKHj1LuJcSTKpBAWcrPZUUcicJbcChuwnTZb_6kbhaDaRQLv7QmmAyJ8mAcYtD1AnXFGY2eXLNFKRrWVVeup140BBcu0/s1600/BG.jpeg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW21Z6W9oLrifM_iZZwkK3ST-PhVshsqv4FU7jIYBBfvvafodwKHj1LuJcSTKpBAWcrPZUUcicJbcChuwnTZb_6kbhaDaRQLv7QmmAyJ8mAcYtD1AnXFGY2eXLNFKRrWVVeup140BBcu0/s400/BG.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="" /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></a><div><a onblur=" try=" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRCRi3eNBPSAACmO0piu0hFLsf6I1xiaVz2KugVZDdWhfX2rjhdb5R8urv__NaAcdbqTic_iMvqF0gxUb3GSDJX0b0F_dndOl3jNJ3-llQ0m-wEQtwpRwFjY_M2zhPDFu_BjPxuxU214I/s1600/BG.jpeg"><br /><br /><br /><br /></a></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7544166618840499644.post-29392096774623228322010-04-08T08:02:00.000-04:002010-04-08T08:13:47.451-04:00Doctor Decade.'Member when we were dating and we used to talk about our love of southern names and southern homes with columns and front porches, and sweet tea and Coke in a bottle?<div><br /></div><div>'Member when we got first married and dreamed that one day we'd have children with family (read: <i>southern</i>!) names, and live in a house with a wide front porch and columns, and drink Coke in a bottle while sitting in a rocking chair, watching those southern children playing in the yard?</div><div><br /></div><div>'Member how we did <i>just </i>that? <i>Just</i> this past weekend?</div><div><br /></div><div>Fifty years from now, I pray we're still on our front porch...watching our children play in the yard. With our grandchildren. And plenty of Coke in a bottle.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigDNjuppTxGsv8uqd4H8IuepkUBkiu9xiCyQFoV_xNQ6tzW_YTdobtlxRa9DC6Oiwr_KntZztnzTQUC5f8z5U6BMJz1nddQOeF3qkikX5g-ldom3k8oEqvz-DHUTJJQyKlKed0JkmTPxQ/s1600/weddingpolaroid.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 344px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigDNjuppTxGsv8uqd4H8IuepkUBkiu9xiCyQFoV_xNQ6tzW_YTdobtlxRa9DC6Oiwr_KntZztnzTQUC5f8z5U6BMJz1nddQOeF3qkikX5g-ldom3k8oEqvz-DHUTJJQyKlKed0JkmTPxQ/s400/weddingpolaroid.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457737894061292466" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7544166618840499644.post-51111815759393997712010-04-01T22:33:00.005-04:002010-04-01T23:27:48.144-04:00Period In Private.*So my family and I went to Disney World and I did this whole post about it and blogger ate it (bad Blogger!) and now it's Spring Break and all I've done is sit in the sun with my girls and run through our Pablo sprinkler and eat popsicles and I have no time to write a new post, let alone read blogs, but I do have time to hang out on Twitter intermittently (bloggy pals--get on Twitter!) and this is quite possibly the longest run-on sentence I've ever written, and I wish you could see the perfectly pink shade I've just painted my finger nails.<div><div><br /></div><div>Also...</div><div><br /></div><div><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">Have you seen this? </span></i></b></div><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/FRf35wCmzWw&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0xcc2550&color2=0xe87a9f"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/FRf35wCmzWw&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0xcc2550&color2=0xe87a9f" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">BRAVO, Kotex!</span><br /><br /><br />*Thanks to <a href="http://www.mindlesjunque.blogspot.com">Heather</a>, for coining this phrase. It's one of many that I've stolen from her. Don't we all just wanna period in private? In our comfy, cozy beds with a few good books, Seasons 1 and 2 of <b><i>Gossip Girl</i></b>, a few Snickers, and several Caramel Macchiatos from Starbucks. YES.</div><div><br /></div><div>Not that Aunt Flo is visiting me or anything. In fact, she's not. But I'll be stocking up on my Kotex supplies, at any rate. I'll switch from the <a href="http://www.lulaville.com/2008/05/precise-placement-tm.html">cheerleading brand</a>. (Hi, <a href="http://tonyctoday.blogspot.com/">Tony</a>!)<br /><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7544166618840499644.post-87220977329645246842010-03-22T00:34:00.005-04:002010-03-22T09:33:31.086-04:00I Only Have One Answer.Last week a pal of mind wondered, <b><i>"How can anyone believe that Jerry Falwell is in Heaven and Gandhi is in hell?"</i></b><div><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div>It's an interesting question, and one that could potentially spark a calm, rational conversation between people of varying beliefs. Or ignite the flames of passionate opinions and, probably, religious diatribe.</div><div><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div>My reply to this friend was, "I don't know much about Gandhi, but I did know Dr. Falwell personally, and I know he's in Heaven."</div><div><br /></div><div>I know this because I know what Dr. Falwell believed. I know in Whom Dr. Falwell believed. Because I believe the same.</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiDc5rivoBkY5WeSPRVtabJRIGwQLSTxS6J3QFJZ1EgmLUMFBQrKP7JjmWE_bO1mv-ohcO-E_LYQsR2Y2rjcoIy_AYpyidaB7kOu8VDhB7nVjDtvR_-UXJg3NS_CD1wEZIvX2vRylOaHE/s1600-h/BG.jpeg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiDc5rivoBkY5WeSPRVtabJRIGwQLSTxS6J3QFJZ1EgmLUMFBQrKP7JjmWE_bO1mv-ohcO-E_LYQsR2Y2rjcoIy_AYpyidaB7kOu8VDhB7nVjDtvR_-UXJg3NS_CD1wEZIvX2vRylOaHE/s400/BG.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451314096215025986" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b>Me, <a href="http://www.infarrantlycreative.blogspot.com/">Beckie</a>, and Kelley--on our alma mater's seal, 2003. We rule.</b></span></div></div><div><br /></div><div>Now, I'm not one to write a controversial, pot stirring post. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(The mere mention of Dr. Falwell's name seemingly causes people to squirm.)</span></div><div><br /></div><div>It's why I don't write about health care reform.</div><div><br /></div><div>Or being a stay-at-home mother versus a work-outside-the-home mom.</div><div>Breast fed or bottle.</div><div>Pro Life versus abortion rights.</div><div>Red states and blue states.</div><div>Gun control advocate or staunch supporter of 2nd Amendment rights.</div><div>Attachment parenting or Ferberizing.</div><div>Coke or Diet Coke.</div><div>Hank Williams Sr. versus Hank, Jr.</div><div>Natural nails or acrylic tips.</div><div>Target and Wal-Mart.</div><div>SPF 45 versus the tanning bed.</div><div><b>Lost </b>or...well...any other television program out there.</div><div><b><i>Ahem.</i></b></div><div><br /></div><div>The truth of the matter is I know very little about Gandhi. So I'm not one to pronounce that he is "in hell." Oh sure, I'm aware of those in our world who are filled with a piousness to rival the Pope's. Those super holy types who love nothing better than to sit around all day, pointing fingers, placing blame, and declaring, "Well if anyone's in hell, it's _______________."</div><div><br /></div><div>Really?</div><div><br /></div><div>Here's the deal.</div><div><br /></div><div>My belief system is firmly rooted in God. Not God, "whomever you deem that to be," as it is politely worded in certain circles. Uh-uh. I believe in God and His Son, Jesus. </div><div><br /></div><div>Respectfully I ask that you do not call me a Bible thumper. (The Bible I'm currently using is on my BlackBerry. Like I'd thump that modern marvel. Please.) I'm not "religious." I'm not holier-than-thou. In the same vein, I am not some intolerant, ignorant, small-minded, backwoods conservative who can't see the forest for the trees.</div><div><br /></div><div>I don't have all the answers. And let's be honest here...I don't have many answers, period. Here's what I can attest:</div><div>"<b><i>I know Whom I have believed, and am convinced that He is able to guard what I have entrusted to Him for that day</i></b>."--2 Timothy 1:12</div><div><br /></div><div>Simply stated--I know in Whom I believe and what these beliefs entail. I also know that God "has my back," and is protecting me forevermore. </div><div><br /></div><div>Do I have strong opinions on controversial subjects? Yes. As I told my friend who pondered about Dr. Falwell and Gandhi, I <b><i>do</i></b> have my views. And I don't apologize for these beliefs I hold deeply within my heart, because to do so would be to go directly against my God. </div><div><br /></div><div>Do I love and embrace those with a different set of morals, worldviews, standards, political and religious beliefs? <b><i>Absolutel</i></b><b><i>y</i></b>. Because to do so means that I'm fulfilling precisely what Jesus asked of me..."Love your neighbor as yourself." (Mark 12:31)</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm not perfect. I've never claimed to be. My feelings are very easily hurt. My tongue has a life of its own. I whine and complain more often than I care to admit. And sometimes I cry to God, "Seriously? Are these people FOR SERIOUS? Will You <i><b>do </b></i>something about these people?!?"