<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474673469514747905</id><updated>2011-08-01T11:15:38.762-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Renaissance Quest</title><subtitle type='html'>"You are the trip I did not take;
You are the pearls I cannot buy;
You are my blue Italian lake;
You are my piece of foreign sky."  Anne Campbell 1888</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zoobie926.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474673469514747905/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zoobie926.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Aleta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00194307509325411933</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>14</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474673469514747905.post-7101056494466100037</id><published>2011-03-20T17:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-25T11:00:28.409-07:00</updated><title type='text'>dance in the rain</title><content type='html'>Today, March 20, 2011, is our 36th wedding anniversary.  The years have flown by and much has changed since March 20, 1975.  For example, 36 years ago no one owned a computer, cell phone, dvd player, ipod, or digital camera.  There was no such thing as the internet.  Star Wars wasn't a household name yet.  Aids was not a regular part of our vocabulary.  There were no skateboarders, or snowboarders. "Goth" was something associated with cathedrals. Thongs were something you wore on your....feet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There have been other changes that have taken place.  Many family members who were at our wedding have passed on.  Beloved grandparents, aunts, uncles, and my father, are no longer here to love and guide us.  New family members have been born.  Little did we know that we would be become parents to five WONDERFUL people.  Now &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;we&lt;/span&gt; are the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;grandparents. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life was full of hope and promise the day we married.  It did not always turn out the way I envisioned.  I never thought I would out live a grandchild.  Ella Goodwin should have been five years old 10 days ago.  I never thought one of my children would frequent the inside of a jail, or marry a tattoo artist in a drunken stupor in Vegas.  However, in many ways, life has turned out more wonderful than I could imagine.  I did not know then that we we would have a daughter grow up to become a civil engineer, or a daughter major in pre-law, or a son graduate from the Metropolitan Las Vegas Police Department.  I did not know that the three daughters I would have would become my best friends, or that I would learn to love my son's wife, Racquel, so much.  These wonderful, talented women have filled a long standing gap in my life because I never had a sister.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man I married 36 years ago is no longer a young, skinny, youth.  His hair is now white instead of the dreaded red color (I always liked the color of his hair).  Through 36 years he has remained faithfully by my side, helping and comforting me, always working to support his family. He has proved to be the best husband and father. I chose well. We have weathered many trials and sorrows, but still laugh together.  The past 36 years have taught me that life is not just learning to dance...it's learning to dance in the rain.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474673469514747905-7101056494466100037?l=zoobie926.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zoobie926.blogspot.com/feeds/7101056494466100037/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4474673469514747905&amp;postID=7101056494466100037' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474673469514747905/posts/default/7101056494466100037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474673469514747905/posts/default/7101056494466100037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zoobie926.blogspot.com/2011/03/life-is-but-dream.html' title='dance in the rain'/><author><name>Aleta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00194307509325411933</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474673469514747905.post-6155294946018924321</id><published>2011-03-09T09:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-09T12:48:24.487-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Keeping it good with God</title><content type='html'>I do my best to stay on God's good side. I have found it very beneficial to have an "in" with the Big Man upstairs. Why? Because I need alot of favors from Him. It's a tough life and I find the challenges are getting harder the older I get. Since I have the luxury of sleeping through the night for the first time in decades, I've become more aware of my surroundings. There's alot going on in this world and most of it's scary. Now, I not only worry for my children, but I worry for my grandchildren. So most of the favors I ask for are for my family and friends. I pray in my sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I slow down long enough to think about it, I realize God has always been there for us, protecting and guiding us in ways we are too distracted to notice. Like the time Aubrey was in a car accident with a semi. She and Larry should have been crushed like their car, but they walked away from the accident to the amazement of the police officers who reported it. Then there was the time Erin was coming back from a late night date and the young man she was with fell  asleep at the wheel and their car somersaulted who knows how many times... and she wasn't hurt. Then there was the time when Aidan was the Sevier County fire warden and his engine got caught in a burn over...and he was spared. Then there's Austin....well he's worn out several guardian angels by now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think of the time I looked into the eyes of a serial killer and was warned to not accept the ride he was offering. He turned out to be Ted Bundy. I lived because I was guided by an unseen Force. When my husband, Scott, was on a mission in England, he was once riding his bike downhill at break-neck speed when a car door opened into him sending him somersaulting into the air. Like a cat he landed on his feet still holding the projector he was carrying... there wasn't even a scratch on him. Then there was the time his car stalled for no good reason at a stop light one foggy morning (we were newlyweds living in Logan). Had he proceeded into the intersection when the light turned green he would have been nailed by a semi sliding through the intersection unable to slow down or stop because of icy roads. It came unseen from his left and would have killed him. There are many other instances when our lives have been spared and we have been guided by the Divine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So when God asks me to do something...like keep the Sabbath Day holy... I obey.  