<?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'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485589</id><updated>2009-10-17T21:21:02.035-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Kelliloo's Place</title><subtitle type='html'>A 44 year old stay at home mom's ramblings.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17968762612181348460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>110</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485589.post-7884079005179767675</id><published>2007-11-15T16:44:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-15T16:52:06.620-06:00</updated><title type='text'>More fun with fundraising!</title><content type='html'>Oh my lord! It's the PTA job that doesn't die! The fundraising orders were delivered yesterday, on five pallets. That wouldn't fit through the doors at the school. So they were delivered to the dock next to the cafeteria kitchen. My lucky volunteers and I had to unpack all of them, load them on handcarts and wheel them through the cafeteria and out into the hall. Thankfully the principal got a large flatbed cart and helped us out. Things went much more quickly after that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got the dry goods orders delivered to the classrooms but all the cookie dough orders had to be picked up in the main hall as the kids were leaving school. Yeah, not so much with the picking up. Over half of the orders didn't get picked up so we had to start calling parents and leaving messages. By the time I left, there were still about 10 boxes that I had to put in the cafeteria freezer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, this morning, the phone calls started because people got the wrong thing. And they can't be bothered to read the packing slip which gives the toll free customer service number to call with problems! Thankfully the lovely ladies in the school office took down the number and started giving it to people when they called the school. I owe J, B, and A big time!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The one good thing? I had exactly one order out of hundreds that had bounced checks. And the mom paid cash yesterday when she picked up the cookie dough so that's all resolved. Yay!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if I have the strength to do this again next year. Although, it is the best we've ever done dollarwise. I know that's all because of me. ;-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485589-7884079005179767675?l=kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/7884079005179767675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/7884079005179767675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com/2007_11_01_archive.html#7884079005179767675' title='More fun with fundraising!'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17968762612181348460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17505364455602608085'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485589.post-4720506729091235768</id><published>2007-10-25T20:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-25T20:57:13.845-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fundraising is not fun!</title><content type='html'>Somehow I let myself be talked into the position of chairing the Fall Fundraiser for the Girl's school. And chairing in this case means doing most of it myself. Maybe I would have been better off doing the school newsletter every month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Fall Fundraiser kicked off Oct 3, ended Oct 18, and I finally turned in the orders today. Now I just have to wait for the delivery on Nov 14. Oh, and worry if any checks are going to bounce. And then track down those people. Like I had to track down the parents of the kids who turned in orders with money missing. So not fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, we did sell a lot! The Girl is going to get "the sizzlers, the pufferball, the FM scan radio, and the party pack". So she's over the moon. And I'm ready for a stiff drink.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485589-4720506729091235768?l=kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/4720506729091235768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/4720506729091235768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com/2007_10_01_archive.html#4720506729091235768' title='Fundraising is not fun!'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17968762612181348460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17505364455602608085'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485589.post-242548961602533380</id><published>2007-08-27T20:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-27T20:56:50.527-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Back to school</title><content type='html'>Was there ever a lovelier phrase to grace a mom's ears? I think not! Really, I love the Girl and spending time with her, but trying to work this summer with her in the house was hard. Because the state moved the start of school to Aug 27 for everyone, school started almost three weeks later this year. Summer was really, really long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now, she's back in school as a big first grader and raring to go. She's already informed me that she knows the way to her classroom so I can just drop her off in the morning. I guess I should be thrilled that she's so independent. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now, the obligatory first day of school pictures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lW3zYodh7Qw/RtN8JIoo45I/AAAAAAAAAAc/LDrHO0FnGmY/s1600-h/First+grader!.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lW3zYodh7Qw/RtN8JIoo45I/AAAAAAAAAAc/LDrHO0FnGmY/s320/First+grader!.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5103559299119506322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lW3zYodh7Qw/RtN8JYoo46I/AAAAAAAAAAk/bfE641PMXEY/s1600-h/Shiny+shoes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lW3zYodh7Qw/RtN8JYoo46I/AAAAAAAAAAk/bfE641PMXEY/s320/Shiny+shoes.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5103559303414473634" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I bet you wish your shoes were this shiny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lW3zYodh7Qw/RtN8Jooo47I/AAAAAAAAAAs/VF59HVsegU0/s1600-h/First+day+of+school.