<?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-11233947</id><updated>2011-04-21T21:39:49.291-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Broken Bindings</title><subtitle type='html'>Where I share my attempts to protect my sanity by reading (and re-reading) in the garage</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>43</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-115797451413019794</id><published>2006-09-11T06:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-11T06:35:14.470-05:00</updated><title type='text'>twin towers</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/16575792@N00/43145835/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/26/43145835_60b2f70622_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/16575792@N00/43145835/"&gt;twin towers&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/16575792@N00/"&gt;Broken Bindings&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;p&gt;how can it be five years?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-115797451413019794?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/115797451413019794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=115797451413019794' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/115797451413019794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/115797451413019794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2006/09/twin-towers.html' title='twin towers'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-115366926790549884</id><published>2006-07-23T10:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-23T10:41:25.480-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>check out new 'Zoomr" photo sharing site.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"width:1024p&lt;div style=x;text-align:right;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://beta.zooomr.com/photos/14618@Z01/91408/" title="Zooomr :: Photo Sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.zooomr.com/images/a4b9330583e422be194bdbf13b214b84ab7306d6.jpg" width="1024" height="819" alt="DSCF0455" border="0" style="border:1px solid #000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="float:left;"&gt;DSCF0455&lt;/span&gt; Hosted on &lt;strong&gt;Zooom&lt;span style="color:#9EAE15;"&gt;r&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I am back, difficult times lately, but almost all of us are recovering. Talk more later&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-115366926790549884?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/115366926790549884/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=115366926790549884' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/115366926790549884'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/115366926790549884'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2006/07/check-out-new-zoomr-photo-sharing-site.html' title=''/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-114545064044674776</id><published>2006-04-19T07:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-19T07:44:00.463-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Optically Challenged</title><content type='html'>I really was NOT complaining during my last post, just summarizing only SOME of the crazy/sad/scary things going on around here lately, but the Gods of ' Oh yes it can be worse' didn't understand. First, three weeks ago, I got slammed with a five-day bout of vertigo. Yech. Then, after that cleared, and I dared to think I was health-wise in the clear, I woke up one morning nearly blind in my right eye, and a little askew in my left. It's called optic neuritis, and it is a VERY common MS symptom. Essentialy, the fore-mentioned Gods thought they would spice things up for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again, to any Gods who may be listening, I am NOT complaining. I can walk, talk, and to all intents and purposes, I am otherwise fine. I refused my neuro's suggestion of entering the hospital for three days to be given steroids via IV, and really just needed to take a few weeks on the slow side. I couldn't drive for a while, and I have been wearing polarized lenses to stave off the pain caused by light sensitivity, but all-in-all it has been doable. Don't ask my mom or sis, or the Brit hubby, by the way because they will surely lie and tell you I was a sniveling, cursing, cranky, frightened mess. So not true.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;One thing I did have a problem with however. I could NOT READ. I was like a junkie going throgh withdrawl. You know the saying " You don't know what you've got until it's gone?" Well, yeah. GAH&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, long story short, I am now reading in short bursts, and still styling with the Bono-type shades on all of the time, but you would not believe the bloglines queue I need to catch up on. I have 49 feeds, and most have about 6 or 7 entries remaining for me to read. One of my faves, however, has 26. Really. &lt;br /&gt;Yeah, I'll get there. And I can't wait.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-114545064044674776?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/114545064044674776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=114545064044674776' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/114545064044674776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/114545064044674776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2006/04/optically-challenged.html' title='Optically Challenged'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-114416426860148456</id><published>2006-04-04T09:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-04T10:24:28.620-05:00</updated><title type='text'>the broken stuff</title><content type='html'>Every time I have the temerity to state, aloud or just in my head, "ENOUGH", life just keeps getting rougher. I love my life, my family, and my friends. They collectively are the only things keeping me from losing it completely lately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In October 2003, my life decided to become one great big roller-coaster. On the same day, my Grandfather entered the hospital after collapsing on a cruise ship while away with my parents, and needed a cardiac velve replacement and my dear BritHubby got in a horrible motorcycle accident while riding in North Carolina. I live in New Jersey. Ahem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two days later, my dear,dear Dad and I drove down to Asheville, NC together to collect the hubby and dispose of his beloved bike. A probably very nice lady had decided that she NEEDED to turn left into a parking lot, directly into his pathe. He managed to avoid crossing the double yellow, nailing a tree, or dumping the bike, therefore managed to stay alive, still covered with real skin, and only broke his leg while t-boning her car and cruishing his leg between the bike and her door post. Several pins, rods, and stitches later, he was ready to come home. The warmth and caring shown by the Surgeon, hospital staff, and the group he was on the sponsored ride with will never be forgotten. Neither will the circle of support we received from The Bookworm's teachers and our friends. My parents and my sis took the cake, however. They moved in alternately, helping me cook, clean, change dressings, and distract my kids. I so love them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My     &lt;a href="http://captainstinkypants.blogspot.com"&gt;sis&lt;/a&gt;  was finally pregnant, after trying for several years, and seemed to be doing well. Suddenly, she found herself in the hospital having developed alarming signs of very early labor. The lil guy was due in February, but after many many inconclusive tests and lots of failed attempyts at keeping him in, the munchkin was born on December 16, 2003. He was two pounds, 8 ounces. No kidding.&lt;br /&gt;I kept finding myself thinking thins like, "hey, it could be worse." And it could.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many many other medical disasters occurred frequently since then, all non-life threatening and fixable, for the most part. My kids have had their share, but nearly everyone is on the mend. I kept plugging along, avoiding somehow, massive MS flare-ups from the stress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6 weeks ago, my dear dear brother-in-law found a big lump in his neck. After constant reassuring from docs that he was fine, the biopsy came back positive for malignant melanoma, which means it is already spreading. Just when we heard it seemed not to have spread beyong the one set of lymph nodes and was treateble with interferons, and had started to breathe again, his surgeon called him in again to tell him in essence "whoops, I missed something.:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He has four tumors in his brain. Malignant melanoma mobed from his skin, to his lymph system and then to his brain. In essence he has a 13% chance of surviving 5 years. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is 44. And is one of the most caring, loving fathers to two pre-teen boys I know. And we love him. I can't type anymore. I feel so helpless. I have no idea what to say to him, or what to do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-114416426860148456?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/114416426860148456/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=114416426860148456' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/114416426860148456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/114416426860148456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2006/04/broken-stuff.html' title='the broken stuff'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-114380969981650259</id><published>2006-03-31T07:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-31T07:55:00.863-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Pretty cool logo</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/16575792@N00/120709612/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/40/120709612_93ff8f377d_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/16575792@N00/120709612/"&gt;walk_logo&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/16575792@N00/"&gt;Broken Bindings&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I am also selling 'sneaker'decals, a buck apiece,which will be posted on our "Wall of Fame" with donor's name.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-114380969981650259?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/114380969981650259/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=114380969981650259' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/114380969981650259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/114380969981650259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2006/03/pretty-cool-logo.html' title='Pretty cool logo'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-114374745147473393</id><published>2006-03-30T14:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-30T14:38:29.400-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Join my Team!</title><content type='html'>Many of you know I have Multiple Sclerosis. Again this year, some of my very best buds, my girls, the Hubby and I are rockin' the MSWalk.Click &lt;a href="http://www.nationalmssociety.org/NJM/personal/default.asp?pa=40909125&amp;pd=NJM0EWLK20060423BEL"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt; to visit my team page and sponsor me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;April 23, 2006.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks in Advance! Smooches&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-114374745147473393?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/114374745147473393/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=114374745147473393' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/114374745147473393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/114374745147473393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2006/03/join-my-team.html' title='Join my Team!'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-114364243677011606</id><published>2006-03-29T09:26:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-29T09:39:34.346-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Broke, broken, and heartbroken</title><content type='html'>Honestly, there is just SO.MUCH bad stuff going on around here lately, I hesitate to write about it. I hesitate to even think about most of it. I am fine, well mostly, and my IMMEDIATE family is fine (thankgodknockwood) but so much other stuff is going on my head can't stop spinning.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trying to just breathe lately. Forgive me. Be back soon, if intermittently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the meantime, &lt;a href="http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=4776181634656145640"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; just made me smile, for 5 minutes. it's woth a look y'all. Make sure your volume is up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-114364243677011606?