I've learned a few things about God.  He loves &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;all&lt;/span&gt; His children, but he favors the righteous ones... you know... the ones who love Him enough to keep His commandments.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474673469514747905-6155294946018924321?l=zoobie926.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zoobie926.blogspot.com/feeds/6155294946018924321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4474673469514747905&amp;postID=6155294946018924321' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474673469514747905/posts/default/6155294946018924321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474673469514747905/posts/default/6155294946018924321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zoobie926.blogspot.com/2011/03/keeping-it-good-with-god.html' title='Keeping it good with God'/><author><name>Aleta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00194307509325411933</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474673469514747905.post-1140512556455922287</id><published>2011-02-03T07:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-09T13:18:30.093-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Real Men</title><content type='html'>I was born in 1955, not that long ago.  This was a time when most women did not work outside the home.  Men were the breadwinners.  Obviously their work took them outside the home.  "Women's work" was inside the home.  Women's work comprised &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;all&lt;/span&gt; the cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping, the bearing and raising of children, and doing the laundry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In those days laundry was often done by using a ringer washer.  This contraption had two tubs.  One tub was filled with soapy water for the dirty clothes to be washed in.  The other tub was filled with clear rinsing water for the clothes to be rinsed in. In between the two tubs was a ringer, or two rollers situated parallel to each other in a horizontal position that was hand cranked.  A wash board was placed in the soapy water.  Dirty clothes were scrubbed clean BY HAND on it.  The luxury item was the ringer.  It made it so the clothes did not have to be wrung out by hand.  After scrubbing the clothes they were rolled through the ringer which wrung the soapy water out before the clothes were rinsed.  Once the clothes were rinsed they were put through the wringer again then hung out to dry using a solar clothes dryer...a clothes line.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doing the laundry this way was labor intensive and would take most of a day to do depending on how much dirty laundry there was.  I can remember my mother washing our clothes this way many times.  Diapers were the worst.  There was no such thing as disposable diapers then.  Mother had six children.  She washed alot of laundry.  Her hands were always red from exposure to detergents and hot water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never saw my father do laundry, clean the house, or wash dishes.  He would cook once in a blue moon.  He and mother had an understanding, a division of labor.  He earned the money and supported his family.   She worked in the home taking care of us, which was a full time job, in addition to cooking, cleaning... and washing mountains of laundry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad was a real man. He felt it was his responsibility to provide for his family since he chose to get married and have children.  I never heard him whine about having to support a wife and six children.  It wasn't easy with so many mouths to feed.  He always had a job, sometimes he had as many as three jobs.  Real men take care of their own.  But the reality is they would rather earn a paycheck than do the  cleaning, nurse babies, change poopy diapers... or do the laundry.  Earning a paycheck is so much easier.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474673469514747905-1140512556455922287?l=zoobie926.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zoobie926.blogspot.com/feeds/1140512556455922287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4474673469514747905&amp;postID=1140512556455922287' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474673469514747905/posts/default/1140512556455922287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474673469514747905/posts/default/1140512556455922287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zoobie926.blogspot.com/2011/02/real-men.html' title='Real Men'/><author><name>Aleta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00194307509325411933</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474673469514747905.post-5097012992388159227</id><published>2011-01-16T20:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-17T08:27:14.327-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Crown Jewels</title><content type='html'>I'm not a jewelry person, never have been.  99.9% of the jewelry I see does not entice me to buy it.  I don't own a diamond.  I never wanted one, not even in my wedding ring.  I just wanted a simple  wedding band when I was married.  The ring I have is a beautiful two-toned ring made with white and yellow gold.  I don't know the difference between a cubic zar-something-or-other and the real thing.  