</div><div><br /></div><div>Then He gently reminds me, "Child of mine, I love '<i>these people</i>' just as much as I love you." </div><div><br /></div><div>And that, my friends, is the only answer I have.</div><div><br /></div><div>Just thought y'all might need to know where I'm coming from. It's not all about me. Oh, I usually try to keep it centered upon me, me, me. But it's not.</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ1jFugZFzvEAow5C6hTu6rbWhce9aIGVx-kuu3Asr8zd4ogoN-13thixjfmnvTxKwUuAX4k9hN_Z6RNuQy1vX3Vl3-gb7ZdKQAwUpcS9J4ggI8ZnCBNyg3Vb2QJzqtCKZfWMeTKJpDrk/s1600-h/Photo+5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ1jFugZFzvEAow5C6hTu6rbWhce9aIGVx-kuu3Asr8zd4ogoN-13thixjfmnvTxKwUuAX4k9hN_Z6RNuQy1vX3Vl3-gb7ZdKQAwUpcS9J4ggI8ZnCBNyg3Vb2QJzqtCKZfWMeTKJpDrk/s400/Photo+5.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451330467664084162" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">(Vulnerable, at 1 am.)</div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">P.S. Thanks, Jordan, for sparking this conversation. You know I think so highly of you...and your intelligence...and your love of Twilight. Dude, did I just out you? xoxo</span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7544166618840499644.post-19734019764621455492010-03-14T20:30:00.008-04:002010-03-15T14:58:56.519-04:00Honey, Don't Patronize Me.<b><div>Here's the preface:</div><div><br /></div>-There are zero sponsors on Lulaville, as well as zero advertisements.</b><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>-I don't make a dime off my blog, nor has it ever been my intention to do so. Many of my fellow bloggy pals <i>do </i>earn revenue from their blogs, and for this I salute them. "Go, you!" is my mantra.</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>-If Lulaville has a "brand," it's certainly hard to sum up...is my brand...</b></div><div>*Random musings from this head full of useless information?</div><div>*I love Jason Statham more than you?</div><div>*Is there a bigger Sci-Fi lover than me?</div><div>*How is it even possible that you <b><i>don't</i></b> watch <b>Lost</b>?</div><div>*Southern belles who have tattoos and wear blue nail polish and hot pink Converse high-tops?</div><div><br /></div><div><b>-I have no problem with Lulaville being viewed as a "glorified, electronic scrapbook."* Because...guess what? <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><i>IT IS!</i></span></b></div><div><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Got it? Good. Let's move on, shall we?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Two years ago I met the women whom I now consider to be my best friends and confidantes. At the age of thirty-three I found my sister soulmates. Women who, at the risk of sounding utterly and shamelessly cheesy, complete me. Women I've flown across the country to visit. Women with whom I've vacationed. Whose husbands I've met. Whose lives are entwined with mine, as we grow, live, love, laugh, cry, and celebrate the bond of friendship.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6sgQw4a91nBz4zP-_c32jpX2Ab9dUinPrAxUTRZV_f58zI9eSdwBvrg_0ljLyU8uhrJ3Up6afnk-FlvY1eWfSVecerRFimo0V0n0OSlhrX60BB08xKXPc2P0ljNrGTv69GtOfgk4AXj8/s1600-h/v4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 383px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6sgQw4a91nBz4zP-_c32jpX2Ab9dUinPrAxUTRZV_f58zI9eSdwBvrg_0ljLyU8uhrJ3Up6afnk-FlvY1eWfSVecerRFimo0V0n0OSlhrX60BB08xKXPc2P0ljNrGTv69GtOfgk4AXj8/s400/v4.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448670778817236946" /></a><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I met <a href="http://www.mindlessjunque.blogspot.com/">Heather Blair</a> and <a href="http://www.onemomblogger.com/">Tiffany Romero</a> because of blogging. I knew Heather and Tiffany before they started their wonderful site, <a href="http://www.thesitsgirls.com/">The Secret Is In The Sauce</a>, a community which fosters support and friendship amongst women (and a few men!) in the blogging world.</div><div><br /></div><div>How thankful I am for SITS and the women I've met because of a simple website. Living in a small, very rural mountain town, I'm surrounded by wonderful people who are very much like me: caucasian, married, a parent, and evangelical Christian. Through SITS I have met women who are beautiful and intelligent. I'm honored to know ladies who labor at home as full-time mothers (such as myself), and women who are mothers <i><b>and</b></i> employed outside the home. </div><div><br /></div><div>Because of SITS I have friends who are Evangelical Christian, Jewish, 7th Day Adventist, Mormon, Agnostic, and Atheist. </div><div><br /></div><div>Because of SITS I have friends of all ages...single gals navigating their twenties, young mothers with new babies, women who have not yet become mothers, ladies who never plan to have children, and grandmothers who blog alongside their daughters.</div><div><br /></div><div>Because of SITS I am friendly with Democrats. See, we all really <b><i>can</i></b> get along!</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(I do jest...friendship is bipartisan.</span>)</div><div><br /></div><div>Because of SITS I am proud to be known as a "mommy blogger."</div><div><br /></div><div>Rather than refute an<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2010/03/14/fashion/14moms.html?pagewanted=1"> article </a>written by a <i>New York Times </i>author, about the recent Bloggy Boot Camp held in Baltimore by Tiffany and Heather, I choose to use this post to declare my love and support for my friends and fellow bloggers. Whether you're part of the "minivan crowd," or a mama blogger such as my friend, <a href="http://mayhemandmoxie.com/">Fran</a>, who happens to hold an M.B.A. (and uses this degree to be one excellent mother!), I salute you.</div><div><br /></div><div>Regardless of whether I know you "in real life," or if we've only "met" via our blogs, I salute you. </div><div><br /></div><div>To those of you who make a living off your blog...rock on! Have a particular brand, such as the brilliant Kathy, of <a href="http://www.mamakatslosinit.com/">Mama Kat's Losin' It</a>, or Jill from <a href="http://www.scarymommy.com/">Scary Mommy</a>? (Two ladies I'm proud to call "friend.") Awesome! </div><div><br /></div><div>Those of you who could care less about building a "brand" and instead use blogging as a creative outlet to celebrate your life and your loves, I applaud you.</div><div><br /></div><div>I quote Kathy, in her <a href="http://www.mamakatslosinit.com/2010/03/the-new-york-times-slams-mommy-bloggers/">post where she addressed this same subject</a>, "We're women, and we're amazing, and we don't need a newspaper to validate us."</div><div><br /></div><div>Precisely.</div><div><br /></div><div>And to my family, particularly my husband and my daughters, who've supported Lulaville from its inception, I say to you..."Feel free to interrupt me at any moment...because you, my loves, are far more important to me than this blog."</div><div><br /></div><div>But they already knew that.</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggvaqeLJIeRHVS0mrIOsvClUF0nw5zAFcbCGfb4rLe7C5xWGxuwHJnwy-gPqB4ocmK_mfF_gFDcHZBpvKIZhufP1_7jg5w8zsuo6nRemnaVbQlmD2GD_Vd3qHkccIpgHgp84-KohbZves/s1600-h/BG.jpeg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggvaqeLJIeRHVS0mrIOsvClUF0nw5zAFcbCGfb4rLe7C5xWGxuwHJnwy-gPqB4ocmK_mfF_gFDcHZBpvKIZhufP1_7jg5w8zsuo6nRemnaVbQlmD2GD_Vd3qHkccIpgHgp84-KohbZves/s400/BG.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448694910793347682" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div> </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">*Quote from the </span><a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2010/03/14/fashion/14moms.html?pagewanted=1"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">article </span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">written by Jennifer Mendelsohn, published in the New York Times, March 12, 2010.