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lW3zYodh7Qw/RtN8Jooo47I/AAAAAAAAAAs/VF59HVsegU0/s320/First+day+of+school.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5103559307709440946" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lW3zYodh7Qw/RtN8J4oo48I/AAAAAAAAAA0/ZfH3JIU0e2w/s1600-h/Ready+to+work.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lW3zYodh7Qw/RtN8J4oo48I/AAAAAAAAAA0/ZfH3JIU0e2w/s320/Ready+to+work.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5103559312004408258" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Let's get to work!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485589-242548961602533380?l=kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/242548961602533380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/242548961602533380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com/2007_08_01_archive.html#242548961602533380' title='Back to school'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17968762612181348460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17505364455602608085'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_lW3zYodh7Qw/RtN8JIoo45I/AAAAAAAAAAc/LDrHO0FnGmY/s72-c/First+grader!.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485589.post-6528544165718303299</id><published>2007-08-03T22:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-03T22:06:15.608-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Lord's name in pain!</title><content type='html'>Yesterday, the Girl and I were out running errands. As I was pulling out of a parking lot, a woman in an SUV was driving in holding an infant in her lap. I'm a bit of a carseat freak so I yelled out "Oh My God! That woman is driving holding a baby!" The Girl is also a carseat freak but she didn't key in on the woman holding the baby. No, she yelled at me: "Mom! You aren't supposed to speak the Lord's name in pain!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After I stopped laughing and wiped the tears from my eyes, I told her it was in vain, not pain. Then I had to try and explain what taking the Lord's name in vain means. I think she understood. But for now, I'm not taking the Lord's name in vain or pain.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485589-6528544165718303299?l=kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/6528544165718303299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/6528544165718303299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com/2007_08_01_archive.html#6528544165718303299' title='The Lord&apos;s name in pain!'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17968762612181348460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17505364455602608085'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485589.post-7423482397678385171</id><published>2007-07-17T20:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-17T20:56:15.540-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Six year olds are sweet and funny</title><content type='html'>The Girl really is a sweetie, even when she's driving me crazy. At random moments throughout the day she'll say (or holler if she's in another room), Mommy, I love you. It's enough to make you melt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She can also make me laugh. She was reading a book to me called The Fat Cat Sat On The Mat. Gripping, I tell you. Anyway, at one point in the book, the cat says to these other animals, Do you think I'm stupid? She didn't recognize the word so she spelled it out so I could tell her what it was. I told her that word is stupid. She said, well, I can't say that word! And I had to tell her it's okay to say it if it's in a story. She said, I just don't know if I could ever read that aloud at school. It was all I could do not laugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, yesterday, sweet and funny at the same time. We took my 88 year old grandmother to the dentist. She was switching from her dentist to ours and the Girl was excited that Granny would get to see her dentist. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we drive 45 minutes to pick up Granny and then drive over to the dentist (yes, I drive this far to the dentist, he's wonderful and I've been going to him for about 20 years). They call Granny back and the Girl and I stay in the waiting room. She looks at me and says, aren't we going back with Granny? I told her no, the rooms are small, no room for two extra people. She said, well I want to go back with Granny. Again, I told her no. She looks at me, getting a little a teary, and says, I want to be with Granny. I didn't come all this way just to sit in the waiting room!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was really good and just bit my lip.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485589-7423482397678385171?l=kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/7423482397678385171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/7423482397678385171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com/2007_07_01_archive.html#7423482397678385171' title='Six year olds are sweet and funny'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17968762612181348460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17505364455602608085'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485589.post-4411461563386633890</id><published>2007-06-16T14:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-16T14:34:20.621-05:00</updated><title type='text'>One Lost Tooth, Two Lost Teeth</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Yes, I know it's been forever. Sue me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, to the subject at hand. The Girl is 6 1/2 and has been dying to lose teeth. She's insisted for months that she had loose teeth and would try to wiggle them. The two bottom teeth finally started to loosen up in late April but they have taken their time coming out. And the new teeth were coming in behind so she looked like a shark.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But when those teeth decided to come out, they didn't wait around. The first one came out Tuesday evening while we were eating at ChickFilA. The Tooth Fairy visited that night and left two Sacajawea dollars. Thursday night, we were having dinner at my inlaws' house with some old friends of theirs. I don't know what it is about dinner, but she lost the second tooth. This time the Tooth Fairy left one Sacajawea dollar. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm not sure which teeth will be next, although, those new teeth are pretty big so the lower incisors might have to come next.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;It's a little hard to see where the teeth came out because of the new teeth behind them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lW3zYodh7Qw/RnQ62RkElJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/66WSvyvhYdc/s1600-h/1st+lost+tooth.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5076747384055436434" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lW3zYodh7Qw/RnQ62RkElJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/66WSvyvhYdc/s320/1st+lost+tooth.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lW3zYodh7Qw/RnQ62hkElKI/AAAAAAAAAAU/cS8jy4lAqXQ/s1600-h/2nd+lost+tooth.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5076747388350403746" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lW3zYodh7Qw/RnQ62hkElKI/AAAAAAAAAAU/cS8jy4lAqXQ/s320/2nd+lost+tooth.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485589-4411461563386633890?l=kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/4411461563386633890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/4411461563386633890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com/2007_06_01_archive.html#4411461563386633890' title='One Lost Tooth, Two Lost Teeth'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17968762612181348460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17505364455602608085'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_lW3zYodh7Qw/RnQ62RkElJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/66WSvyvhYdc/s72-c/1st+lost+tooth.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485589.post-116631269339730889</id><published>2006-12-16T17:38:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-12-16T17:44:53.406-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes they surprise you</title><content type='html'>I always wonder if I'm doing a good job as a mother with the Girl. I think most parents feel the same way. You wonder if you're instilling good values and a sense of caring in them. You hope they're not too materialistic, especially when they keep adding to their list to Santa. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was one of the days where I got to see what a caring daughter the Aggie and I are raising.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning the Girl and I met my mom and stepfather at the downtown Neiman Marcus store to see Santa. After that, she had a birthday party to attend. On our way to the birthday party, we saw a homeless man on a street corner holding a sign. She asked if he was homeless and I said yes. Then she wanted to know what his sign said, so I told her: Homeless. Need a Bible, food, and clothes. God bless you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Girl said, that just breaks my heart. Then she got quiet. After about five minutes she said, I said a prayer for that man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was all I could do not to cry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485589-116631269339730889?l=kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/116631269339730889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/116631269339730889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com/2006_12_01_archive.html#116631269339730889' title='Sometimes they surprise you'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17968762612181348460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17505364455602608085'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485589.post-116119286019202622</id><published>2006-10-18T12:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-18T12:34:20.220-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Girl is in big kid school!</title><content type='html'>I'm the mom of a kindergartner. In some ways it's easier because she's in school from 8-3 five days a week. It certainly makes the part time job easier. However, she's in school at 8! That means we have to get up at 6:30. The Girl and I, not so much morning people. Thankfully I don't work in an office so I don't have to have my makeup on and hair done before dropping her off at school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Girl is loving kindergarten. I'm so happy about that. She's made lots of friends, which has its ups and downs. The Girl is very friendly and nice so she makes friends easily. Some of her friends have had a little trouble with that. At least one friend, E,  has been in tears because The Girl was talking more to S than to B. It's a drama.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, they're two months late but here are some first day of school pics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/1600/%231.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/320/%231.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;New outfit, check. New sneakers, check. Huge new Tinkerbell backpack, check.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/1600/%232.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/320/%232.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Headed to Mrs. S's room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/1600/%233.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/320/%233.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Enough pictures. Weren't you leaving, Mom?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485589-116119286019202622?l=kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/116119286019202622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/116119286019202622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com/2006_10_01_archive.html#116119286019202622' title='The Girl is in big kid school!'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17968762612181348460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17505364455602608085'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485589.post-116119219066593560</id><published>2006-10-18T12:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-18T12:23:10.683-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Bad, bad, sucky blogger!</title><content type='html'>Yes, it's been over four months since I blogged. I'm very, very bad. In my defense, I have a job now! I'm working as an administrative assistant. The cool thing is I get to work from home. And I've done gone on two business trips since I started in June. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of them was a regional sales meeting in Breckenridge, CO. Yeah, if you have to go on a trip, that's not a bad choice of places. Unless your luggage doesn't make it from Dallas to Denver with you. It finally got to the hotel at 11 p.m. However, since the big boss gave everyone at the meeting a new Ipod Nano so he could do podcasts, the good outweighed the bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next week, I'm going to Connecticut again for another training class. I'm excited because I have never been in New England in the fall. Yes, I'm a geek and will be taking my camera. Our headquarters there has a beautifully wooded campus and there better be some good foliage. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, to sum up, bad, bad blogger, yet with an excuse.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485589-116119219066593560?l=kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/116119219066593560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/116119219066593560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com/2006_10_01_archive.html#116119219066593560' title='Bad, bad, sucky blogger!'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17968762612181348460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17505364455602608085'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485589.post-114902842718151085</id><published>2006-05-30T17:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-30T17:33:47.196-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Pre-K graduate</title><content type='html'>I know it's silly but yes, the Girl's preschool had a graduation for the Pre-Kindergarten class. I remember having a graduation from kindergarten but that was way back when kindergarten wasn't part of the public schools.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Girl's teacher, Mrs. B, got quite emotional over this class graduating. Of course, we parents knew that we had the special kids. So now, my little baby girl is going to be a big kindergartener. Somebody hold me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Graduate&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/1600/The%20graduate.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/320/The%20graduate.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Girl and Mrs. B&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/1600/Lilli%20&amp;%20Mrs%20B.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/320/Lilli%20%26%20Mrs%20B.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485589-114902842718151085?l=kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/114902842718151085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/114902842718151085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com/2006_05_01_archive.html#114902842718151085' title='Pre-K graduate'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17968762612181348460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17505364455602608085'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485589.post-114901048782771951</id><published>2006-05-30T12:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-30T12:34:47.846-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A good man</title><content type='html'>My grandad passed away earlier this month. He was in the end stages of Alzheimer's so it was the best thing for him. But that doesn't make it any easier for the rest of us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grandad wasn't the type to brag so I learned some things about him after his death that surprised me. I knew he was smart. He could fix anything electronic. Because of that, when he joined the Coast Guard during WWII, they sent him, a Texas farm boy who hadn't graduated from high school, to MIT for electronics training. He ended up serving on a secret radio base in the Aleutians and working for the OSS during that time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not only was he smart, he was creative. He and Granny got tired of waking up to an alarm clock every day, so he wired the clock to a radio and presto, the first clock radio. Too bad he didn't patent the idea. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He had loved his time as a radio operator and set up a ham radio in his workshop. He used to let my brother and I listen as he talked to people all across the country and the world. We were fascinated and loved to spend time with Grandad in his "room". About the only thing we enjoyed more was going to the "milk store", really it was just the grocery store, to pick up milk because it meant we could talk him into buying us a toy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My grandad wasn't rich or famous, but he loved his family and we loved him. He was a good man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/1600/Kelley%20%26%20Grandad.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/320/Kelley%20%26%20Grandad.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485589-114901048782771951?l=kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/114901048782771951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/114901048782771951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com/2006_05_01_archive.html#114901048782771951' title='A good man'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17968762612181348460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17505364455602608085'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485589.post-114584468834941771</id><published>2006-04-23T20:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-23T21:11:28.796-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Distract with pictures</title><content type='html'>Yes, I've been very, very bad about blogging lately. So, to try and get back in the swing of things, I'm sharing some pictures from Easter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/1600/Easter%201.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/320/Easter%201.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;center&gt; The Easter Girl &lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/1600/Easter%204.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/320/Easter%204.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;center&gt; Meme (my mom), Great-Granny (her mom) and the Girl&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/1600/Easter%203.