My mother, on the other hand, collects jewelry.  There is once piece she has that has always intrigued me in a hypnotic way.  It rivaled the crown jewels.  It lived in a velvet covered box my entire childhood.  It was so special  I was never allowed to touch it, let alone wear it.  It was made of the most beautiful hue of rich purple delicately intertwined in duo strands with the palest lavender.  A symphony of elegance.  Serious bling in choker length.  It was dazzling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were times, when mom was gone for an evening, when I would indulge myself in clandestine peeks at the forbidden necklace.  I would carefully lift it out of its nest of top drawer scarves and open the lid with bated breath.  It was never disturbed since I would never take it out of it's protective velvet home.  Like the Magi that came to the Baby Jesus, I would just adore it in all it's sparkling glory.  I never wore it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward three decades.  It is Erin's Junoir Prom.  She is wearing the most beautiful dark forest green dress.  It is haute couture in the purest sense.  She looks absolutely...Vogue.  For some reason I think of mom's crown jewels and bravely ask if Erin can wear them to  Prom.  Grandparents always favor their grandchildren.  Dad used to say, "Grandchildren are the reward you get for not killing your children."  Mom reluctantly agreed on the condition I would be sold into slavery if anything happened to that necklace.  I have always trusted Erin.  She is more...cautious with life than some of my children have been.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I picked up the necklace, it was discovered that a few of the stones had become loose and would need to be set back in.  I was instructed to take the necklace to a jeweler's to have it repaired.  I took it to a reputable jewelry store ready to pay whatever it cost to have the family heirloom repaired.  Imagine my surprise when I was informed that they would not repair the necklace.  "Why not?"  I asked.  Was it too expensive to repair?  No.  They only repair jewelry with "real" stones.  It slowly dawned on me that the necklace was a fake!!  All this time....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took the necklace home and carefully epoxied the "stones" back into their settings myself.  Erin wore it anyway. The necklace had lost its status as crown jewels.  It was only made of colored glass.  Yet, it still dazzled and sparkled on its special night out.  The way I had always remembered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere there is a moral in this. What do you think it is?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474673469514747905-5097012992388159227?l=zoobie926.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zoobie926.blogspot.com/feeds/5097012992388159227/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4474673469514747905&amp;postID=5097012992388159227' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474673469514747905/posts/default/5097012992388159227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474673469514747905/posts/default/5097012992388159227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zoobie926.blogspot.com/2011/01/im-not-jewelry-person-never-have-been.html' title='Crown Jewels'/><author><name>Aleta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00194307509325411933</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474673469514747905.post-6358286498774457838</id><published>2010-02-06T20:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-07T07:41:09.472-08:00</updated><title type='text'>TAME THE CLUTTER BEAST!</title><content type='html'>I can't stand clutter! Clutter is like weeds in your home. If you are not constantly getting rid of it, it &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;will &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;take over. I am amazed at how much clutter some people live in. A few years ago I helped a couple move. I could not believe the clutter!!! They kept &lt;em&gt;everything.&lt;/em&gt; Newspapers were everywhere and mice had moved into them. They could only get into bed from one side because clutter filled the room on the other sides. Canned food had gone bad and needed to be thrown out. It would have been easier to torch the place and start over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;FACT: You can't keep a home clean with clutter. &lt;/strong&gt;Here are 4 rules I live by to tame the clutter beast:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1. USE IT OR LOOSE IT!!!!! &lt;/strong&gt;If you have not used it in a year get rid of it!!! You don't need it. This goes for everything, clothes, shoes, kitchen gadgets, makeup, etc. If you're not sure you can part with something, put it in a box, seal it, and store it. If, after a year you have not used what's in the box get rid of it. No peeking. Throw it away or give it away.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2. Simplify, Simplify, Simplify&lt;/strong&gt;. I only have 2 sets of sheets per bed &lt;em&gt;at most&lt;/em&gt;. One set is on the bed of course, and the spare set is stored in the linen closet. This saves &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;alot&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; of money. Most of us have a washer and dryer. You can wash and dry a load of laundry in an hour. Save yourself money by only buying the minimum of anything, clothes, shoes, coats, etc. Live frugally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3. Get rid of the clutter! Take it to the the D.I. or throw it away.&lt;/strong&gt; I'm forever taking stuff to the D.I. then I use the donations as a tax write off. &lt;strong&gt;In dealing with clutter here are your options: &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Keep it &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Give it away &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;T&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;hrow&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; it away.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Put your clutter in one of these 3 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;categories&lt;/span&gt;.  