</span></div><div> </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com40tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7544166618840499644.post-7257547739463398092010-02-24T13:15:00.003-05:002010-02-24T13:18:53.385-05:00A Swift Kick In The Pants<div style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Sometimes we just need to be cheered on...</b></div><object width="560" height="340"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/d6wRkzCW5qI&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0xcc2550&color2=0xe87a9f"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/d6wRkzCW5qI&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0xcc2550&color2=0xe87a9f" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"></embed></object><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><b>Go, you!</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7544166618840499644.post-44262383189413381002010-02-10T13:15:00.005-05:002010-02-10T13:37:21.877-05:00And Since We've No Place To Go<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Donning a flirty pair of sandals...</span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw0AcJHKWIxAeb119VpyC1YMvxvlsTdr0Gnh_f9Tm3wxn4-xJYkZTgsRewZD-dkofykGG5488PkMfWmWd-r8hasoLZYjPHMs40RIFPXrucA4fxTYCOk4Fkwh6Sy0sZKO_uTglEiSCVth0/s1600-h/1029741-p-DETAILED.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw0AcJHKWIxAeb119VpyC1YMvxvlsTdr0Gnh_f9Tm3wxn4-xJYkZTgsRewZD-dkofykGG5488PkMfWmWd-r8hasoLZYjPHMs40RIFPXrucA4fxTYCOk4Fkwh6Sy0sZKO_uTglEiSCVth0/s400/1029741-p-DETAILED.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436681442000780274" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Grabbing a girly bag...</span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiPJ36sgBOszP70x0Sxt7hBHfsvfxbd-XlCeGDcjgUQzlLleHSlCa4Knc-InbB9cOWEHr-ITMuWc97rAtg6l3S17B0KwS_iz9WPXShp3D8HASMjH15I_iPYf0rdUbSQ4Ch-KJoGG3_i5E/s1600-h/14539_svmc_a0.jpeg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 284px; height: 284px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiPJ36sgBOszP70x0Sxt7hBHfsvfxbd-XlCeGDcjgUQzlLleHSlCa4Knc-InbB9cOWEHr-ITMuWc97rAtg6l3S17B0KwS_iz9WPXShp3D8HASMjH15I_iPYf0rdUbSQ4Ch-KJoGG3_i5E/s400/14539_svmc_a0.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436681435653152322" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">...And hopping a flight to paradise.</span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYntI7uv5c26hOVUV_1TRhTmGvJjJRYn3c_l-Kqbog8i4AaXVYZmffqgcJlwj3aclJYDFMkI0rsB5YgfFxIal5oHD7Srm99SsuwaPKDWEZv_D7ihzlVjcSlwRQg3GlL1mUvfLpzI1XxWY/s1600-h/beach7.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYntI7uv5c26hOVUV_1TRhTmGvJjJRYn3c_l-Kqbog8i4AaXVYZmffqgcJlwj3aclJYDFMkI0rsB5YgfFxIal5oHD7Srm99SsuwaPKDWEZv_D7ihzlVjcSlwRQg3GlL1mUvfLpzI1XxWY/s400/beach7.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436681434128878962" /></a><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">These people can stay buried here. </span> </div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh83jod4DyreUyaBqt3ORinudSZ5BQVAGWdKMyJNBEgmUZD3DOTMoj1D0kOgr1o6rMQb3aTj6A_1x8VU22NN_t4PS7z6EyNabWZPEcP-uxcuXWYXmp5pHi8vfoT_ci_0vX37tDHcePZeQE/s1600-h/DSC00693.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh83jod4DyreUyaBqt3ORinudSZ5BQVAGWdKMyJNBEgmUZD3DOTMoj1D0kOgr1o6rMQb3aTj6A_1x8VU22NN_t4PS7z6EyNabWZPEcP-uxcuXWYXmp5pHi8vfoT_ci_0vX37tDHcePZeQE/s400/DSC00693.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436681430331606274" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I may or may not return.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">And I may or may not send a postcard.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnBqcTEhHiIIt7hH6ap6_AKVYf4o3go7bisc-EfiXB3L76Dm2zqREbMnYp-4kc7VBfRYdmzKi6p9pmbyr8PaMuC0uAO7aeTWTIKBjsVhzeirSqr6M45SLzMM-K6My8oZGE5Ea4gcLXO40/s1600-h/slideshow_1185066_193139_Fashion_Miami_Beach_.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 255px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnBqcTEhHiIIt7hH6ap6_AKVYf4o3go7bisc-EfiXB3L76Dm2zqREbMnYp-4kc7VBfRYdmzKi6p9pmbyr8PaMuC0uAO7aeTWTIKBjsVhzeirSqr6M45SLzMM-K6My8oZGE5Ea4gcLXO40/s400/slideshow_1185066_193139_Fashion_Miami_Beach_.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436685052667640434" /></a></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><i>I'll be a water nymph.</i></b></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7544166618840499644.post-58751156924872564472010-02-02T00:01:00.001-05:002010-02-02T00:01:00.279-05:00The Beginning of The End.Today is February 2, 2010. <br /><br />It is bittersweet for me.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghp2YmVpsPj9AHKULoLqNbXtpeNi1gTBBMFJ2ao4e3LpjNgTlrif4jnK4L7aJ_c_epSu4BbSAV1QPBRvfDtWnA01wquwRNYIzziiQxcBDf7hK4MhzZPHpNNj4ApxKI_NX2ilxAygWsme0/s1600-h/official+lost+last+supper+promo+pic2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghp2YmVpsPj9AHKULoLqNbXtpeNi1gTBBMFJ2ao4e3LpjNgTlrif4jnK4L7aJ_c_epSu4BbSAV1QPBRvfDtWnA01wquwRNYIzziiQxcBDf7hK4MhzZPHpNNj4ApxKI_NX2ilxAygWsme0/s400/official+lost+last+supper+promo+pic2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426329713754673106" /></a>That is all.<div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7544166618840499644.post-52204522399359624322010-01-31T11:34:00.002-05:002010-01-31T12:03:33.431-05:00Eight Years.<div style="text-align: center;">I loved you before I knew you...</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6tdvCPigry8Be8_6hSBw82gZNy33-Jzuaw9vtXjmDcIOjhF586TWZclebtRKr_fV88YUGMgCAQSbdLrj-gXDq0PwNNFfD7amMwmOXWBva9DoXPNvF4mEsGHve34ShglLcXlxiuRgLo8w/s1600-h/BG.jpeg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6tdvCPigry8Be8_6hSBw82gZNy33-Jzuaw9vtXjmDcIOjhF586TWZclebtRKr_fV88YUGMgCAQSbdLrj-gXDq0PwNNFfD7amMwmOXWBva9DoXPNvF4mEsGHve34ShglLcXlxiuRgLo8w/s400/BG.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432947380803957586" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i><b>30 weeks in utereo...</b></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Mere hours after our first meeting</div><div><div style="text-align: center;">I loved you so much it took my breath away...</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglms8HLnPvJq1xmtZgOH5fckkKwuHf_uLwuGE8GJhF-Yd7GrajV5uH4HPL4ngGIy-HA5Y392G8FiHzkRL4_hh4eot5P7GNmi9qOUtuO2Frsyis-jNvppmOn66aPIderReR3iJYUWFvCZ0/s1600-h/BG.jpeg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglms8HLnPvJq1xmtZgOH5fckkKwuHf_uLwuGE8GJhF-Yd7GrajV5uH4HPL4ngGIy-HA5Y392G8FiHzkRL4_hh4eot5P7GNmi9qOUtuO2Frsyis-jNvppmOn66aPIderReR3iJYUWFvCZ0/s400/BG.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432947374751220978" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i><b>One day old...</b></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">And 8 years later, </div><div style="text-align: center;">You still take my breath away.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Every single day.</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIHqF0Q0za9_s1Tt0SANhWHurYbYZHlN7KouC8P2jIU0lFL3pG-f1JetwytNUf5OFzUXyVPzVu9xRik58S_1wGd4_wkWFVqsjN94_3ozyeewGu1UAmt4itGrlcf1F023lGyfKRAwwpxYM/s1600-h/DSC00692.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 294px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIHqF0Q0za9_s1Tt0SANhWHurYbYZHlN7KouC8P2jIU0lFL3pG-f1JetwytNUf5OFzUXyVPzVu9xRik58S_1wGd4_wkWFVqsjN94_3ozyeewGu1UAmt4itGrlcf1F023lGyfKRAwwpxYM/s400/DSC00692.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432947370332897554" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i>"I'm gonna watch you shine</i></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i>gonna watch you grow</i></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Gonna paint a sign so you'll always know</i></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i>As long as one and one is two</i></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i>There could never be a father (and mother!) </i></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i>who loves his daughter as much as I love you..."</i></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">(From Paul Simon's "Father & Daughter")</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Happy 8th Birthday, Mary Elizabeth "Libbey" Litton!</span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7544166618840499644.post-14747190658199954462010-01-26T09:00:00.000-05:002010-01-26T10:08:34.061-05:00Lunchable.Last Thursday Libbey asked me (and Sissy, too!) to join her for lunch at school..."They're serving cheesy breadsticks, corn, <b><i>and</i></b> salad, Mommy--I don't even want to bring my lunch from home!"