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/320/Easter%203.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;center&gt; The Girl and Pop (my step-dad)&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/1600/Easter%202.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/320/Easter%202.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;center&gt; Easter Aggie, Girl, and me&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/1600/Easter%205.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/320/Easter%205.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;center&gt; The Girl and cousin Jack&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485589-114584468834941771?l=kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/114584468834941771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/114584468834941771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com/2006_04_01_archive.html#114584468834941771' title='Distract with pictures'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17968762612181348460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17505364455602608085'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485589.post-114064966762266018</id><published>2006-02-22T17:06:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-22T17:07:47.633-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Sweet nothings</title><content type='html'>This showed up in my inbox this morning. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Just sitting here for a minute before a meetings starts and my mind&lt;br /&gt;wandered to you!  I love you!  I am so lucky to have you in my life.  Have&lt;br /&gt;a great day!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's a great guy, isn't he?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485589-114064966762266018?l=kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/114064966762266018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/114064966762266018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com/2006_02_01_archive.html#114064966762266018' title='Sweet nothings'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17968762612181348460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17505364455602608085'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485589.post-114047937257346823</id><published>2006-02-20T17:41:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-20T17:49:32.586-06:00</updated><title type='text'>And now for something really uncomfortable!</title><content type='html'>As a woman over a certain age (yeah, that would be 40), I get to experience the pain that is the mammogram. I'm sure you've heard the joke about slamming your breast in the fridge door to approximate the pain. I think that would actually hurt more. Really, to me, the actual boob squishing is not so bad. It's the corner of the top plate digging into the flesh above my boob that &lt;strong&gt;hurts&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully, if you're lucky, this is only required once a year. My first year, I had to go back for another set! Now that was not fun. But, I figure it's much better to endure pain for a few minutes than the alternative.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, do your self exam each month and, if you're over a certain age, go get squished once a year. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This has been a Kelliloo Public Service Announcement.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485589-114047937257346823?l=kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/114047937257346823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/114047937257346823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com/2006_02_01_archive.html#114047937257346823' title='And now for something really uncomfortable!'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17968762612181348460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17505364455602608085'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485589.post-113864007237285413</id><published>2006-01-30T10:49:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-30T10:54:32.386-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Remember the Good Times</title><content type='html'>"Remember the good times, they're smaller in number and easier to recall.&lt;br /&gt; Don't spend too much time on the bad times. &lt;br /&gt; They're staggering in number and will be heavy as lead on your mind."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Willie Nelson knew what he was talking about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Birthday, Dad. I miss you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485589-113864007237285413?l=kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/113864007237285413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/113864007237285413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com/2006_01_01_archive.html#113864007237285413' title='Remember the Good Times'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17968762612181348460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17505364455602608085'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485589.post-113849073283391521</id><published>2006-01-28T16:55:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-28T17:25:32.893-06:00</updated><title type='text'>As long as she needs meme</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://hgspot.blogspot.com/"&gt;HG&lt;/a&gt; tagged me. Actually, I asked to be tagged. I always get tagged at the end of meme rounds so I never have anyone to tag.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, here's my meme.