If you keep it, make sure you use it (rule #1).  There are some things I keep for sentimental reasons (like my wedding dress). They don't count. But I'm even getting harsh with pictures.  I keep only the best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4. If something is broken or worn out, get rid of it. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Don't keep junk.&lt;/em&gt; I'd rather have a little of something nice than a lot of junk. And just because you might be "economically challenged" doesn't mean you have to keep junk. Take pride in your environment and yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One final thought: A clutter free home reduces the chance of injuries due to accidents. It is also a cleaner home. A cleaner home is a healthier home which will save you thousands of dollars on medical bills due to illness and/or accidents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So...&lt;strong&gt;use it or loose it! &lt;/strong&gt;Free yourself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474673469514747905-6358286498774457838?l=zoobie926.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zoobie926.blogspot.com/feeds/6358286498774457838/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4474673469514747905&amp;postID=6358286498774457838' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474673469514747905/posts/default/6358286498774457838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474673469514747905/posts/default/6358286498774457838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zoobie926.blogspot.com/2010/02/clutter-buster-secrets.html' title='TAME THE CLUTTER BEAST!'/><author><name>Aleta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00194307509325411933</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474673469514747905.post-6740142136739770415</id><published>2010-01-19T09:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-19T20:58:49.544-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Canada Goose not Canadian Goose</title><content type='html'>There is a new love in my life. Recently I have spent hours staring at this new love with desperate fascination. I'm so infatuated that I'm into serious stalking...with binoculars. So what if the object of my obsession has feathers. I'm not ashamed to admit that I am on my way to becoming a &lt;em&gt;serious &lt;/em&gt;Birder. Don't laugh. The birds are safe. In spite of my most stealthy self, they won't let me get close.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last weekend I witnessed something rare among the Anseriformes at Heppler's Ponds. In the midst of 200 waterfowl emerged 6 Canada Geese which were in the aristocratic company of 4 Tundra Swans! I watched, transfixed, as the unusual group swam to the edge of the pond, got out, waddled across the snow and took off &lt;em&gt;together.&lt;/em&gt; Wow. It was surprising to see how much the svelte Swans towered over their unlikely companions. I did not know Tundra Swans and Canada Geese hung out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the end of this semester I must identify 200 species of our avian friends for an ornithology class. What an exciting challenge. By the way...the Red Jungle Fowl is the ancestor to what bird? (Hint: it tastes like chicken).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474673469514747905-6740142136739770415?l=zoobie926.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zoobie926.blogspot.com/feeds/6740142136739770415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4474673469514747905&amp;postID=6740142136739770415' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474673469514747905/posts/default/6740142136739770415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474673469514747905/posts/default/6740142136739770415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zoobie926.blogspot.com/2010/01/new-lo.html' title='It&apos;s Canada Goose not Canadian Goose'/><author><name>Aleta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00194307509325411933</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474673469514747905.post-492890842362054168</id><published>2009-12-01T07:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-22T14:14:16.509-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Late last Wednesday evening John Jones died. I never met him, but have been haunted by the tragic death of this medical student who perished in Utah's Nutty Putty Cave. All frantic efforts by 130 search and rescue volunteers failed to save him, and after being stuck upside down for 27 hours in the dark, he died. He was only 26 and left behind a pregnant wife, a 14 month old daughter, parents, siblings, and friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Death is a wake up call, a constant reminder that life is only temporary. No one expected John to die so suddenly. Now he's gone, permanently entombed in the cave that claimed his life. Death is a thief that robs us of loved ones. It is sneaky and unpredictable and often calls when we least expect it.  The lesson it teaches is that we cannot afford to take people for granted. You never know when they will no longer be around to irritate you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474673469514747905-492890842362054168?l=zoobie926.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zoobie926.blogspot.com/feeds/492890842362054168/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4474673469514747905&amp;postID=492890842362054168' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474673469514747905/posts/default/492890842362054168'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474673469514747905/posts/default/492890842362054168'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zoobie926.blogspot.com/2009/12/late-last-wednesday-evening-john-jones.html' title=''/><author><name>Aleta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00194307509325411933</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474673469514747905.post-9211075712490575752</id><published>2008-11-07T10:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-07T11:41:27.988-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Gratitude</title><content type='html'>I just got back from running three miles this morning.  