<div><br /></div><div>How could I resist such an invitation?</div><div><br /></div><div>Caroline and I sat at a round table with Libbey and a few of her classmates, enjoying our food, waving to all the children who called out , "Hey Libbey's Mommy!" and chatting with several of the adults also present. (A close family friend, a cousin, and a church member...yes, my child is surrounded by loved ones throughout her day at school.)</div><div><br /></div><div>While eating, I also heard quite a few boisterous children. Noticed a couple of little girls who seemed rather withdrawn. Saw children cramming their mouths full with food...children whom I'm certain are not fed very well at home. </div><div><br /></div><div>With ribbons festooning both her hair and blouse, a younger friend of Libbey's made a great effort to wave to me. Sitting next to her was another little girl, wearing sweatpants far too large for her petite frame, a stained, short-sleeved t-shirt, and hair that may or may not have been washed since the dawn of 2010. </div><div><br /></div><div>I could barely choke down the remains of my meal.</div><div><br /></div><div>To keep myself from crying, I asked Libbey and her friends about the test they had just taken, on magnets & poles. ("I made a hundred!" each child promised.) </div><div><br /></div><div>When it came time for Libbey to return to her classroom, she hugged Caroline, hugged me, then walked off. Just as she got to the lunchroom door, she turned back and said, "Love y'all!"</div><div><br /></div><div>Precious.</div><div><br /></div><div>I made it to the parking lot before I fell apart. And I did fall apart...into a mess of weepy, blubbery tears.</div><div><br /></div><div>My child attends school each day in clean clothes, with freshly a washed head and face, as well as freshly scrubbed teeth (after her belly has been filled with breakfast, of course). I pack more than enough food for her lunch each day, and when I pick her up in the afternoon she knows I'll always proclaim, "I love you!" and inquire, "Did you have a good day?" </div><div><br /></div><div><b>Libbey is blessed</b>. I remind her of this daily. Just as I remind her that no matter when or where she goes, what she becomes, or how old she grows, I will <b><i>always</i></b> love her. I will always take care of her. I will always be there for her. </div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>I am blessed. </b></div><div><br /></div><div>Mothers...grandmothers...aunts...godparents...lovers of children...whichever category you fall into...go hug your child today. Because we are all blessed. </div><div><br /></div><div>And yes, I'm weepy again. When it comes to the love I have for my daughters, I am sappier than an episode of <i>Little House on the Prairi</i>e or <i>Dr. Quinn</i>. (Oh, Sully...) I don't apologize for this...not even when I fall apart in the parking lot of the elementary school. It's warranted.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcX0w-zMaALhlKf30mP5U9usCi76W3sNRVEVbW1TpvFHTTpEqFk-it0_pujFkDPexvaaDa3yCatm5CrjQQTGd1xTDBFCimffIyOJknu8tJMRGBa8xCvFf4_-ke6oLqFcrDsIWCeYUFDTo/s1600-h/184519866703_0_ALB.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 289px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcX0w-zMaALhlKf30mP5U9usCi76W3sNRVEVbW1TpvFHTTpEqFk-it0_pujFkDPexvaaDa3yCatm5CrjQQTGd1xTDBFCimffIyOJknu8tJMRGBa8xCvFf4_-ke6oLqFcrDsIWCeYUFDTo/s400/184519866703_0_ALB.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431064234400479362" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7544166618840499644.post-85083424889367712532010-01-18T21:19:00.008-05:002010-01-20T22:23:45.187-05:00An Early Valentine.Dear Love O' Mine,<br /><br /><div>I'm going public to make an announcement: I take you for granted.<br /><br />You're one of the biggest parts of my life. Always faithful. Consistently meeting my needs. Ready at a moment's notice, without complaint. By my side every single day. Yet I've failed to give you the respect and admiration you've rightfully earned.</div><div><br /></div><div><b><i>Please forgive me.</i></b></div><div><br /></div><div>I tend to be dramatic when it comes to my <del>obsessions</del> loves. Make no mistake...you are my favorite. I depend upon you, I love you, I do not know what I'd do without you. From henceforth I shall properly appreciate you.</div><div><br /></div><div>You've earned it, indeed.</div><div><br /></div><div>Forever grateful for the past 10 years,</div><div>Lula</div><div>xoxo</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq27ke5cLVZ6OJsYw-UVFljYARJJc11yOYGe9EJ9Z_ccACSufD7tJExFDuRK7B4qGu7yfTddtcDidZZ4owrJ3Qg4c82TlJskVXc7DgnQ-njhStyt4rlSU2QwoHDVEmm-JfTWVR9fcSAyA/s1600-h/swiffer001.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq27ke5cLVZ6OJsYw-UVFljYARJJc11yOYGe9EJ9Z_ccACSufD7tJExFDuRK7B4qGu7yfTddtcDidZZ4owrJ3Qg4c82TlJskVXc7DgnQ-njhStyt4rlSU2QwoHDVEmm-JfTWVR9fcSAyA/s400/swiffer001.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428276500028741602" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><b>It can't be wrong...when it feels so right...</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><b>'cause you...you light up my life!</b></span></div><br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Y'all know I love me some 70's Mellow Gold...<br />Serenade us, Debby.<br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ykO2zt5y9B0&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0xcc2550&color2=0xe87a9f"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ykO2zt5y9B0&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0xcc2550&color2=0xe87a9f" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object></div>Amen.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7544166618840499644.post-1781796858532002262010-01-12T15:48:00.003-05:002010-01-12T16:24:38.043-05:00Do You Realize The Street Value Of This Mountain?<div style="text-align: left;"><b>This is my life. This has been my life for the past 10 days. Seriously.</b></div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dx_uUxm4eOeRtuDVepO0H3cl6Cn0ETn1Z7fIPOXKarsTETQWyH9r2JZQ29jxVTo0FS44v2SXToDfO2r_cCr1w' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><b><br /></b></div><b><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><b>And if it's not clear...let me reiterate...DONE. OVER. SICK OF IT</b>.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">I need Starbucks in my life. Target. A good movie. A meal I didn't have to cook. ANYTHING which gets me out of this house. My sanity is dependent upon it. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Oh yes, global warming in full effect. Riiiiiiiiight. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> (Thanks, Cara.)</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div></b><br /><div><br /></div><div>p.s. Name the movie from which I stole this post's title. <a href="http://www.busybeelauren.blogspot.com/">Lauren</a>, you cannot participate in this one and you know why. Nor can <a href="http://www.landofbean.blogspot.com/">Cara</a> or<a href="http://www.mindlessjunque.blogspot.com/"> Heathe</a>r. But I love y'all...</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7544166618840499644.post-34744645279355209482010-01-06T15:10:00.003-05:002010-01-06T15:24:34.427-05:00Better Than The Mullet, I Guess.<div style="text-align: center;"><b>So...</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib9OU1l9XvDBK3kdosm55wJl9XFDuMjzLWO6hUk6LlrfFrnwNdgNrkg4YhaexxC0eJwmBDeoDzq2Sx6UseWMipE-Htm7KW1sdnBbOPfyub4tHA24DiK2kLBI4D5iSrqLRbGmGSZMCSjqY/s1600-h/KatePeople.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 313px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib9OU1l9XvDBK3kdosm55wJl9XFDuMjzLWO6hUk6LlrfFrnwNdgNrkg4YhaexxC0eJwmBDeoDzq2Sx6UseWMipE-Htm7KW1sdnBbOPfyub4tHA24DiK2kLBI4D5iSrqLRbGmGSZMCSjqY/s400/KatePeople.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423721934376978370" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><b>You're starting over!</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>As what?</div><div><br /></div><div>*Middle-aged Barbie?</div><div><br /></div><div>*The "they need a token-blonde" on <i><b>Jersey Shore</b></i>?</div><div><br /></div><div>*The <i><b>Twilight Saga'</b></i>s Rosalie? (Nikki Reed, I've never loved you more than I do now.)</div><div><br /></div><div>*A Scandinavian pop star?</div><div><br /></div><div>*A new girlfriend for Hugh Heffner? </div><div><br /></div><div>*Vegas showgirl?</div><div><br /></div><div>*Prospective date for Tiger Woods?</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I shouldn't criticize...who am I to judge? After all, it is better than that gross mullet she's been sporting for the past year. </div><div><br /></div><div>But seriously? New hair is a fresh start for Kate? How's she gonna manage extensions and her eight children? </div><div><br /></div><div>Please allow me to quote this fine gentleman:</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>"Lord, I apologize for that right there...</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>be with the starving pygmies in New Guinea.</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Amen!"</b></div><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/SdjAw0IhZS4&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0xcc2550&color2=0xe87a9f"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/SdjAw0IhZS4&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0xcc2550&color2=0xe87a9f" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com37tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7544166618840499644.post-53171049223229207862010-01-03T22:39:00.006-05:002011-10-11T23:55:37.450-04:00Sometimes I Just Don't Get It.Almost a billion dollars earned in revenue and people are still going to see this:<br />