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/114364243677011606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=114364243677011606' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/114364243677011606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/114364243677011606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2006/03/broke-broken-and-heartbroken_29.html' title='Broke, broken, and heartbroken'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-114182129719096175</id><published>2006-03-08T07:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-08T07:43:42.153-05:00</updated><title type='text'>the biggest chuckle from my morning's reading...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/4784482.stm"&gt; A large spherical object appeared in my peripheral vision which on closer inspection proved to be one of Pamela Anderson's breasts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I received a refill of champagne just as Elton clambered on to the stage to belt out "Rocket Man" and afterwards I shook his hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was at about this point that I realised that in all the excitement I had completely forgotten the reason I came: to network and try to get an acting gig in Hollywood.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-114182129719096175?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/114182129719096175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=114182129719096175' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/114182129719096175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/114182129719096175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2006/03/biggest-chuckle-from-my-mornings.html' title='the biggest chuckle from my morning&apos;s reading...'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-114174113798437535</id><published>2006-03-07T09:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-07T09:18:57.986-05:00</updated><title type='text'>WHEW</title><content type='html'>Some how, I tried to edit one LITTLE thing in my template, and screwed EVERYTHING up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wouldn't post any entries, couldn't read or answer comments ( but I read them in email, thanks everyone)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my lil sis suggested I try switching templates to get rid of my eggregious errors, and TA DAH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I seem to be back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks Stinkymom.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-114174113798437535?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/114174113798437535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=114174113798437535' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/114174113798437535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/114174113798437535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2006/03/whew.html' title='WHEW'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-113614031017292255</id><published>2006-01-01T13:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T13:31:50.193-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Lost in translation</title><content type='html'>I am aware that the promised update is not up yet, but I &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;must&lt;/span&gt; exonerate the bookworm immediately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Thursday, my sweet six year old told her aunt a joke she supposedly was told by her sister:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why did the pig follow the chicken across the road?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;answer? HE WANTED SEX&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was furious. How could my angelic seeming Bookworm tell her little sis such a dirty joke? Where did she hear it? I could not WAIT to get her home from Grandma's house to castigate her. HOW DARE SHE right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After much confusion and righteous indignation, I finally got the &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;real&lt;/span&gt; joke out of her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why did the chicken follow the piggyBANK across the road?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the real answer?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He wanted CENTS&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-113614031017292255?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/113614031017292255/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=113614031017292255' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/113614031017292255'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/113614031017292255'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2006/01/lost-in-translation.html' title='Lost in translation'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-113596589381826456</id><published>2005-12-30T13:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-30T13:06:57.213-05:00</updated><title type='text'>At the turning of the year, will my life stop spinning out of control?</title><content type='html'>Crazy, crazy life here. It's all mostly good, but I need to catch up, sum up, update, and such.  Thank you all for the emails and comments checking on me, we are okay. I have been lurking around on your sites too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another update soon. Smooches&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-113596589381826456?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/113596589381826456/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=113596589381826456' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/113596589381826456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/113596589381826456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2005/12/at-turning-of-year-will-my-life-stop.html' title='At the turning of the year, will my life stop spinning out of control?'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-113015785177841416</id><published>2005-10-24T07:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-24T07:53:25.606-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't Stop Me Now</title><content type='html'>Earworm number 347, courtesy of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;QUEEN &lt;/span&gt;and last night's entertainment on TLC.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The show was called "The Boy Whose Skin Fell Off." I had no idea that I was soon to become a blubbering blob of jello on the couch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the show opened, a rather high-pitched voice began introducing the pictures, of a stange-looking boy in a wheelchair. He wore bandages all the way down his arms, covering oddly-shaped stumps at the ends, a constant hat, and a bemused expression on his face. His little voice sounded so sweet. Pre-pubescent even. Then I listened as it was revealed that this sweet little boy was 36 years old, and had been suffering since &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;before birth&lt;/span&gt; with a disease I haven't checked the spelling on yet, called EB, which caused his current terminal skin cancer, and he was planning his own funeral.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This show was more than one of those "look at poor me who suffers while you smug innocents look on" types. He narrated his own death. This man suffered, really really suffered, his entire life, from a genetic skin disorder that kept his skin from ' binding' to his body properly. The first tears came while his mum talked about how difficult emotionally it was to try to cuddle him as a newborn, knowing that EVERY TIME she TOUCHED him, his skin would blister horribly, and painfully. Nearly every day, his body was 75% covered in bandages. Horrendous, constant pain. He was born with NO SKIN covering one of his legs from the knee down, presumably from friction in utero.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Yet, no pity party for Mr Kennedy. All of Alnwick, England, was invited to celebrate life with him. The sense of humor was immense. I laughed mightily as an English Starlet, spokesperson for the UK Charity, DEbRA, started crying whilst talking to him, and after she left to get him his autographed picture, he turned to the camera, grinned mischeviously, made a 'chalk one up for me' sign in the air, and chuckled. He also mentioned, as an aside, that he could see right down her shirt as she had leant down to hug him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The earworm came, and WILL.NOT. LEAVE. His funeral was completely planned out. He chose his coffin carefully, made sure it was carved with tigers on the side, and an image of a can of Heinz57 beans. Why? So people would look at each other at the funeral and wonder "Why the beans?" He figured they would have something to talk about then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Near the end, I began sobbing as the camera closed in on his mum, as she was mouthing the words to his chosen funereal soundtrack: Don't Stop Me Now by Queen. His favorite song. She lip-synched along through her tears. And then I could no longer see the screen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm having such a good time. I'm havin' a ball.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-113015785177841416?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/113015785177841416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=113015785177841416' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/113015785177841416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/113015785177841416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2005/10/dont-stop-me-now.html' title='Don&apos;t Stop Me Now'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-112818325293117495</id><published>2005-10-01T10:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-01T11:18:15.160-05:00</updated><title type='text'>List of banned books - why people, why?</title><content type='html'>&lt;ol type="1"&gt; &lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Scary Stories (Series) by Alvin Schwartz&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Daddy’s Roommate by Michael Willhoite&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt; - read this one&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;The Chocolate War by Robert Cormier&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain - &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;own this one&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck - &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;read in high school&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Harry Potter (Series) by J.K. Rowling- &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;own all of them so far, several copies so Bookworm, hubby and I don't fight over them&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Forever by Judy Blume - &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;read it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson - &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;no, but the bookworm did a project on it last year, fifth grade, an assigned book&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Alice (Series) by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Heather Has Two Mommies by Leslea Newman&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;My Brother Sam is Dead by James Lincoln Collier and Christopher Collier&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger- &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;read it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;The Giver by Lois Lowry&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;It’s Perfectly Normal by Robie Harris&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Goosebumps (Series) by R.L. Stine&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;A Day No Pigs Would Die by Robert Newton Peck&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;The Color Purple by Alice Walker- &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;own it, and the movie, but the book is better&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Sex by Madonna- &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;perused it once at B&amp;N&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Earth’s Children (Series) by Jean M. Auel-&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;own Clan of the Cave Bear, read the others&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;The Great Gilly Hopkins by Katherine Paterson&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;-read it as a kid and re-read it when the bookwork took it out of the library&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Go Ask Alice by Anonymous-&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;read it&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Fallen Angels by Walter Dean Myers&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;In the Night Kitchen by Maurice Sendak&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;The Stupids (Series) by Harry Allard&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;The Witches by Roald Dahl&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;- read it to the bookworm after she saw the movie&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;The New Joy of Gay Sex by Charles Silverstein&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Anastasia Krupnik (Series) by Lois