Today's gift was a beautiful fall morning.  As I stepped out the door the north wind greeted me, chilling me instantly.  While running I watched leaves race across the streets.  Fall is the time of year when mother nature paints with intense colors for a few short weeks, then switches palettes and paints with white.  Fall is when people use food for decorations in different sizes and shapes of orange.  Last fall semester I learned something that continues to haunt me.  Each year 11 million people die of starvation.  That is like the Holocaust happening every year!  You and I are not one of them.  How fortunate we are to live in a land choice above all other lands, a land of plenty.  To have your health, family (such as they are) and cherished friends is the truest wealth.  We take so much for granted.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474673469514747905-9211075712490575752?l=zoobie926.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zoobie926.blogspot.com/feeds/9211075712490575752/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4474673469514747905&amp;postID=9211075712490575752' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474673469514747905/posts/default/9211075712490575752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474673469514747905/posts/default/9211075712490575752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zoobie926.blogspot.com/2008/11/gratitude.html' title='Gratitude'/><author><name>Aleta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00194307509325411933</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474673469514747905.post-8093946096603607786</id><published>2008-09-18T10:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-18T14:08:16.580-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sinister steps</title><content type='html'>On the BYU campus is a sinister set of steps. Let me explain. Because I am not a professor I get to park, along with 30,000 other students, in parking lots located miles from class. The people in admissions are secretly cruel. They make sure there are &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;more&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; than twice as many students enrolled than there are parking spaces. So students battle it out every day in parking lots. The BYU grounds crew is very efficient and constantly clears all traces of blood and guts before the media gets wind of the devastation.&lt;br /&gt;Once I found an unguarded parking space. Delighted, I finally parked my car and started walking to class. I passed the Smith field house heading east. Then I saw them... a formidable run of stairs so long I could not see to the top. Undaunted, I started up the stairs loaded down like a pack mule with over 40 pounds of books, a computer, water, etc. For those who are smart enough to have rolling backpacks, please note that they are not very effective when it comes to stairs.&lt;br /&gt;I consider myself in fairly good shape. However, it wasn't long before my legs and lungs were complaining. I kept going, even when other students quit and opted for the easier underground passage that was mercifully provided just before consciousness was lost. "Give it up!" my body screamed. "No!" my brain retaliated..."You can do this!" "Just take it one step at a time"... When I finally made it to the top things were hazy and I was gasping for air. My legs felt like rubber. But I prevailed!&lt;br /&gt;I meet the steps often, sometimes two or three times a day. I always take it to the top.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474673469514747905-8093946096603607786?l=zoobie926.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zoobie926.blogspot.com/feeds/8093946096603607786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4474673469514747905&amp;postID=8093946096603607786' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474673469514747905/posts/default/8093946096603607786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474673469514747905/posts/default/8093946096603607786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zoobie926.blogspot.com/2008/09/sinister-steps.html' title='Sinister steps'/><author><name>Aleta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00194307509325411933</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474673469514747905.post-1427920501137119883</id><published>2008-09-15T10:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-15T16:30:50.478-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Fall semester recently started and I'm "back in the saddle"at BYU.  Studies are intense.  However, in the evenings, when things settle down...I have a secret passion that takes the edge off things and relives a lot of stress.  I have discovered WOW. To be honest, I've become a WOW freak. I have my own special WOW room complete with a WOW hot line to my mentor, Aidan. We have formed our own guild, "The Untouchables," complete with an official tabard and bank.  When Ashley found out I started playing WOW, she chided me, "I can't believe you're playing that...only nerds play WOW."  &lt;em&gt;I have crossed over to the dork side.&lt;/em&gt;  Power to the Horde!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So...Hey! brb cause i g2g agitate the Alliance O.o btw my main is lvl 48!!! I'm omw to glory and greatness! :p cya!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474673469514747905-1427920501137119883?l=zoobie926.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zoobie926.blogspot.com/feeds/1427920501137119883/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4474673469514747905&amp;postID=1427920501137119883' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474673469514747905/posts/default/1427920501137119883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474673469514747905/posts/default/1427920501137119883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zoobie926.blogspot.com/2008/09/fall-semester-started-recently.html' title=''/><author><name>Aleta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00194307509325411933</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474673469514747905.post-5769448668165447483</id><published>2008-09-12T12:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-12T17:02:31.385-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I lost myself.  