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<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Avatar</span></i></b></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpfXmp9qlPluTc0buY3bsLJW2eVeDbEr6ILrkOlI9Urs7QipedNFPyMHLYxofd2Tm2SPNTlRoWZ3sGDRm4FLLrmM4p3x5vUaXNMo1F7Lr8BoNXiUykXbE9CapKwN1t6gBcBIXpkQ8DqEE/s1600-h/avatar.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422726922576225554" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpfXmp9qlPluTc0buY3bsLJW2eVeDbEr6ILrkOlI9Urs7QipedNFPyMHLYxofd2Tm2SPNTlRoWZ3sGDRm4FLLrmM4p3x5vUaXNMo1F7Lr8BoNXiUykXbE9CapKwN1t6gBcBIXpkQ8DqEE/s400/avatar.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 236px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
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Really?</div>
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No offense, James Cameron, but Scott and I were not impressed with the blue people. Oh yeah, Sam Worthington is rather enjoyable to look at, and the CGI was <b>top-notch</b>. But the storyline? Eh. The liberal propaganda? Eh. The run time of 2 hours and 42 minutes? Eh.</div>
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Whatever.</div>
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Now here's a movie which deserves to earn a billion dollars:</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b><i>Up in the Air</i></b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_8JwKp3XAM3s4lPgyoXm_VbrLu4uYxOfjtnuZnp-pIgcl764jcfpl3DtMnqZZCCDMkvMB2voc31073rePtOP6xmtqBSDyBH6UwxoE3W_E46g4puxAlwBf3qbj_QjaZTfBR2qvIha7plM/s1600-h/up_in_the_air.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422726919143299778" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_8JwKp3XAM3s4lPgyoXm_VbrLu4uYxOfjtnuZnp-pIgcl764jcfpl3DtMnqZZCCDMkvMB2voc31073rePtOP6xmtqBSDyBH6UwxoE3W_E46g4puxAlwBf3qbj_QjaZTfBR2qvIha7plM/s400/up_in_the_air.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 270px;" /></a><br />
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But it won't.</div>
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Sigh...</div>
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There's nothing I didn't love about this film...the screenplay, direction, cinematography, and soundtrack were top-notch. And the acting? Oh. My. Stars. George Clooney--the last of the real deal movie stars, in my opinion*--deserves the Academy Award for his portrayal of Ryan "What's In Your Backpack?" Bingham. </div>
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Also, if you thought Anna Kendrick was just some fly-by-night young actress in the<b><i> Twilight</i></b> saga...well, you're wrong. Her performance in <b><i>Up in the Air</i></b> is simply superb.</div>
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I'm a fan of classic black and white films. Remember real movie stars, such as Cary Grant, Grace Kelly, Jeanne Crain, and Jimmy Stewart? Pure class, I tell ya.</div>
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<b><i>Up in the Air</i></b> employs no gimmicks...no crazy special effects...no shoot 'em up scenes, no tasteless jokes. Oh, and no blue creatures. It's merely good storytelling. And classy performances from a cast that includes honest-to-goodness real life people, as well as talented actors.</div>
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<b><i>Avata</i></b>r, for me, was mind-numbing. <i><b>Up in the Air</b></i>, however, was stimulating...a cinematic breath of fresh air. Honestly, we need more movies like it. </div>
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But that's just my opinion. </div>
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How long until <b><i>Lost</i></b> returns? Just seeing if y'all are paying attention--you know, to what <i><b>really</b></i> matters.</div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">*</span></b></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVMV3GXNWZugFa3bwRf-Y2fH-FUUFMwroox62MLsFeOk6R6M0DuS4ALQYffhNo5fazfIuqiuyDNVqg0Sps_Kiy-bNeP7Z6rszlG-74wI8VO-kba4mXW4yPZTzy1zIp-Y1OYJaLnaa9oMs/s1600-h/den.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422731949141922226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVMV3GXNWZugFa3bwRf-Y2fH-FUUFMwroox62MLsFeOk6R6M0DuS4ALQYffhNo5fazfIuqiuyDNVqg0Sps_Kiy-bNeP7Z6rszlG-74wI8VO-kba4mXW4yPZTzy1zIp-Y1OYJaLnaa9oMs/s400/den.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 299px;" /></a><br />
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Don't wanna leave Denzel out...</div>
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he and George are, for me, the last of a dying breed.</div>
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The very definition of "movie star."<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">We're not going to speak of this. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">This. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">That happened last night.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Because I realize none of you watch Doctor Who.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">But it happened.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">The 10th Doctor has regenerated.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSqXPVSkWxdvWb_Wpxdl3Pxrzhb-CaM92k_UN0zVa7x4oz9O4G2WCzhCS9wFH3zS2vwvJS9FAGzoIzSc6pHYCaMRUf0z7zf1YpEDSFrsWtMWAdMfSldebZalMzgJ8qYp5XT1eBAQhlZT0/s1600/who-regeneration.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSqXPVSkWxdvWb_Wpxdl3Pxrzhb-CaM92k_UN0zVa7x4oz9O4G2WCzhCS9wFH3zS2vwvJS9FAGzoIzSc6pHYCaMRUf0z7zf1YpEDSFrsWtMWAdMfSldebZalMzgJ8qYp5XT1eBAQhlZT0/s320/who-regeneration.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">I love you David Tennant.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">You were a brilliant, perfect Doctor.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">But give me a while to get used to this Eleventh stuff.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">SOMEONE PLEASE HOLD ME.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">I have never cried as much during a TV show.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">HOW WILL I EVER MAKE IT THROUGH LOST'S ENDING?</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7544166618840499644.post-3352996862459696502009-12-29T17:48:00.011-05:002009-12-29T21:37:07.603-05:00No Expiration Date.A few weeks ago <i>Time</i> magazine's cover declared 2000-2009 "<a href="http://www.time.com/time/photogallery/0,29307,1942749,00.html">The Worst Decade Ever!</a>" Really? Sorry, <i>Time</i>, but this decade was pretty darn special for me. I married my soulmate, became mother to the two most beautiful children on the face of the planet, grew to love my Jesus even more, made wonderful new friends, rekindled old friendships, and nurtured relationships with ladies I've known most of my 35 years. <div><br /></div><div>See? Special. Indeed.</div><div><br /></div><div>The tunes of these most recent 10 years were pretty hard rockin', as well. There's no way I could list all of my favorite musical offerings of the past 3,650 days...but I will highlight 10* of them. For your listening pleasure. Because I'm cool like that. And because music is my <b><i>thing</i></b>, of course. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">"<a href="http://popup.lala.com/z5kH">Lovestoned/I Think She Knows,</a>" by Justin Timberlake</div><div style="text-align: center;">2006</div><div style="text-align: center;">It makes me dance. It's also <a href="http://www.onemomblogger.com/">Tiffany's</a> ringtone. 'Nuff said.</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtaxqO9djhmdTPQpQDrC_3NCf5gX8H9q7lgQ6StNLld1ft0SMUY5vKuizdv9OSlzXUmPkpWotN4Xx1wSBX_O2WL3LqT91i-8gua4kflqeEcLIwaCWdL7skGC-0VpOKXwFtFy51JNg_csk/s1600-h/41IMr7QT0oL._SL500_AA240_.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtaxqO9djhmdTPQpQDrC_3NCf5gX8H9q7lgQ6StNLld1ft0SMUY5vKuizdv9OSlzXUmPkpWotN4Xx1wSBX_O2WL3LqT91i-8gua4kflqeEcLIwaCWdL7skGC-0VpOKXwFtFy51JNg_csk/s400/41IMr7QT0oL._SL500_AA240_.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420826955144722722" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">As my husband relates, </div><div style="text-align: center;">"If you say you don't like JT, you're a LIAR!"</div><div style="text-align: center;">Word.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">"<a href="http://popup.lala.com/zbQz">Set the Fire to the Third Bar</a>," by Snow Patrol & Martha Wainwright</div><div style="text-align: center;">2006</div><div style="text-align: center;">Utterly & completely romantic.</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixykBWh-TO9uWm8BjvN9DX6K75HCzW5zqZ3ogSWIvGqeg4qXTV4O7q7InStVu-mMJ9KwpEZoEzRVZB9PuO8FYNW5CpbSsChHMvrxlVPxyH8vdIQ0f8HPGsppq8QgmkHCsU_ifatbO55m0/s1600-h/61KQCTBCJ5L._SL500_AA240_.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixykBWh-TO9uWm8BjvN9DX6K75HCzW5zqZ3ogSWIvGqeg4qXTV4O7q7InStVu-mMJ9KwpEZoEzRVZB9PuO8FYNW5CpbSsChHMvrxlVPxyH8vdIQ0f8HPGsppq8QgmkHCsU_ifatbO55m0/s400/61KQCTBCJ5L._SL500_AA240_.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420826950794258242" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i><b>"Your words in my memory, are like music to me..."</b></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">"<a href="http://popup.lala.com/zajR">Roslyn</a>," by Bon Iver & St. Vincent</div><div style="text-align: center;">2009</div><div style="text-align: center;">My favorite song of this past year...</div><div style="text-align: center;">...brilliantly written, performed, & produced. </div><div style="text-align: center;"> It's ethereal.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWmjBQBUOmEe_W_HEF7bAWEOscKuIcC1jLLnnkD7iV9toJnpsyf0EuXk09BMo5UlJ6tbGiRfLSqVuELhNMq0U-4BVfSouER_8UQvP-1dvZG4IIRz4-lVn9kQCt9ObqFvXOL0fgeS00UIU/s1600-h/51J8E1J81wL._SL500_AA240_.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWmjBQBUOmEe_W_HEF7bAWEOscKuIcC1jLLnnkD7iV9toJnpsyf0EuXk09BMo5UlJ6tbGiRfLSqVuELhNMq0U-4BVfSouER_8UQvP-1dvZG4IIRz4-lVn9kQCt9ObqFvXOL0fgeS00UIU/s400/51J8E1J81wL._SL500_AA240_.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420831473749819346" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">"<a href="http://popup.lala.com/zm9O">My Party</a>," by Kings of Leon</div><div style="text-align: center;">2007</div><div style="text-align: center;">I've loved these guys for years, long before they were uber famous.</div><div style="text-align: center;">It's just good, real, raw rock & roll. Plain and simple.</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJFotBpB-IkhKjJSAO1DveIKU3OMmwSr11bwA4Vr8TmQOemhtqJIHCJFJ5vMooRfZ2VmpYbdP3_GF0JixY5F1f5fQrx0_PVk7dBiIxIICCujJG8Gb-uMUIxUH6b9ky5R1EOdN4YZPjc9Q/s1600-h/51fB8JsJynL._SL500_AA240_.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJFotBpB-IkhKjJSAO1DveIKU3OMmwSr11bwA4Vr8TmQOemhtqJIHCJFJ5vMooRfZ2VmpYbdP3_GF0JixY5F1f5fQrx0_PVk7dBiIxIICCujJG8Gb-uMUIxUH6b9ky5R1EOdN4YZPjc9Q/s400/51fB8JsJynL._SL500_AA240_.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420825625320123362" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">"<a href="http://popup.lala.com/zbpe">Hysteria</a>," by Muse</div><div style="text-align: center;">2003</div><div style="text-align: center;">From one of my favorite bands comes one of my favorite songs.</div><div style="text-align: center;">It's edgy and glamorous, passionate and pleading...</div><div style="text-align: center;">everything I love in angsty rock!</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYDsX9lwCksWWipHolPW8rcLtxhAz0U7xflsMZeuWpffBHPJD8pa7qZ-AbOndBJ0uucmIKKVZwBt9iLB1AQ6be1OgT6_hM_WYgQ8VJNRyKmTWNIFIgGt2ypQ5wQkcEGcMReUpGrWJQQxc/s1600-h/41YT3CBMZRL._SL500_AA240_.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYDsX9lwCksWWipHolPW8rcLtxhAz0U7xflsMZeuWpffBHPJD8pa7qZ-AbOndBJ0uucmIKKVZwBt9iLB1AQ6be1OgT6_hM_WYgQ8VJNRyKmTWNIFIgGt2ypQ5wQkcEGcMReUpGrWJQQxc/s400/41YT3CBMZRL._SL500_AA240_.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420825621089131202" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i>"I want </i></b><b><i>you </i></b><b><i>now...I want </i></b><b><i>you </i></b><b><i>now...I feel my heart implode...</i></b><b>"</b></div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">"<a href="http://popup.lala.com/zcwq">Run</a>, " George Strait</div><div style="text-align: center;">2001</div><div style="text-align: center;">There's a reason this is the ringtone for my husband...</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQvYgMIGXqLZeHnJV2PZXwBjvCkOKfrPsE2khjHd8p8ibVlHC6PwRIVPdHaaQ-k08Jah4LZ_rn0C77c4iJwMCRLvr4LsfyttYyPE9aYiKQnVFGOHiMxAYDkSeb6XzazU2ELl-v-iALQSU/s1600-h/41YAPDBQAKL._SL500_AA240_.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQvYgMIGXqLZeHnJV2PZXwBjvCkOKfrPsE2khjHd8p8ibVlHC6PwRIVPdHaaQ-k08Jah4LZ_rn0C77c4iJwMCRLvr4LsfyttYyPE9aYiKQnVFGOHiMxAYDkSeb6XzazU2ELl-v-iALQSU/s400/41YAPDBQAKL._SL500_AA240_.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420825481203569346" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; ">"...straight in a straight line, you can't get here fast enough."</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i><br /></i></b></div></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">"<a href="http://popup.lala.com/zKAe">I Am Trying To Break Your Heart</a>," by Wilco</div><div style="text-align: center;">2002</div><div style="text-align: center;">Sigh...a song that tells a story...and a heartbreaking one, at that.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Genius, Jeff Tweedy. I applaud you.</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiV00jQKP1PdxnCW9GK7LBg4YlirusOpB0JJSkRXNy_dqzaeTTkfKVzd0OLSXNvMQFAu6yWd1flzkSFtRgJoF5wVEXRxzEfdEdIBohXc9_CJm8nkIMzugiY9d6mTjhKNlIkelR74Xgcfc/s1600-h/51jaJ3ZbJ8L._SL500_AA240_.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiV00jQKP1PdxnCW9GK7LBg4YlirusOpB0JJSkRXNy_dqzaeTTkfKVzd0OLSXNvMQFAu6yWd1flzkSFtRgJoF5wVEXRxzEfdEdIBohXc9_CJm8nkIMzugiY9d6mTjhKNlIkelR74Xgcfc/s400/51jaJ3ZbJ8L._SL500_AA240_.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420825476091364706" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">"<a href="http://popup.lala.com/zh2y">Love, Where Is Your Fire</a>," by Brooke Fraser</div><div style="text-align: center;">2008 (the <i><b>Live at the Aotea</b></i> version is my favorite)</div><div style="text-align: center;">The sound of my soul...the desire of my heart...the words of this song.</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimBlrXe689xOWa1PWdtzucZOJ6yPRMD5nMmK9SF7q63qzgpLl6yGCQbd1f7RFyjEk9RlUTLco0-AaLynzIRuxGhzLAFq_gEQ-29fZ3J2fS4RhJ8yMPfQPUoB-TDcdbqYiE6K-3Zmxmr4w/s1600-h/51rv3Bd+o5L._SL500_AA240_.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimBlrXe689xOWa1PWdtzucZOJ6yPRMD5nMmK9SF7q63qzgpLl6yGCQbd1f7RFyjEk9RlUTLco0-AaLynzIRuxGhzLAFq_gEQ-29fZ3J2fS4RhJ8yMPfQPUoB-TDcdbqYiE6K-3Zmxmr4w/s400/51rv3Bd+o5L._SL500_AA240_.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420825476102764962" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i>"Till the time when You come and I'm <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">whole</span> and we are <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">one</span>,</i></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i>and the fire in me is <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">complete</span>..."</i></b></div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">"<a href="http://popup.lala.com/zYDg">Ghost In This House</a>," by Alison Krauss & Union Station</div><div style="text-align: center;">2002</div><div style="text-align: center;">It's hauntingly beautiful, and I'm certain Alison's voice </div><div style="text-align: center;">is how angels sound.</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTJq0msa0uu7p-h6llRux3GuEwZSK2kFpolSJCASJhjzAlzFi9NqOqNRt5y_foA1AgaFWKmrI2gIZrUiIK6-Hx4mbN9N3H1QokFsqTPp55e04gXyWe50U5LdxC4IEjZDv2n99HWGSyC1A/s1600-h/51Vot3gMtLL._SL500_AA240_.