Lowry&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;The Goats by Brock Cole&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Kaffir Boy by Mark Mathabane&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Blubber by Judy Blume- &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;read it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Killing Mr. Griffin by Lois Duncan&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Halloween ABC by Eve Merriam&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;We All Fall Down by Robert Cormier&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Final Exit by Derek Humphry&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood-&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;read it&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Julie of the Wolves by Jean Craighead George-&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;bookworm owns the series&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison-&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;read it&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;What’s Happening to my Body? Book for Girls: A Growing-Up Guide for Parents &amp; Daughters by Lynda Madaras&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee-&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;read it&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Beloved by Toni Morrison-&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;own it&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton-&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;read it in grade school&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;The Pigman by Paul Zindel-&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;also read in grade school&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Bumps in the Night by Harry Allard&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Deenie by Judy Blume&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes-&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;assigned book in high school&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Annie on my Mind by Nancy Garden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;The Boy Who Lost His Face by Louis Sachar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Cross Your Fingers, Spit in Your Hat by Alvin Schwartz&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;A Light in the Attic by Shel Silverstein-&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;own it, and several others as the bookworm loves them&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Brave New World by Aldous Huxley-&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;read it&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Sleeping Beauty Trilogy by A.N. Roquelaure (Anne Rice)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Asking About Sex and Growing Up by Joanna Cole&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Cujo by Stephen King-&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;own it&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;James and the Giant Peach by Roald Dahl-&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;third grade teacher read a chapter a day to us, and we loved it.....I now own it&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;The Anarchist Cookbook by William Powell&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Boys and Sex by Wardell Pomeroy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Ordinary People by Judith Guest-&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;read it&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;What’s Happening to my Body? Book for Boys: A Growing-Up Guide for Parents &amp; Sons by Lynda Madaras&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret by Judy Blume-&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;assigned book in grade school&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Crazy Lady by Jane Conly&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Athletic Shorts by Chris Crutcher&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Fade by Robert Cormier&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Guess What? by Mem Fox&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;The House of Spirits by Isabel Allende- &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;read it, and own this and several ofthers, Allende is a fabulous writer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;The Face on the Milk Carton by Caroline Cooney-&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;bookworm read it&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;-read it&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Lord of the Flies by William Golding-&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;read in jr high, was assigned but we all loved it&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Native Son by Richard Wright&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Women on Top: How Real Life Has Changed Women’s Fantasies by Nancy Friday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Curses, Hexes and Spells by Daniel Cohen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Jack by A.M. Homes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Bless Me, Ultima by Rudolfo A. Anaya&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Where Did I Come From? by Peter Mayle&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Carrie by Stephen King-&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;own it&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Tiger Eyes by Judy Blume&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;On My Honor by Marion Dane Bauer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Arizona Kid by Ron Koertge&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Family Secrets by Norma Klein&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Mommy Laid An Egg by Babette Cole&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;The Dead Zone by Stephen King&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;-own it, love the movie, love the TV series with Anthony Michael Hall even more&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;The Adventures of Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Song of Solomon by Toni Morrison-&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;own it&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Always Running by Luis Rodriguez&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Private Parts by Howard Stern&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Where’s Waldo? by Martin Hanford-&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;huh? banned? COME ON...&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Summer of My German Soldier by Bette Greene&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Little Black Sambo by Helen Bannerman&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Running Loose by Chris Crutcher&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Sex Education by Jenny Davis&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;The Drowning of Stephen Jones by Bette Greene&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Girls and Sex by Wardell Pomeroy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;How to Eat Fried Worms by Thomas Rockwell&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;View from the Cherry Tree by Willo Davis Roberts&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;The Headless Cupid by Zilpha Keatley Snyder&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;The Terrorist by Caroline Cooney&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;Jump Ship to Freedom by James Lincoln Collier and Christopher Collier&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt; &lt;/ol&gt;     &lt;hr /&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I saw this posted over at Doc Ern's place, and could not believe how many GREAT books have been banned. Some of the other titles are familiar but to be honest, I read so much I am not really sure whether I have read some or not, so I left those blank.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who decides to ban some of these wonderful books? Have any of these people ever actually &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;read&lt;/span&gt; the books they want to ban?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kid across the street actually told the bookworm that we must not be ' good christians'  because we like the &lt;/span&gt;Harry Potter&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; series. Oh well, chalk up another parenting failure for that one. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Please, people.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-112818325293117495?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/112818325293117495/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=112818325293117495' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/112818325293117495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/112818325293117495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2005/10/list-of-banned-books-why-people-why.html' title='List of banned books - why people, why?'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-112661360557925449</id><published>2005-09-13T07:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-13T07:13:25.590-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Can't Do It</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I sit here, ruminating on all of the STUFF that has been going on in the Broken houshold the last few months. All summer, either here, or in my in-law's house in Wales, I have found myself thinking 'I should blog this....' quite often. Then, as I sit to write&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't do it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;not without getting completely jammed up thinking about that Hussy Katrina, and the devastation she, and the government, have wreaked on our nation.&lt;br /&gt;Many, many more eloquent bloggers have covered this happening much better than I can.  Please go check out Amanda and Southern Fried girl's sites, and help out at verzenagain.com, or donate to the fund going at ramdonandodd, or buy a shirt designed by Scotty G. At the very least, DONATE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't even think about these last few weeks without becoming a hopeless blubbering mass. I have lost the tiny shred of faith I still had left in my government, but I am overwhelmed by the generosity and caring spirit shown by my fellow citizens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amanda and Scotty B.,  Southern Fried Girl and your family, and all of those hurt and displaced by Katrina, you are  loved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-112661360557925449?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/112661360557925449/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=112661360557925449' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/112661360557925449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/112661360557925449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2005/09/cant-do-it.html' title='Can&apos;t Do It'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-112636444152403019</id><published>2005-09-10T09:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-10T10:33:19.780-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Is this thing on?</title><content type='html'>Hello All of you millions of worshiping readers of Broken Bindings. Guess what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;I GOT A BRANDY-NEW COMPUTER!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;and I really needed one too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old system was truly old. Being the wife of a programmer/system engineer, you may think that I would live in a technophile/crazy gadget house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WRONG!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's almost like the story of the shoemaker and his wife. Our system was a patched-together frankenstein like creation, barely chugging along. When our &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;very very old&lt;/span&gt; previous system no longer suited our needs, we were lucky enough to be given a computer by my mother. She won it in a drawing at her office. Yippee? or not&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It came with ONLY FLOPPY DRIVES. So, of course my dear hubby simply ordered a cd/rom drive from the manufacturer's web site. Okay so far.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was seven years ago. Except for one minor memery card upgrade so the bookworm could play a game sent to her by my in-laws, no further upgrades were undertaken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, Windows 98 sucks, you all know that, but it was working okay for the most part. We have cable ISP, so things ran pretty fast despite our dinosaur-age apparatus. Then the trojans hit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly things were &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;dragging.  &lt;/span&gt;I had no idea what was going on. My hubby realized the problem. In my naivetee, we had no virus/spyware protection. Hence- the next MISERABLE piece of software was installed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The evil N*rton 2003.