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four jobs I've had in my life:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Copier Service Technician&lt;br /&gt;2. Customer Care Representative&lt;br /&gt;3. Accounts Payable &amp; Receivable clerk&lt;br /&gt;4. Ice cream store clerk&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four movies I can watch over and over:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Mister Roberts&lt;br /&gt;2. Rear Window&lt;br /&gt;3. Seven Brides for Seven Brothers&lt;br /&gt;4. Notting Hill&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four places I have lived:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Dallas, TX&lt;br /&gt;2. Houston, TX&lt;br /&gt;3. Miami, FL&lt;br /&gt;4. Shreveport, LA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four tv shows I love to watch:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Lost&lt;br /&gt;2. Grey's Anatomy&lt;br /&gt;3. West Wing&lt;br /&gt;4. Battlestar Galactica&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four places I have been on vacation:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Breckenridge, CO&lt;br /&gt;2. Destin, FL&lt;br /&gt;3. San Francisco, CA&lt;br /&gt;4. The Bahamas, St Maarten &amp; St Thomas on a cruise&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four of my favorite dishes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. crab rangoons/wontons&lt;br /&gt;2. Cheesecake Factory's Jamaican Black Pepper Shrimp&lt;br /&gt;3. My friend Heidi's spaghetti sauce&lt;br /&gt;4. Chili, specifically my family's chili recipe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four websites I visit daily:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. &lt;a href="http://www.delphiforums.com/"&gt;Delphi&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. &lt;a href="https://www.google.com/accounts/ServiceLogin?&lt;br /&gt;service=mail&amp;passive=true&amp;rm=false&amp;continue=http%3A%2F%2Fmail.google.com%2Fmail%2F%3Fui%3Dhtml%26zy%3Dl&amp;ltmpl=wsad&amp;ltmplcache=2"&gt;Gmail&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. &lt;a href="http://www.rudecactus.com/"&gt;Rude Cactus&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Google&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four places I would rather be right now:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. On vacation&lt;br /&gt;2. With friends&lt;br /&gt;3. London&lt;br /&gt;4. Having dinner out with the Aggie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four bloggers I'm tagging:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. &lt;a href="http://www.rudecactus.com/"&gt;Chris&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. &lt;a href="http://www.sothefishsaid.com/index.php"&gt;Beth&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. &lt;a href="http://www.hicktowndiva.blogspot.com/"&gt;Lauren&lt;/a&gt; (I'll help you with linking.)&lt;br /&gt;4. &lt;a href="http://www.chemmom.blogspot.com/"&gt;Chem Mom&lt;/a&gt; Because my name is not Kelliloo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485589-113849073283391521?l=kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/113849073283391521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/113849073283391521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com/2006_01_01_archive.html#113849073283391521' title='As long as she needs meme'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17968762612181348460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17505364455602608085'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485589.post-113831098097602693</id><published>2006-01-26T15:19:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-26T15:29:40.990-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Stupid home ownership</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I really miss my apartment dwelling days. No, I don't miss loud neighbors or not having my car parked in a garage. I miss being able to call maintenance when I had a problem. Toilet not working? Call the office. A/C on the fritz? Call the office. You get the picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, there's home ownership. You buy a home. You get to paint the walls, knock out walls, plant pretty flowers, do what you want to the house. Everything's fine and fun until someone gets their eye poked out. Wait, that's running with a stick. Until an appliance breaks down. Yeah, that's it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The summer I was pregnant with the Girl, the A/C went out while we were still under our home warranty. Summer. In Dallas, TX. Pregnant woman. A/C out. For five days. The only good thing was that it was under the warranty so we weren't paying for the $350 board that went out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two summers ago, the breaker that the A/C is on kept popping. We ended up having it replaced plus had the compressor replaced. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We need new siding on the small part of the house that isn't brick. We need windows to replace the 29 year old original windows. It's always something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This time the something was the water heater. I pulled into the garage last week after picking up the Girl from school and noticed water coming from the hot water heater closet. All I have to say is thank goodness it's in the garage and not the house! I guess I should be grateful it lasted 10 years. But not only did we have to get a new water heater, the piping for the temp/pressure relief valve had to be brought up to code. Yay! More money for us to spend! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Knock on wood this is our house problem for the year.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485589-113831098097602693?l=kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/113831098097602693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/113831098097602693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com/2006_01_01_archive.html#113831098097602693' title='Stupid home ownership'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17968762612181348460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17505364455602608085'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485589.post-113692812373041844</id><published>2006-01-10T15:18:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-10T15:22:03.743-06:00</updated><title type='text'>De-lurking week</title><content type='html'>Only a day late, but hey, it's a week so I can start when I want. And, I need some comments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, thanks to &lt;a href="http://papernapkin.typepad.com/"&gt;Sheryl&lt;/a&gt; for the week and graphic!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/1600/dlurk4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/320/dlurk4.