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTJq0msa0uu7p-h6llRux3GuEwZSK2kFpolSJCASJhjzAlzFi9NqOqNRt5y_foA1AgaFWKmrI2gIZrUiIK6-Hx4mbN9N3H1QokFsqTPp55e04gXyWe50U5LdxC4IEjZDv2n99HWGSyC1A/s400/51Vot3gMtLL._SL500_AA240_.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420825466467258226" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">"<a href="http://popup.lala.com/zqTy">Reckoner</a>," by Radiohead</div><div style="text-align: center;">2007</div><div style="text-align: center;">Never before have the tambourine & cymbals made their presence known</div><div style="text-align: center;">so eloquently in a song.</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaDFhcGL_oIrJ_r9aTTm7JKUb58PqMJM0h72gicUmaF0Wy-A037E6fCzC4vzraB9za6tpbdSDcaIup9Jf1ausGh7m8qwzTS_RTWlwOsNydc-0hlFB7SFnbKRrRXmL3XtHMsVY36W6LtPs/s1600-h/61EROeqAf-L._SL500_AA240_.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaDFhcGL_oIrJ_r9aTTm7JKUb58PqMJM0h72gicUmaF0Wy-A037E6fCzC4vzraB9za6tpbdSDcaIup9Jf1ausGh7m8qwzTS_RTWlwOsNydc-0hlFB7SFnbKRrRXmL3XtHMsVY36W6LtPs/s400/61EROeqAf-L._SL500_AA240_.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420825461088236242" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">I'm not ashamed to admit that I've played this song </div><div style="text-align: center;">over 500 times in the past two years.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><b>"Because we separate...it ripples our reflections..."</b></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div style="text-align: center;">"Teenage Dirtbag," by Wheatus</div><div style="text-align: center;">2000</div></div><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/8jJWQkVgDs4&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0xcc2550&color2=0xe87a9f"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/8jJWQkVgDs4&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0xcc2550&color2=0xe87a9f" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br />*Yes, this makes song #11. But it's a story song--and, as previously mentioned, I love story songs. Plus this one was released when I was a newlywed and I'd drive around Spartanburg, South Carolina, singing it at the top of my lungs. Oh, the memories. Good times.<div><br /></div><div>Honorable mentions:</div><div>--"<a href="http://popup.lala.com/z5X">Bounce</a>," by Timbaland, Justin Timberlake, Dr. Dre, and Missy Elliott</div><div>Yes, it's dirrty, but it's my jam of the decade, with the best hook ever.</div><div><br /></div><div>--"<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4N3N1MlvVc4">Mad World</a>," by Gary Jules. </div><div>His cover of Tears for Fears' original is sublime. Still listen to it almost daily.</div><div><br /></div><div>--"<a href="http://popup.lala.com/zs3o">Sweet Sacrifice</a>," by Evanescence</div><div>Because when I grow up, I want to sing like (and look like!) Amy Lee.</div><div><b><i>"It's true...we're all a little insane..." </i></b></div><div><br /></div><div>"<a href="http://popup.lala.com/z4KY">Winter White Hymnal</a>," by Fleet Foxes</div><div>They're like the 2nd coming of Simon & Garfunkel. Love this band.</div><div><br /></div><div>--"<a href="http://popup.lala.com/zk3q">Say Please</a>," by Monsters of Folk</div><div>My 2nd most <i><b>favorite</b></i> song of 2009. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Now I wanna know...what songs/albums/artists have you enjoyed this decade? Please share!</div><div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7544166618840499644.post-3392281030581319032009-12-15T08:45:00.008-05:002009-12-21T22:57:33.284-05:00In Which We Keep It Real.Receiving mail is the highlight of my day during the month of December. I know, it takes so little to keep me happy. Opening Christmas cards from friends near and far is like opening a tiny present from each family the card represents. 80% of the cards we receive are photos, and if we're super lucky, the card will contain a newsy "our year in review" letter.<div><br /></div><div>I love these letters. </div><div><br /></div><div> I especially love the letters from Perfect Families.* You know, the ones where we read that Bill received a substantial raise, Mary was named Hottest Housewife in the Tri-County Area, Billy was nominated for the Heisman, and Sally was not only valedictorian, but also prom queen, class president, and 1st runner up to Junior Miss North Carolina. (Hey, can't win 'em all, Sally.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Every year I ponder sending out a "Litton Family Newsletter 2009" with our Christmas cards. I mean, I'd love to <s>brag</s> <b><i>share</i></b> our family's accomplishments:</div><br /><div>*Litton Family Medicine was named local business of the year by the Chamber of Commerce, and continues to grow daily.</div><div>*Leigh Anne was invited to speak at a blog conference in Las Vegas.</div><div>*Libbey made the All-A Honor Roll for the second year in a row.</div><div>*Caroline memorized 20 Bible verses this Fall.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">S</span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">NOOZE!</span> </b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><b></b></span><b> How boring! And really...who cares? </b></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Maybe this family cares:</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5XN8YYT3V3CkwrRSsSKO1DvezZXVx5Js2TErwaiMFrUxdw939VxhE1OjIiWNVHVgXYl1ZNX1ZnEeiCCG0jt45cV-kzWJOImW3Zlo_RUW3QIqUvaKj7JzWnHWeo1Wab97-D42lIpZksHU/s1600-h/abc_brady_bunch_070404_ssh.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 310px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5XN8YYT3V3CkwrRSsSKO1DvezZXVx5Js2TErwaiMFrUxdw939VxhE1OjIiWNVHVgXYl1ZNX1ZnEeiCCG0jt45cV-kzWJOImW3Zlo_RUW3QIqUvaKj7JzWnHWeo1Wab97-D42lIpZksHU/s400/abc_brady_bunch_070404_ssh.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417892232937838994" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i>W</i></b><i><b>ho can attain such cheesy perfection?</b></i></div><br /></div><div>Wouldn't it be far more intriguing if, unlike The Perfect Family, our "Litton Family Newsletter 2009" was brutally honest?</div><div><br /></div><div>How would it be received if I were to mail the real dope deal to our family and friends? You know, stuff such as...</div><div><br /></div><div>*Our town's beloved pediatrician relocated to another part of Virginia, hence the reason Litton Family Medicine continues to grow. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">("Well, if my kid can't see Dr. Ahsan, might as well go to that Dr. Litton, since I don't wanna drive to Kingsport, TN.")</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">*Leigh Anne was invited to speak at the blog conference because said event was being run by two of her best friends. Nepotism at its finest, y'all!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">*Libbey made her first "B" this year--on a Math test. We fully fussed at her, which, in turn, made her cry for an hour. <i>We make "A's" in this family, ya hear? No "B's" shall be tolerated! </i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(Parents of the year. Yep, that's us. She's 7, by the way. We've since asked her forgiveness.)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">*Caroline will only say her Bible verses while in Awana. After being bribed with lollipops and juice boxes. And who can blame her? Reciting God's Word is hard work for a 4 year old.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /><div style="text-align: center;">This is real.</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgCtC68ycGOCSrSs-VSQCpngcRCOrovcV1M_UkUNgihRyqjVdEJb4XfmQ5oqncFUHH4g7P04XBp1BMMPUnZlUP2_PqA1WCs5UkhT7QCk8jPv1fbo5_yMKqY-ugY_u3qiz1IYurLc_Yxok/s1600-h/BG.jpeg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgCtC68ycGOCSrSs-VSQCpngcRCOrovcV1M_UkUNgihRyqjVdEJb4XfmQ5oqncFUHH4g7P04XBp1BMMPUnZlUP2_PqA1WCs5UkhT7QCk8jPv1fbo5_yMKqY-ugY_u3qiz1IYurLc_Yxok/s400/BG.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417893020477757170" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Libbey's 1st Christmas, 2002</i></b></div><br /><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I'd also love to include even more personal tidbits such as:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">*Scott plays way too much Xbox Live with Robbie, our brother-in-law.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">*Leigh Anne gained weight, despite having a home gym equipped with an elliptical machine, treadmill, and Bowflex. Apparently one has to <i><b>use</b></i> the gym in order to see results. Gotcha.