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ICK ICK ICK ICK ICK ICK.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It did rid us of viruses and trojans. But evidently, while I zipped along using my computer, the system I thought was protecting me was actually LOADING my hard drives with crap. They had an application called clean sweep that was supposed to help get rid of unneccesary files. Didn't work. To make an already long, long story short, we realized this, and decided to upgrade to the 2005 version.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BIG MISTAKE. HUGE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My system crashed. 2003 would tell you it was uninstalled, but it really wasn't. The 2005 would not install properly. After screaming, crying, cursing, gnashing of teeth, etc, I gave up. The N*rton web site WOULD NOT HELP ME, because we had clean sweep installed, and it was no longer supported by the EVIL software company. I had no where to go for help, dammit!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After complaining, whining, flattering, demanding, screaming, and then finally thretening to withhold sexual favors, I this week FINALLY convinced the dear hubby that it was time for a new computer. Whew!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sleek. Black. Pretty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And FAST! YAY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I am back now, if there is anyone still checking here. Good to see you. I have many many entries to make, and will hopefully be updating frequently now that the kiddies are back in school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-112636444152403019?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/112636444152403019/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=112636444152403019' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/112636444152403019'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/112636444152403019'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2005/09/is-this-thing-on.html' title='Is this thing on?'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-111772104994573379</id><published>2005-06-02T08:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-02T09:05:24.033-05:00</updated><title type='text'>wow, quiet</title><content type='html'>Nice, relaxing morning. I don't have anywhere I HAVE to be at in the next couple of hours. What a difference. The Kiddo is sacked out on the floor under her "mennie" (what she calls her blanket, I have no idea why) and I have spent coffee time surfing some of my favorite sites. I solemnly swear that soon, I mean it, soon, I will figure out how to add links on the side, post entries with more than one pic, add links in text (I did it once and can't remeber how) and I will also figure out how to take control of this crazy life. Things will slow down soon, but next week starts the multiple 'end-of-year' extra dance rehearsals, and the Bookworm is graduating elementary school on the 21st. I have parent orientation over at the Middle school tonight, she has two awards/5th grade picnic ceremonies next week, the Kiddo graduates preschool the 15th, my mom's birthday is the 22nd, my mom-in-law's is the ninth, the bookworm's is the 28th, and the recitals (3 of 'em for Bookie) are on the weekend of the 25th.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;breathe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not gonna get hyped up now. Gotta take advantage of these quiet times, right? I will leave you with one of my favorites, I often sing it to my lil ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are days&lt;br /&gt;you'll remember&lt;br /&gt;never before, and never since&lt;br /&gt;I promise&lt;br /&gt;will the whole world be warm as this&lt;br /&gt;And as you feel it, you'll know it's true&lt;br /&gt;That you&lt;br /&gt;are blessed and lucky&lt;br /&gt;it's true&lt;br /&gt;that you&lt;br /&gt;are touched by something that'll grow and bloom&lt;br /&gt;in you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"These Are Days"&lt;br /&gt;Buck/Merchant&lt;br /&gt;10,000 Maniacs-Our Time in Eden&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-111772104994573379?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/111772104994573379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=111772104994573379' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111772104994573379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111772104994573379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2005/06/wow-quiet.html' title='wow, quiet'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-111763653595490509</id><published>2005-06-01T09:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-01T09:44:10.176-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Let me 'splain...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a title="photo sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/16575792@N00/16881480/"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" alt="" src="http://photos12.flickr.com/16881480_911769232a_m.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="MARGIN-TOP: 0px;font-size:0;" &gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/16575792@N00/16881480/"&gt;inigo&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/16575792@N00/"&gt;Broken Bindings&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;No, is too much, let me sum up...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;(sorry, that movie is a favorite)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Schedule of the past month, format 'borrowed' from the lovely ladybug&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;7= times I have watched my nephew&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;10= times I have had to either drive ACROSS TOWN to bring stuff Bookworm forgot at home, or drive HER back to school to pick up forgotten homework&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;5= extra band rehearsals for music teacher's DEMENTED decision to have 5th graders participate in town-wide 'festival of music'&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;1= time I got nearly hopelessly lost following 'map-Iamstupid-quest' directions&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;20= rehearsals scheduled for bookworm and kiddo in this month's dance recital still-to come&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;4= weekends that have been ENTIRELY taken up by family parties&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;6=weeks until I am supposed to schlepp 2 kids and a month's worth of luggage across the ocean to visit my inlaws, the Brit will be staying home for 2 kid-free weeks (so what his boss wants him to work- shut up)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;457= times my head has nearly exploded&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And we still have 3 weeks of school left here.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-111763653595490509?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/111763653595490509/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=111763653595490509' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111763653595490509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111763653595490509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2005/06/let-me-splain.html' title='Let me &apos;splain...'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-111720969060340280</id><published>2005-05-27T10:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-05-27T11:01:30.616-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fifteen years ago today</title><content type='html'>I was going to post a mushy, poetic verse here, along with cute pics, to celebrate our anniversary. Flickr is getting a massage, and the craziness that has become our family schedule is still grinding along.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I do want to take a moment to celebrate that my wonderful, sweet, adorable, and geeky, hubby and I have been married for an unbelievable FIFTEEN years as of today. I was a dumb kid, literally, when we met, and he had no idea how young&lt;em&gt;  &lt;/em&gt;I was (I WAS legally an adult - shut up) and I realize how lucky we are, to not only have made it this far, and this long, but we actually lived through my growing up some more, two kids, several job changes, many moves, motorcycle accidents (for another post) sometimes devastating illness, and not only do we still love each other, we mostly LIKE each other a lot too. My dear Brit is funny, charming, sweet, caring, and I feel so blessed that I was right, at 19, when I chose him. After all, he &lt;em&gt;did&lt;/em&gt; move more than three thousand miles away from his home to meet me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Michael, I love you more than I can say. Thanks for enjoying the ride with me. Here's to a lifetime more. I love you, you geek.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-111720969060340280?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/111720969060340280/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=111720969060340280' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111720969060340280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111720969060340280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2005/05/fifteen-years-ago-today.html' title='Fifteen years ago today'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-111697718034960247</id><published>2005-05-24T18:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-05-24T18:26:20.353-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Two words for you</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;MAPQUEST SUCKS&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;that is all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-111697718034960247?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/111697718034960247/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=111697718034960247' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111697718034960247'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111697718034960247'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2005/05/two-words-for-you.html' title='Two words for you'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-111660287980492565</id><published>2005-05-20T10:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-05-20T10:27:59.816-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What a WEEK I'm having!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/16575792@N00/6348033/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos8.flickr.com/6348033_a02e03cc14_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/16575792@N00/6348033/"&gt;DSCF0302&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/16575792@N00/"&gt;Broken Bindings&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Okay, maybe not quite that bad, but really, these two adorable creatures have been running me RAGGED this week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the upside.......no time to be depressed. heh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The past 10 days or so have been unbelievably busy. Mostly good stuff, our springtime activities heat up every year, with school band/chorus concerts, the annual dance recital coming up, end-of-year girl scout trips, etc. But come on, 10 days with nothing but driving, packing, unpacking, driving some more, screaming, etc?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;puhleeeeeeeese gimme a break.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday, the 13th, Bookworm and I had a sleepover party at our nearby Girl Scout Activity Center. I was NOT looking forward to this, but actually, we had the time of our lives!&lt;br /&gt;The party was called "Freaky Friday" and included several troops from the area, each girl bringing an important older female in her life. I got to be the Bookworm's important lady.&lt;br /&gt;The evening was chock-full of girly activities like manicure time, making friendship bracelets, creating unique outfits out of construction paper, buttons and bows, and then dragging out the sleeping bags and snuggling up to watch "Freaky Friday" on a huge prejection TV.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WE HAD A BLAST!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bookie and I laughed, like we haven't in a loooooooong time, cuddled, crafted, teased, tickled, and hugged, both of us reveling in the mother/daughter alone time. We soooooo needed it. I am amazed at how caring, funny, original, creative, and fun my (gasp) nearly 11-year-old baby has become.It was really, really nice to spend that time with her.&lt;br /&gt;The next day, after tackling the 'rope course' at the camp ground, we made our way home. At 1:00&lt;br /&gt;At 2:00-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kiddo had to be 20 minutes away at a neighbor's birthday party. I dumped luggage, grabbed the Kiddo, and took off. Thankfully, my very sweet hubby had treated Kiddo to a night out at the Golden Arches, and a trip to Target to get the birthday present, otherwise we would have been VERY late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, said British gentleman assembled our Kiddo's brand-new 15 foot trampoline, which was a birthday present for the lil one, we had promised it to her at her December birthday party and finally delivered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, this is getting too wordy, even for me,  heh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be continued.