It happened slowly and somewhere among the incessant demands of others.  I'm trying to find me but can't because the old me no longer exists.  Someone else has taken her place and I haven't figured out who she is.  My forever boyfriend comments on this renaissance woman as he watches me tackle things I had crossed off life's list. "WOW" he says, "You would have never done that before!"  He's right. The old me wouldn't... but the new me does.  I no longer have fears. It makes all the difference.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474673469514747905-5769448668165447483?l=zoobie926.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zoobie926.blogspot.com/feeds/5769448668165447483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4474673469514747905&amp;postID=5769448668165447483' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474673469514747905/posts/default/5769448668165447483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474673469514747905/posts/default/5769448668165447483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zoobie926.blogspot.com/2008/09/i-lost-myself.html' title=''/><author><name>Aleta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00194307509325411933</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474673469514747905.post-7985607795694917042</id><published>2008-08-24T17:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-24T17:40:16.842-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Summer Fun</title><content type='html'>I went to Victoria, British Columbia the last week in July.  What a beautiful city!  There were Hundreds of flower baskets hanging from old fashioned street lights.  Not a single flower was dead or wilted...amazing!  I Fell in love with that corner of the world.  Erin and I want to move there.  The highlight was whale watching Orcas in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Puget&lt;/span&gt; Sound with Erin and Ashley.  We traveled 86 nautical miles in two hours in a souped up rubber raft.  We were hauling!  The males travel on the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;perimeter&lt;/span&gt; of the pod, the females with young on the inside.  They are incredible animals.  I'd like to study marine biology.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474673469514747905-7985607795694917042?l=zoobie926.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zoobie926.blogspot.com/feeds/7985607795694917042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4474673469514747905&amp;postID=7985607795694917042' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474673469514747905/posts/default/7985607795694917042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474673469514747905/posts/default/7985607795694917042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zoobie926.blogspot.com/2008/08/summer-fun.html' title='Summer Fun'/><author><name>Aleta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00194307509325411933</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474673469514747905.post-6835449753794585252</id><published>2008-04-28T09:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-24T16:50:07.862-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Lessons learned the past two semesters: &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. There's a lot to be said about someone who can survive the academic environment at BYU. I found that BYU's classes are much more difficult and challenging and requires more academic excellence than my previous university did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Snowdrifts are not as innocent as they look.  BYU's ground crew will kindly shovel you out when you're stranded in the Marriot's parking lot. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Never take empty parking spaces for granted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. &lt;strong&gt;"Deal with it." &lt;/strong&gt;(a phrase from one of my professors) means to not fall apart (especially during finals week). I found I can "deal with it" very well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474673469514747905-6835449753794585252?l=zoobie926.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zoobie926.blogspot.com/feeds/6835449753794585252/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4474673469514747905&amp;postID=6835449753794585252' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474673469514747905/posts/default/6835449753794585252'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474673469514747905/posts/default/6835449753794585252'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zoobie926.blogspot.com/2008/04/from-kitchen-to-classroom.html' title=''/><author><name>Aleta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00194307509325411933</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474673469514747905.post-9159668524290065529</id><published>2007-08-27T11:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-24T16:52:50.098-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New Horizons</title><content type='html'>New chapters begin in all our lives. Opportunities for growth and progress are there for the taking. It takes &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;courage&lt;/span&gt; to merge into a world you know nothing about as you face the unknown...your future.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474673469514747905-9159668524290065529?l=zoobie926.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zoobie926.blogspot.com/feeds/9159668524290065529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4474673469514747905&amp;postID=9159668524290065529' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474673469514747905/posts/default/9159668524290065529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474673469514747905/posts/default/9159668524290065529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zoobie926.blogspot.com/2007/08/dream.html' title='New Horizons'/><author><name>Aleta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00194307509325411933</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