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485589-113692812373041844?l=kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/113692812373041844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/113692812373041844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com/2006_01_01_archive.html#113692812373041844' title='De-lurking week'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17968762612181348460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17505364455602608085'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485589.post-113684604506060625</id><published>2006-01-09T16:23:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-09T16:34:05.070-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Shut my mouth</title><content type='html'>I've really got to watch what I say when I'm driving and the Girl's in the car. I did overcome the usage of profane language (that sounds nicer than cussing, doesn't it?) when she was little. She heard me say shit one time and kept saying oh shit, oh shit. After that I started concentrating on what I was saying in the car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, you'd think I'd be fine now that my language is nicer, right? Not at all! The Girl still picks up on phrases I use in the car. I realized this today when I was taking her to school. We were about to turn into the parking lot and another mom made a really wide, fast turn out and came rather close to us. From the back seat I hear: She was &lt;strong&gt;not&lt;/strong&gt; watching! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I could put headphones on her when I'm driving.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485589-113684604506060625?l=kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/113684604506060625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/113684604506060625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com/2006_01_01_archive.html#113684604506060625' title='Shut my mouth'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17968762612181348460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17505364455602608085'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485589.post-113484780602176061</id><published>2005-12-17T13:22:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-17T13:30:06.033-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Open the floodgates</title><content type='html'>It's Christmas time which was one of my dad's favorite times of the year. I miss the things we used to do together like watching Holiday Inn on Christmas Eve, decorating the tree, or putting out the lemon oreos. What, you don't know what lemon oreos are? That's what you get when you say luminarias and your aunt thinks you're saying lemon oreos. She wanted to know why we were putting them in the yard. Yeah, my dad gave his little sis grief about that for years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So where am I going with this anyway? Well, I was working around the house and listening to the 24/7 Christmas station when that damn Christmas Shoes song came on. Yes, it's a sweet song but it is damn depressing! I burst into tears while putting clean sheets on the bed. I finally stopped crying, dried my tears, then walked outside where the Aggie and the Girl are putting lights on our second tree. I started telling him about the song and burst into tears again. This is my 11th Christmas without my dad and normally I'm fine but then something out of the blue will just hit me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'll be switching the station quickly from now on when that song comes on. Or maybe I'll just stick to cds.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485589-113484780602176061?l=kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/113484780602176061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/113484780602176061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com/2005_12_01_archive.html#113484780602176061' title='Open the floodgates'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17968762612181348460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17505364455602608085'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485589.post-113441732441318721</id><published>2005-12-12T13:44:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-12T13:55:24.426-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Toys for Tots</title><content type='html'>Every Christmas the Marines collect toys and money to buy toys for children who would otherwise have a very bleak Christmas. My father-in-law is a retired Marine and he spends a weekend standing on a street corner collecting. He is joined by Marine Reserves, Marine ROTCs and Marine Junior ROTCs. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This last Friday I took the Girl over to see her Papa at the toy drive. She helped pick out a toy at the store to donate. After we dropped it in the box, Papa took her on a tour of their set-up. They had warming tents to get out of the cold wind, a humvee, and a giant, inflatable Marine. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Girl then asked to help collect money. Papa gave her a bucket and they went to the corner. She waved at all the cars, smiled, and held out her bucket for money. She was a big hit. There were people stopping while the light was green to give her money. In about 15 minutes she had collected over $20. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went back Saturday too with another toy and she just had to collect money again. My mother-in-law went along so she could get pictures of the Girl and Papa working together. You can see them here. Oh, and if you're wondering why Papa is in a red jacket, that's what the Marine Corps League (the retired guys) wears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/1600/TfT1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/320/TfT1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/1600/TfT3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/320/TfT3.