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been reading you all, and missing the interaction. But hey, Spring only comes around once a year, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hugs all&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-111660287980492565?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/111660287980492565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=111660287980492565' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111660287980492565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111660287980492565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2005/05/what-week-im-having.html' title='What a WEEK I&apos;m having!'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-111642731161364960</id><published>2005-05-18T09:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-05-18T09:43:21.620-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Jealousy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a title="photo sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/16575792@N00/14488205/"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" alt="" src="http://photos12.flickr.com/14488205_6a8a3a17f9_m.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="MARGIN-TOP: 0px;font-size:0;" &gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/16575792@N00/14488205/"&gt;_41147755_portman_pa203&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/16575792@N00/"&gt;Broken Bindings&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;How pissed do you think it makes me that this chick can look THIS awesome with NO HAIR!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want my frizz gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Crazy, crazy weekend, still running around like a psycho, gotta run now and pick up my nephew and then kiddo, will update later. promise&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-111642731161364960?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/111642731161364960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=111642731161364960' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111642731161364960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111642731161364960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2005/05/jealousy.html' title='Jealousy'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-111582269300035362</id><published>2005-05-11T09:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-05-11T09:44:53.050-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Great sisters come in sets of three</title><content type='html'>I have three sisters. Actualy, two of them are my stepsisters, but since our parents have been married now for 25 years, the step part no longer counts.&lt;br /&gt;We all gathered Sunday at Sissy's house. She is six weeks younger than me, and constantly reminds me of that fact, by the way. All of the hubbies decided to throw a cookout for the wives, and let Sissy's hubby be in charge of the purchasing. Big mistake.&lt;br /&gt;With children, our party was a grand total of 17. Present was my family, 4 of us, all 3 sisters, their hubbies, and my niece and 3 nephews, and my Dad's ex-wife and her 'friend'. My kids call my step-sisters' mom "Grandma Dee" and just consider her another part of our very big family. (My mom is one of 6 kids, my dad is one of 5).&lt;br /&gt;We played lots of volleyball, had many shots and mudslides, fabulous salads, hamburgers, hot dogs and grilled pork loin. I was impressed with my bro-in-law's preparations. Until.&lt;br /&gt;Until we were packing up to leave, and my bro-in-law started asking for the guys' shares of the cost. He wanted a hundred bucks &lt;em&gt;apiece&lt;/em&gt; from each of the hubbies. I handed the Brit the cash, as he NEVER carries enough, but started scratching my head, wondering how he spent over five hundred dollars. We found out.&lt;br /&gt;My mom, as usual watching out for her baby chickies, asked how he could have spent that much. The answer?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He forget to take out and cook the &lt;strong&gt;three huge london broil steaks&lt;/strong&gt;, had purchased 4 cases of beer, 6 cases of soda, 6 different packs of buns, 12 bags of chips that never got opened, 3 'box' wines that are still in his garage, and a box of one &lt;strong&gt;thousand&lt;/strong&gt; plates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We paid up and left, but my sister now has to host ALL of our summer parties, and maybe Thankgiving, Chrismas, and New Year's Eve too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope all of you mothers out there had a great Mother's day. I have tried to post since Monday, but blogger ate my homework.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-111582269300035362?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/111582269300035362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=111582269300035362' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111582269300035362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111582269300035362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2005/05/great-sisters-come-in-sets-of-three.html' title='Great sisters come in sets of three'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-111523129391937357</id><published>2005-05-04T13:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-05-04T13:28:13.956-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Future cosmetologist, doncha know</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/16575792@N00/6348028/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos8.flickr.com/6348028_b0e7f65f6a_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/16575792@N00/6348028/"&gt;DSCF0316&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/16575792@N00/"&gt;Broken Bindings&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-111523129391937357?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/111523129391937357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=111523129391937357' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111523129391937357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111523129391937357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2005/05/future-cosmetologist-doncha-know.html' title='Future cosmetologist, doncha know'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-111523113239173749</id><published>2005-05-04T13:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-05-04T13:25:32.460-05:00</updated><title type='text'>heh heh, if she only knew how funny she is...</title><content type='html'>While casually paging through my &lt;em&gt;least favorite catalog&lt;/em&gt; just now, Kiddo and I had the following exchange.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Kiddo: &lt;/strong&gt;Mommy, all I want is Samantha, Kit, Samanthat's tea party, and ....loook look see dis?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mean Mommy:&lt;/strong&gt; Uh-huh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Kiddo: &lt;/strong&gt;'member Kit and Samantha mommy? like Bookworm's best friend has? I want dem. And the tea party. Oh yeah, and the doggie, and there is this 'udder' 'Mercan Girl dolly that comes with the horsie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mean Mommy:&lt;/strong&gt; Oh, really?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Kiddo:&lt;/strong&gt; Yup. That's it. Is it enough, Mommy?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-111523113239173749?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/111523113239173749/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=111523113239173749' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111523113239173749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111523113239173749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2005/05/heh-heh-if-she-only-knew-how-funny-she.html' title='heh heh, if she only knew how funny she is...'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-111522029788328676</id><published>2005-05-04T10:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-05-04T10:24:57.946-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes they seem like 'bestest friends'</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/16575792@N00/12329140/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos7.flickr.com/12329140_b12f3ba499_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/16575792@N00/12329140/"&gt;Sometimes they seem like 'bestest friends&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/16575792@N00/"&gt;Broken Bindings&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;p&gt;and at other times....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well, sisters will be sisters, ya know?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-111522029788328676?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/111522029788328676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=111522029788328676' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111522029788328676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111522029788328676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2005/05/sometimes-they-seem-like-bestest.html' title='Sometimes they seem like &apos;bestest friends&apos;'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-111514772132103515</id><published>2005-05-03T14:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-05-03T14:15:59.833-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Things that make you go "hmmmmmm"</title><content type='html'>First, I want to thank you all for the lovely posts and email responses to my return. I feel a little bit like Sally Field.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tend to isolate when the depression hits. I got very lucky this time. I am blessed with a really teriffic hubby, but he was just letting me get on with things and not mentioning anything about how down I was, or how messy the house was getting. Not one damn thing. I think he was just hoping I would 'snap out of it' without him having to confront me. The guy is great, but he &lt;strong&gt;IS BRITISH &lt;/strong&gt;after all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was my mom, again, who helped me realize my situation. She called one day, chatted for a minute or two, and then said "Are you really okay? You have not called me in a while."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mother and I are very close. We normally talk at least once a day, even if only briefly. She was right. I had stopped calling, and wasn't even checking my email. I am so grateful she got concerned and had the guts to confront me about it. She does that sort of thing all of the time. The woman is literally my hero, the gutsiest lady I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Sunday, she will not be getting any sappy Mother's day cards from me. She will be getting the best "Thank You" card I can find. Over the years, since adolescence, my mother has stuck up for me when doctors told her I was fine, not sick, or a hypochondriac, or on drugs, the list goes on. Somehow she knew that something else was going on, and kept digging until we got to the bottom of it. She has helped me pull myself out of the bleakness of depression several times, even when I wanted to hate her for it, and never EVER gives up on me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MS causes incredible fatigue sometimes, and I think the fatigue and depression many many MS patients experience are definitely connected. Luckily for me, I was slipping into another depressive period, but hopefully my mother helped me recognize it soon enough to turn things around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I only wish I knew why I isolate myself. I have missed the blog world so much. I just didn't realize it until now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again, thank you all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-111514772132103515?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/111514772132103515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=111514772132103515' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111514772132103515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111514772132103515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2005/05/things-that-make-you-go-hmmmmmm.html' title='Things that make you go &quot;hmmmmmm&quot;'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-111504774061289751</id><published>2005-05-02T10:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-05-02T10:29:00.613-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tailspin</title><content type='html'>What causes them anyway?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been battling an outrageous, scary, quick-striking bout of the blues of late. I think I see the end of the tunnel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have missed you all, I don't even know why I stopped writing. I got rid of my computer cooties a while ago, but I was stuck in depression no-man's-land.