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">*Libbey's Obsessive Compulsive Disorder seems to grow stronger with each passing year. Any hope for her to inherit the laidback "Roth genes" is fading fast. She's pure Litton.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">*Caroline's strong-willed nature continues to drive our family closer to Jesus. We pray a lot. So that we don't kill her.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">And...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">*2009 found the Litton family journeying on fun and educational field trips, to places such as Mt. Airy, NC, (where "Mayberry" is brought to life, because <i>The Andy Griffith Show</i> is beloved by Scott and the girls), and Hilton Head Island, SC, where we taught our daughters to appreciate a sunny day and the She-Crab soup at <i>Charley's Crab</i>.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Ahem.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Even more highlights:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">*Allowed the television to babysit our daughters while we cleaned (and by "we," I clearly mean Leigh Anne), or napped (Scott).</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">*Pawned our children off on Nanna & Poppy or "Papaw" Bill & "Memaw" Kim Cress so that we could have regular date nights. A meal, Starbucks, and frequent trips to Target our vital to our marriage.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">*Fed our girls a nutritious supper of Honey Nut Cheerios more than once. Or Twice. A month.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">*Took naps, drank peanut butter milkshakes, watched Andy Griffith 9342 times, baked cookies, and listened to Lady Gaga, all with our daughters, in the name of Litton Family Togetherness. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">*Oh, and we also traveled to Austin and Las Vegas. Without our children. 'Cause it's not all about them.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><b>*GASP!*</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">I'll say it again...<b>it's not all about our children.</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>*GASP!*</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><b> </b></span></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4juKFlX6gvzYLhwJnjTiqqrS9nL8Nq4QQMxbTOhfMlhsCZ-SMoji3OQ4oZW_Vw_UPIPWTsv3LSf-vClsdZ5ovp53H44RJnqzp_opqW0L-E_HDLd1ktjcdRIcvek6bANCAUwqJNkqINL8/s1600-h/BG.jpeg" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4juKFlX6gvzYLhwJnjTiqqrS9nL8Nq4QQMxbTOhfMlhsCZ-SMoji3OQ4oZW_Vw_UPIPWTsv3LSf-vClsdZ5ovp53H44RJnqzp_opqW0L-E_HDLd1ktjcdRIcvek6bANCAUwqJNkqINL8/s400/BG.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417893785382360962" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Christmas 2006...we were all over the picture-taking by this point.</i></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">We may not be the perfect family, but we follow a perfect Savior. And, as Linus so succinctly put it, "That's what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown." Indeed. Now that's the real dope deal.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">Merry Christmas from the imperfect Littons!!!</span></span></i></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">*If you've sent me a "newsletter" this Christmas, please know I am NOT referencing you with this post. The families of which I speak do not read my blog. And if they do...then...rock on! I'm just keeping it r</span></span><i>eal.</i></b></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com45tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7544166618840499644.post-1654065183799483432009-12-14T08:41:00.003-05:002009-12-14T08:57:36.820-05:00Please Caption This Hilariousness...This is my niece, Helen, whom I adore. (And who adores me--seriously--I'm one of her faves. Which I'll continue to brag about until she has nothing to do with me.) Helen is 18 months old, and clearly so ahead of her game:<div><br /><div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><b>Boys, schmoys.</b></span><b>..</b></span></div></i></b></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaqOZTJ7qyBI_p0DWQX1uoBQO2s4wSdirBn7oJ1JLhxsRa4sUJ7wxsZLW3CZ_FIqqOQv3Js5EgMz2KBcEt56h_ZexYXJRyoKUL2tagDnZMXcTclEZWEhLmUk6JdXU0ivM7Tv1XoAornog/s1600-h/BG.jpeg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaqOZTJ7qyBI_p0DWQX1uoBQO2s4wSdirBn7oJ1JLhxsRa4sUJ7wxsZLW3CZ_FIqqOQv3Js5EgMz2KBcEt56h_ZexYXJRyoKUL2tagDnZMXcTclEZWEhLmUk6JdXU0ivM7Tv1XoAornog/s400/BG.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415086722421568386" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">That's right, baby...</div><div style="text-align: center;">you just keep that attitude until you're 22.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XDTibf0qIzw&feature=related">"Don't pay him any attention..."</a></span></i></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">*Mandy, please let me know whose child this is. His hair is killing me. So is his Adidas. And do we love that Helen is completely nonplussed in his presence? We do. Of course we do.</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com41tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7544166618840499644.post-34629262619038699872009-12-10T23:25:00.004-05:002009-12-11T12:52:43.182-05:00Hey, Y'all!So...<br />Last Friday was my birthday and without going into detail, trust me when I share with y'all that it was not exactly the finest day of my life. In fact, it sucked. Plain and simple.<br /><br />Thank God for friends like <a href="http://www.thesitsgirls.com/">The Sits Girls</a>, also known as <a href="http://www.mindlessjunque.blogspot.com/">Heather</a> and<a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.onemomblogger.com"> Tiffany</a>, who come to my rescue with encouraging, loving phone calls, and virtual hugs across the miles that separate us. Oh, and fabulous birthday gifts. <b><i>Really </i></b>fabulous gifts. <div><br /></div><div>I'd be lost without these girls. Seriously. They have my heart.</div><div><br /></div><div>They've given me yet another gift today--I'm being featured over on <a href="http://www.thesitsgirls.com/">SITS</a>! To Heather and Tiffany I say, "Thank you--I love you--V4&After!!!" To the rest of y'all, I say..."I'm so sorry I had nothing clever/inspiring/heartwarming/salacious to share with y'all today. Please forgive me, and as Heather is famous for saying, 'love me through it!'"</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh, and welcome to Lulaville! I get kinda crazy up in here...with my love for Lost, angsty rock, all things Sci-Fi, YA novels, Paula Deen, distinguished British actors, and my boyfriend...Jason Statham.* But stick around for a while and become my new BFF. A girl can never have too many BFFs. Amen!</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzJQFq08gAiGHQ1BkO9hQqHqZRvsw206teMy9IFX75T6UvPyWSErqZp2EFKKhAIPghqDe8UWnt2FxpRNpU-K1nS8ihhfQJtfB8RhmxeHi6kW7Tyazdo-94Od8RLWwifmyIncEAYpTSlyY/s1600-h/V4&After.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzJQFq08gAiGHQ1BkO9hQqHqZRvsw206teMy9IFX75T6UvPyWSErqZp2EFKKhAIPghqDe8UWnt2FxpRNpU-K1nS8ihhfQJtfB8RhmxeHi6kW7Tyazdo-94Od8RLWwifmyIncEAYpTSlyY/s400/V4&After.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383661178610420658" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Tiffany, Lula, and Heather.</div><div style="text-align: center;">In Mexico.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Yes, I said <b><i>Mexico</i></b>.</div><div style="text-align: center;">We brought the boys to the yard. Clearly.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(Without the aid of a Miracle Bra, for the record. Cough-cough.)</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">*Please love him with me. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://photobucket.com/images/jason%20statham" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; "></span></a><a href="http://photobucket.com/images/jason%20statham" target="_blank"><img src="http://i278.photobucket.com/albums/kk87/cherrymami02/jasonsatham.jpg" border="0" alt="Jason statham Pictures, Images and Photos" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Hi, Jason.</div><div style="text-align: center;">You can be my birthday present. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Ahem.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com235