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/1600/TfT2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/320/TfT2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485589-113441732441318721?l=kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/113441732441318721'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/113441732441318721'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com/2005_12_01_archive.html#113441732441318721' title='Toys for Tots'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17968762612181348460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17505364455602608085'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485589.post-113419113566154321</id><published>2005-12-09T22:56:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-09T23:05:35.670-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Adventures in eating</title><content type='html'>As with most five year olds, the Girl can tend to be a little picky when it comes to eating. However, her pickiness can be a little, shall we say, peculiar. For instance, she doesn't like pizza. She used to, all her friends do, but no, she won't eat it anymore. She won't eat hamburgers, but will eat chicken, pork, steak, fish. She loves many fresh vegetables but doesn't like them cooked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes the Girl doesn't tend to be a risk taker when she's eating. She doesn't want to try new things. The Aggie and I use the standard, you must take X bites before you can say you don't like it. So, imagine my surprise when we went out to our favorite little Italian restaurant the other night and the Girl devoured two strips of calamari. I'm not sure she would have tried it if it had been the calamari you see at most restaurants. But Carlos, the owner, fixes the calamari in about finger sized strips and they're delicious. I'm sure the Girl thought it was going to be chicken. But she continued eating even after discovering it wasn't chicken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe there's hope for pizza yet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485589-113419113566154321?l=kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/113419113566154321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/113419113566154321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com/2005_12_01_archive.html#113419113566154321' title='Adventures in eating'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17968762612181348460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17505364455602608085'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485589.post-113209490614152580</id><published>2005-11-15T16:27:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-11-15T16:48:26.166-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A full hand</title><content type='html'>The Girl informed me today that she is now a full hand. Yes, she's five today and quite proud of it. Her birthday blessing and snack at school were postponed til tomorrow due to a field trip today. But what could be better than a field trip on your birthday?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Birthday, sweet Girl!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/1600/BabyLilli-A.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/320/BabyLilli-A.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485589-113209490614152580?l=kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/113209490614152580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/113209490614152580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com/2005_11_01_archive.html#113209490614152580' title='A full hand'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17968762612181348460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17505364455602608085'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485589.post-113106236028789123</id><published>2005-11-03T17:45:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-11-03T17:59:20.326-06:00</updated><title type='text'>No Peter Pan</title><content type='html'>But we did have Tinker Bell and her friends, Wendy and Captain Hook. The Girl had a blast being Tinker Bell all weekend. She went to a carnival Friday night in costume, then a birthday party and Halloween party on Saturday in costume. Then the neighborhood picnic and trick or treating on Halloween. She had a lot of fun trick or treating but her feet did get tired in the Tink shoes.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/1600/Tink1_a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/320/Tink1_a.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/1600/The%20crew_a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/320/The%20crew_a.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/1600/Tired%20Tink_a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/320/Tired%20Tink_a.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485589-113106236028789123?l=kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/113106236028789123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/113106236028789123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com/2005_11_01_archive.html#113106236028789123' title='No Peter Pan'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17968762612181348460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17505364455602608085'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485589.post-113051740458254055</id><published>2005-10-28T11:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-28T11:36:44.593-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Improvisation</title><content type='html'>The Girl has a very vivid imagination.  One minute she's a cat, the next she's a fairy. You never know if you're talking to the Girl or a princess cat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it's not just in play that she uses this imagination. She loves to help the Aggie with things around the house and comes up with her own unique way of doing it. When he vacuums, she gets out her old bubble popper and follows him around "vacuuming". Last Saturday, the Aggie was mowing and she decided she needed to mow. So the "vacuum cleaner" suddenly became a "lawn mower". She was quite proud of the job she and Daddy did on the backyard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/1600/mowing1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/320/mowing1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/1600/mowing2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4695/351/320/mowing2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6485589-113051740458254055?l=kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/113051740458254055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6485589/posts/default/113051740458254055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelleynotkelliloo.blogspot.com/2005_10_01_archive.html#113051740458254055' title='Improvisation'/><author><name>Kelley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17968762612181348460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17505364455602608085'/></author></entry></feed>