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does the MS cause depression bouts, or am I just crazy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That, my friends, is the million dollar question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been reading a lot of your blogs. Thanks for writing. You guys make me smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now off to go email around to get the word out that I am actually back in the world, see if any of you all actually want to come back!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-111504774061289751?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/111504774061289751/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=111504774061289751' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111504774061289751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111504774061289751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2005/05/tailspin.html' title='Tailspin'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-111193739267499642</id><published>2005-03-27T10:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-27T10:29:52.676-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello all...</title><content type='html'>My computer is broken. We got invaded by a nasty worm, Norton Syst works picked it up, but not before it  corrupted some of our windows files.&lt;br /&gt;I am actually writing this from my father's house, we cannot even get our computer to boot properly anymore. A very good friend of ours is going to look at it tomorrow, he actually works for the local cable company, as an internet tech, so cross your fingers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope to see all of you soon! I am going throught major blog withdrawl&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-111193739267499642?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/111193739267499642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=111193739267499642' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111193739267499642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111193739267499642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2005/03/hello-all.html' title='Hello all...'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-111116334102305435</id><published>2005-03-18T11:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-18T11:29:01.026-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Cookie Mom, cookie mon, who needs you?</title><content type='html'>I am not the troop leader. Also, I am not the cookie mom, though you never could tell by watching, even closely.&lt;br /&gt;The first three years, my good friend Kelly and I shared 'cookie mom' duties. We had a blast. We collected the girls' forms, sat in one of our kitchens, drank tons of coffee, ate coffee cake, and figured out boxes sold, cases, multiplied by three, laughed, gossipped and griped.&lt;br /&gt;Last year, Kelly's daughter dropped out of the troop, so I was to do it alone. No biggie, right. OH NO, here comes Caroline, Mrs. "6 thousand dollah hahdwood flawers' herself. Oh GOD if I have to listen to the story of the g-dmn  6 THOUSAND DOLLAH HAHDWOOD FLAWERS one.more.time. I will kill myself.&lt;br /&gt;This woman is so freakin' clueless. She wants to help. She wants to be 'THE cookie mom.'&lt;br /&gt;okay, no more responsibility for me, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WRONG!!!!  (yes that is 4 exclamation points- OF FRANCE!!!!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I, of course, have to hold her hand. I have to CALL HER AND REMIND HER OF EVERY STEP SHE MUST TAKE. ARRRRRGGGGGHHHHH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two years in a row now I have done this. This year, I have actually done EVERYTHING myself, because I cannot let Sally, my fantastic troop leader, have to do this too. She did not show up at the booth sale. She did not call any of the moms to get their money. This morning, and the money is due today or the kids don't get their extra 10 cent-per-box bonus, I had to CALL HER and tell her 'GIMME THE PAPER WORK YOU LOSER' and count all of the money (that I collected) fill out the deposit slip (that I collected) and now I am off to the bank to make the deposit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I told Sally to FIRE HER ASS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;grrrrrrrrrr&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;okay, I didn't actually call her a loser, I just wanted to sooooooo strongly.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-111116334102305435?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/111116334102305435/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=111116334102305435' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111116334102305435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111116334102305435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2005/03/cookie-mom-cookie-mon-who-needs-you.html' title='Cookie Mom, cookie mon, who needs you?'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-111106911694301139</id><published>2005-03-17T09:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-17T09:21:17.373-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Pretty Pretty Please?</title><content type='html'>okay, I just tried to plead with Blogger, please stop losing my posts into the ethernet, please let me comment on my LOVELY FRIENDS SITES', and it keeps auto-posting ONLY THE TITLES.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh Blogger, dear blogger, I am sorry I got bitchy with you. Could I pretty pretty please have regular access for posting and commenting? Please?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If not, maybe I could just read the comments on my own blog? please?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-111106911694301139?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/111106911694301139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=111106911694301139' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111106911694301139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111106911694301139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2005/03/pretty-pretty-please.html' title='Pretty Pretty Please?'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-111103292809070886</id><published>2005-03-16T23:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-16T23:15:28.090-05:00</updated><title type='text'>WELCOME TO BLOGGRRRRRRRR</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-111103292809070886?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/111103292809070886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=111103292809070886' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111103292809070886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111103292809070886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2005/03/welcome-to-bloggrrrrrrrr.html' title='WELCOME TO BLOGGRRRRRRRR'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-111091582154783479</id><published>2005-03-15T14:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-15T14:43:57.986-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mommy Rage, interrupted</title><content type='html'>Don't you just hate it when you spend and entire weekend preparing a thoughtful, intelligent yet strongly-worded SMACK DOWN against your child's teacher for a &lt;strong&gt;very big mistake&lt;/strong&gt; he/or she made on Friday, only to have the very crafty mo-fo completely cut you off at the knees and take the wind out of your sails?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Sorry for the multiple metaphors, and pleased be advised that thankfully there has been no lasting or overwhelming damage done to the Bookworm)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Friday afternoon, Bookworm's usually lovely teacher SCREWED.UP.ROYALLY. She allowed the class to play in the forbidden zone of the schoolyard during recess because they had done such a great job at their 'Mock Trial' presentation the night before. (another post coming on that evening soon..) This particular area is currently forbidden because of the remaining snow and ice piles scattered here and there. Safety issue, y'know. The kids were bored with the 'safe area', so she let 'em loose. First thing she did was warm them NOT to run, jump or act idiotically on or near the ice patches. Most of them complied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Bookworm, of course, did not. The jungle gym entrance was mostly blocked by a smallish ice pile. ALL of the other kids who played there stepped carefully around it on the way back in. MY daughter decided it would be much more fun to leap over it. Of course, she caught the very back of her foot on the ice, and went flying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She landed HARD on her butt and then fell back onto her back, giving herself quite a jarring fall. I can't say I blame the teacher for being angry with her, but still...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bookworm complained to her when they got in that her &lt;strong&gt;chest&lt;/strong&gt; was hurting. The teacher told her "too bad, your own fault, you should have listened. Do you really want me to get into trouble and the other kids to miss out on future recess because you ran on the ice?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OH MY GOD. That was at ONE O'CLOCK. Bookworm sat at her desk and suffered in silence, because she was embarassed, until 2:30. Did I get a phone call? &lt;strong&gt;NO. &lt;/strong&gt;At 2:30 she asked to go to the nurse again, her chest really hurt. The teacher, realizing that maybe she really &lt;em&gt;was hurt&lt;/em&gt;, was now stuck. Bus time was in 5 minutes. She gave my kid the choice of going to the nurse and missing the bus, or coming home to tell me when she got here. The bookworm, of course, came home. Again, NO PHONE CALL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DUH!? WTF?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Bookworm is okay, x-rays are clear. She landed on her tailbone, smacked down on the bottom of her ribcage in the back, which put too much strain on her ribcage. Luckily she did not break any ribs, she did, however, pull sympathetic muscles and &lt;em&gt;possibly&lt;/em&gt; separated cartilage around her sternum. All is mostly okay, she is just in pain. We now have chiro appts 3x a week for a while, and we need to buckle her shoulder belt in the car - she can't do it herself. I am thankful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BUT PISSED. I sent in a note, explaining that I needed the teacher to call me. I was soooooooo ready to really rip her a new orifice or two. My mamma bear self-righteous rage had been building all weekend. The phone rang...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Teacher : Hi Mrs Bookworm's Mom.&lt;br /&gt;Me: About Bookworm's accident on Friday...&lt;br /&gt;Teacher : First, let me say, I AM SO SORRY. I made a bad judgement call on not sending her to the nurse. I was angry, you know how impulsive she can be, and in anger I used poor judgement. I honestly kept thinking about this all weekend. I apologized to Bookworm this morning. I NEVER should have made her feel responsible for the class, and I truly did not realize there was a true injury. I thought she was being a little dramatic, but I made a mistake and I am sorry.&lt;br /&gt;ME: Uh, but, (pause) okay, I hope this never happens again.&lt;br /&gt;Teacher: Absolutely, Bookworm is not a chronic complainer, I should've known better, and if she sneezes twice in class again I will send her to the nurse no matter what.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Um, okay. I would however have appreciated a phone call about the incident as well, without having to write you a note (still hoping for even a &lt;em&gt;little&lt;/em&gt; rage-venting)&lt;br /&gt;Teacher: You sent me a note? Bookworm didn't give it to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SO MY RAGE ESCAPE VALVE WAS BLOCKED! GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-111091582154783479?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/111091582154783479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=111091582154783479' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111091582154783479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111091582154783479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2005/03/mommy-rage-interrupted.html' title='Mommy Rage, interrupted'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-111072790341001724</id><published>2005-03-13T10:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-13T10:31:43.413-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Okay, back to non-disgusting topics</title><content type='html'>Heh, I guess I don't have Dooce's flair for entertaining poop posts. Oh well. We are right now taking things one day (or one hour) at a time with Kiddo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got a little bit of a break from her yesterday. I am a helper with the Bookworm's Girl Scout troop, and yesterday was the dreaded 'booth sale'. As Girl Scouts USA now discourages door-to-door selling, we now need to order CASES of cookies extra for the troop, and set up a table at local businesses, such as grocery stores, Wal-mart, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is through the troop, however, that I became aware that I am not nearly so tolerant with &lt;em&gt;other people's&lt;/em&gt; children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of these girls in particular, has a death wish. These girls have been together since kindergarten, and are now in 5th grade. This one devil child &lt;strong&gt;does not&lt;/strong&gt; grow on you. What wasn't even cute in kindergarten is now unbelievably annoying in a fifth-grader. She is rude, obnoxious, selfish and mean. the rest of the troop can't stand her either. GRRRR&gt; They moved out of otwn, to the next town over, and I really thought she would leave the troop. Our sainted leader, my very dear friend, took pity on her mom and said sure, she can stay in the troop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ick&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good thing I'm not the leader, huh? I'd have said SUCK IT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The girls raked it in in four hours at ShopRite. nearly 500 dollars! Incredible.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-111072790341001724?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/111072790341001724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=111072790341001724' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111072790341001724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111072790341001724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2005/03/okay-back-to-non-disgusting-topics.html' title='Okay, back to non-disgusting topics'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-111060440506252694</id><published>2005-03-12T00:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-12T00:13:25.063-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Bookworm and Kiddo in Wales</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/16575792@N00/6347982/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos6.flickr.com/6347982_87bc5ef8a6_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/16575792@N00/6347982/"&gt;DSCF0015&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/16575792@N00/"&gt;Broken Bindings&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I FIGURED IT OUT! GOODBYE HELLO AND PICASA2    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YAY FLICKR&lt;br /&gt;1&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-111060440506252694?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/111060440506252694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=111060440506252694' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111060440506252694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111060440506252694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2005/03/bookworm-and-kiddo-in-wales.html' title='The Bookworm and Kiddo in Wales'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-111055411893308972</id><published>2005-03-11T09:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-11T10:19:13.526-05:00</updated><title type='text'>CAUTION! a post about control, and POOP coming up!</title><content type='html'>I have GREAT kids. They are beautiful girls, smart, funny, and really cute. Mostly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately, we have run into some problems with &lt;em&gt;control&lt;/em&gt; with Kiddo. She has always been a little stubborn. I look back now and realize how easy the Bookworm was to deal with at this age. Over the past few months, the Kiddo's behavior has become quite a problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I say she throws tantrums when she doesn't get her way, I don't mean little squalls that blow over if you wait long enough. I mean &lt;strong&gt;SCRU-HEEEEMING&lt;/strong&gt; battles, over literally everything. She yells, throws toys, (not at anyone, just at the floor), refuses to do what we want, and sobs so hard sometimes I think she is going to throw up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kiddo is not a toddler going through the 'terrible two's.' She is five years old, very articulate, and very strong willed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To some extent, she always has been. Friends and family always say to me "but she's so cute!" She is, just spend a day with her and sometimes the cuteness wears off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could use some advice. These past few weeks, she has kicked her behavior and control problems up a notch or two. My beautiful little girl has begun to lie. Blatantly. She has suddenly decided that she no longer wants to eat &lt;em&gt;whatever it is&lt;/em&gt; we are having for dinner. She will sit at the table for a very long time, crying and yelling that she &lt;strong&gt;doesn't want it&lt;/strong&gt;, although I know she likes the food, and she is hungry. Last week, she fed her meat to the dog THREE DINNERS IN A ROW, while our backs were turned. We knew what she had done, but she bald-faced lied about it, claiming that she ate the food. Yes, she was punished, and we had long fights about that, but I do not want to have to sit with her at the table for hours after dinner is over every night. We have adjusted our responses to her, and she now knows she cannot get away with this, and we're taking it one step at a time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next big problem is one that I know is common with toddlers. She is not a toddler. She is suddenly trying to retain her 'poop'. For days.To the point where she cannot hold it well, and has stomach aches, gas, and skid marks in her panties, but continues to lie to us, saying she doesn't need to go. Over the past 6 weeks, I have had to resort to suppositories twice, and I refused to do it this week. I don't want to have her &lt;em&gt;need&lt;/em&gt; it in order to be able to go. Apart from her dinner-time issues, she has a very varied diet. She loves oatmeal, fresh fruit and veggies, including raw celery for crying out loud, but she will hold the movements in until she is blue in the face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am now at a loss. I spoke to her preschool teacher again today, trying to find out if something has happened at school to set this off. Nothing has changed a home, no issues that may have started this. I think she is really trying to be in charge. I just don't know what to do now. We are punishing her for lies, and for the messes in her pants when we are sure she was actually trying to hold it in. What next?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does anyone have any ideas?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S.  She did actually let go and get it out this week, by the way. Several large movements over the past two days, after holding it in for nearly a week. How do I stop it from happening again?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-111055411893308972?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/111055411893308972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=111055411893308972' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111055411893308972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111055411893308972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2005/03/caution-post-about-control-and-poop.html' title='CAUTION! a post about control, and POOP coming up!'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-111040098325615464</id><published>2005-03-09T15:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-09T15:46:47.550-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Bloggers and inhumanities</title><content type='html'>Wow. What a war zone the web log world has become lately. I am new to this posting thing, but I have been an avid reader, and commenter, on some very excellent websites.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my favorites is the website of Heather B. Armstrong. In her renown as a blogger fired for her website, she has been called on to give opinions and interviews to many news agencies about the dangers of blogging too close to home, (or work, as the case may be). Yesterday, she posted a spiteful, horrible, illiterate and misogynistic email she received. She and some of her friends had gotten together to respond to the jerk's accusations and ignorance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was quite funny, really. Heather's typical sense of humor shone through, even through her righteous indignation at being attacked by said reader. Yes, she posted the email address the sender used. That is her right. And it is not our to judge her for that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The comments last night got downright ugly. I had expected nastiness directed toward the email sender, and even some stupid troll-posts directed at Heather, but I &lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;did not expect&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; some of her regular commenters' attacks on one another. It got so nasty that it kind of freaked me out. Name calling, shaming, and hating. It was a little scary people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do people think that they are not going to hurt anyone when they type such things? In my past life as a dispatcher, we were trained about a phenomena called 'the disembodied voice'. This is where callers to 911 or any other emergency-type service don't always get it at first that they are actually talking to a &lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;person&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; on the other end of the phone. They don't always treat you like a human being. Sometimes you are just a voice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As of this writing, that website has not had a new post. Also, comments have been turned off. I hope the voice doesn't get turned off too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-111040098325615464?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/111040098325615464/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=111040098325615464' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111040098325615464'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111040098325615464'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2005/03/bloggers-and-inhumanities.html' title='Bloggers and inhumanities'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-111022237952019228</id><published>2005-03-07T14:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-07T19:39:58.110-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Kristine, as if I needed another reminder to be thankful...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://randomandodd.blogspot.com"&gt;Kristine&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; made me cry today. She is a gifted writer, and an awesome mother. If you get the chance, read her post today titled " I Know."&lt;br /&gt;After I dried my face, I cuddled Kiddo up for a little extra time, and we headed out to get some shopping done at Costco.&lt;br /&gt;Kiddo was pretty good. As a rule, she does not walk in Costco. She gets a choice between the front seat or the cavernous back area of the cart. The carts are so big, and people are not careful enough with them, in my opinion, especially around the free samples. She continues to ask to be let out, but she really knows that the answer will not be the one she is hoping for.&lt;br /&gt;She didn't whine too much, or plead incessantly for whatever toy/book/movie caught her eye. It was really amazing. Could be why when she asked again at the checkouts, I gave in.&lt;br /&gt;We finished up and headed out into the blinding sunshine, enjoying the great spring-like temperatures. Glorious weather, really.&lt;br /&gt;She , incredibly, continued listening as we entered the parking lot. She needed only gentle reminders to stay close to me, and to keep herself between the cart and the parked cars. I was really impressed. And then...&lt;br /&gt;The glare was pretty intense. I guess it blotted out a person's ability to see brake lights and/or &lt;strong&gt;backup lights.&lt;/strong&gt; Just as we ambled behind a &lt;em&gt;giant&lt;/em&gt; SUV, the driver started backing up.&lt;br /&gt;All intelligent thought left me brain instantly. My &lt;strong&gt;child&lt;/strong&gt; was &lt;em&gt;between&lt;/em&gt; me and the reversing SUV. All I could seem to do was shove the cart forward, reach for her and scream " WAIT WAIT WAIT" over and over. Why "WAIT ", I dunno.&lt;br /&gt;The lady driving slammed on the brakes as I screamed. Poor Kiddo had no idea what was happening. One second she was walking along, the next her face was smashed into my belly, and she lost one of her 'clog' sneakers behind her. Neither one of us was hit. Thank God.&lt;br /&gt;The poor lady jumped out of her truck to check on us. We were &lt;em&gt;both&lt;/em&gt; shaking, and lucky for her she was apologizing over and over, and making sure we were alright. I am sure she missed us in the sun, and it was truly accidental, but had she given me the littlest bit of attitude, I would have pummelled her. But she was very very nice.&lt;br /&gt;I calmed Kiddo down, put her shoe back on, and then we made it &lt;strong&gt;safe and sound&lt;/strong&gt; to the car. I stopped her before she got into her booster to give her an extra hug and kiss, and to tell her how proud of her I was for listening so well. As I put the Costco booty into my trunk, I whipered prayers of thanks over and over.&lt;br /&gt;Thank You again God. I know the lady wasn't going very fast yet, and Kiddo would probably not have been run over, but I wouldn't have liked to find out.&lt;br /&gt;Kristine, here is another mom who will be taking those cuddle opportunities for granted a lot less.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-111022237952019228?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/111022237952019228/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=111022237952019228' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111022237952019228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111022237952019228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2005/03/kristine-as-if-i-needed-another.html' title='Kristine, as if I needed another reminder to be thankful...'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-111004560052493275</id><published>2005-03-05T12:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-05T15:51:02.466-05:00</updated><title type='text'>About Us</title><content type='html'>This will be a long one, sorry.&lt;br /&gt;Amazing how theraputic it has been writing in this blog already, only the second day.&lt;br /&gt;First, my girls protested about their names. Henceforth, I decree, at their insitence, that lil one shall now be known as "Kiddo" and eldest will be known as "Bookworm."&lt;br /&gt;A former creative writing major at Douglass College, Rutgers, I decided to take a year off from college. As I then needed benefits, I took a "for a while" job as a police/fire/EMS dispatcher with Edison Twp. I had been a volunteer EMT with the first aid squad for several years, and they were in need so it seemed like a good move. I did not count on a very cute English guy moving in to the apartment downstairs, nor did I count on falling head over heels in love with him. Hence, my 'year off of college job' became my career.&lt;br /&gt;We married in 1990. I was only 19 (what was I THINKING!) at the time, but I got lucky in my choice of a husband. He is a doll, and luckily as I continued to grow up, we grew up &lt;em&gt;together&lt;/em&gt;, rather than apart.&lt;br /&gt;The bookworm came along in 1994, and I stayed at my job because Edison has KICKASS benefits, so good that my hubby doesn't even take his from his job. We moved eventually to Howell, to be closer to his job (IT Specialist and Systems Engineer, he makes the &lt;em&gt;real&lt;/em&gt; bucks in the family) and upon 'christening' our new home, I got pregnant with Kiddo. Literally on the night we moved in - must've been.&lt;br /&gt;As we settled into our new neighborhood, with two kids and a commuting mom, I thought my schedule must be wearing me down, I was sooooo tired all of the time. Then I lost the sight in my right eye.&lt;br /&gt;Turns out, I wasn't just tired. On Valentine's Day, 2002, I was diagnosed with Relapsing-Remitting Multiple Sclerosis.&lt;br /&gt;My day-to-day life changed COMPLETELY. Please, DO NOT PITY me. I have a wonderful life, a wonderful family, kickin' friends, and my life is really good. The disease may have changed some things, but I am fine, and life is all about rolling with the changes and adapting. Making the most out of things. I share this here only because I may have MS, but it doesn't have me! I am very pro-active, badgering doctors and researchers, organizing my daughter's girl scout troop to raise money and provide refreshments at the annual MS Walk, and many other events. I have now become a Resource Specialist volunteer at my local MS Society, and take client calls and dish out sympathy, empathy and advice twice a week. It ROCKS!&lt;br /&gt;Luckily, when I began having fatigue and balance problems, I was able to take disability retirement from my job, complete with a &lt;em&gt;teeny-tiny&lt;/em&gt; pension and , yes thank GOD, benefits for life. I jumped at it, and became a stay-at-home-mom, or as Dooce calls it, a Sh-t Ass Mo-fo - censored in case my bookworm finds her way here!&lt;br /&gt;I love my life, mostly, but never appreciated how tough it is raising two very active and smart girls. Whooo they are tough. The bookworm is SCARY smart, in the accelerated program at school, and she can think circles around us. Kiddo is very smart too, but in a sneaky, little liar kinda way. heh heh.&lt;br /&gt;The name for this blog came about because the other day I realized that we all read so much, and share our favorites, like Tolkien and the Harry Potter series or Stephen King, so much so that most of the books we have are beginning to fall apart. They mostly all have &lt;em&gt;broken bindings.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Welcome!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-111004560052493275?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/111004560052493275/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=111004560052493275' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111004560052493275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111004560052493275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2005/03/about-us.html' title='About Us'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-111003647129366414</id><published>2005-03-05T10:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-05T10:27:51.293-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ahhhhhh</title><content type='html'>Amazing what a great night of sleep will do for one's outlook isn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I write this, the hubby is making my girls' favorite breakfast, 'thin pancakes', lil one is &lt;em&gt;actually setting the table&lt;/em&gt;, and kiddo is playing playstation, all while the coffee is perking away. In a few hours, my very grateful sister, who also happens to be a cosmetologist, will be here to cut our hair, and then kiddo will be off to play at a friend's house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then it will be quiet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;only the sound of the rinse cycle might intrude on my restful Saturday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahhhhhhhhh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for all of the welcoming thoughts guys!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-111003647129366414?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/111003647129366414/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=111003647129366414' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111003647129366414'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/111003647129366414'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2005/03/ahhhhhh.html' title='Ahhhhhh'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-110999337762539401</id><published>2005-03-04T22:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-04T22:29:37.626-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Whew</title><content type='html'>Kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Running me absolutely ragged.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lil one is just 5, so she is still in preschool, next town over. Next year, I won't have to drag her &lt;em&gt;into&lt;/em&gt; the car, and drag her &lt;em&gt;out&lt;/em&gt; of the car, and up the preschool steps, and into her class, with her HANGING ON TO THE BACK OF MY COAT hiding from her teacher and her friends every day. The bus will come right to the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;whoopee. Funny what little it takes to make me happy nowadays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fridays are rough in this family. After the alarm goes off it is non -stop motion. Get the big one (kiddo) out of bed, get the lil one out from hers, start coffee, get kiddo out of bed again, start breakfast, let the dog out, get kiddo up again, etc. After the bus gets kiddo, it's the rush-hour traffic race to preschool, where we are invariably late and get the evil eyebrow look from the assistant director. I swear if she tells me class starts at 9 am ONE.MORE.TIME. I will throttle her. After I peel lil one off of my leg and make my escape from her class, I have a WHOLE HOUR to myself, minus commute time. Of course, since I discovered this whole blog world that I really didn't know about, I do nothing but suck down coffee and read.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, breathe, time to hit the road again. After dragging lil one &lt;em&gt;out&lt;/em&gt; of her classroom, because by now she has remembered that she likes school and will protest that she doesn't want to go home yet, we now get to race to the chiropractor's office, where my sis has just gotten a part-time job, and pick up my ADORABLE 1 yr old nephew to baby-sit. When we finally get home, lil one will want SOMETHING, ANYTHING, in order to get my attention, while I try to keep a one year old boy happy. breathe&lt;br /&gt;Oh, then Kiddo gets home and the real fun begins. She is very much like me, a constant reader, and I will continue whispering at her to get her dance stuff, get her dance stuff, get her dance stuff (because the nephew should be napping by now) as she ignores me and continues reading. By four, she must be ready for her ride to dance, and she never is. Grrrrrrr. breathe&lt;br /&gt;After she leaves, I have oh, maybe a half-hour to get lil one and the baby ready to go BACK to the doc's office, so my sis doesn't have to drag her butt all the way to &lt;em&gt;my&lt;/em&gt; house to get her son.&lt;br /&gt;I am a very good sister&lt;br /&gt;By the time we get home, my darling husband will be nearly home, and though he doesn't expect June Cleaver, he will be wanting to at least see some sort of preparation for dinner going on. HAH. I am lucky to get lunch some days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just read this over, and I cannot believe I actually managed to get this page started today. I really don't feel as pissy as this post sounds, by the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will attempt to figure out why picasa2 is seizing up on me tomorrow, after about 14 hours of sleep, and maybe actually post pics.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-110999337762539401?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/110999337762539401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=110999337762539401' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/110999337762539401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/110999337762539401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2005/03/whew.html' title='Whew'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-110996743750141215</id><published>2005-03-04T15:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-04T15:17:17.500-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/173/3911/640/_40628713_ap_penguin300.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/173/3911/320/_40628713_ap_penguin300.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;chilly&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://www.hello.com/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbh.gif' alt='Posted by Hello' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-110996743750141215?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/110996743750141215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=110996743750141215' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/110996743750141215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/110996743750141215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2005/03/chilly.html' title=''/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-110996502989931577</id><published>2005-03-04T14:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-04T14:37:09.900-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Confession time</title><content type='html'>Since Colleen shamed me into starting this blog, I will need some more time to get things posted. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-110996502989931577?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/110996502989931577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=110996502989931577' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/110996502989931577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/110996502989931577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2005/03/confession-time.html' title='Confession time'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11233947.post-110995490877817099</id><published>2005-03-04T11:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-04T11:48:28.780-05:00</updated><title type='text'>ARE YOU HAPPY NOW COLLEEN?!?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11233947-110995490877817099?l=brokenbindings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/feeds/110995490877817099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11233947&amp;postID=110995490877817099' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/110995490877817099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11233947/posts/default/110995490877817099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brokenbindings.blogspot.com/2005/03/are-you-happy-now-colleen.html' title='ARE YOU HAPPY NOW COLLEEN?!?'/><author><name>Broken Bindings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos4.flickr.com/6347981_3953912cfe_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
