<?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-77441772066403447</id><updated>2012-02-16T15:46:44.957-07:00</updated><category term='new job'/><category term='testimony'/><category term='getting older'/><category term='thankful'/><category term='memorial'/><category term='guilt'/><category term='Carson'/><category term='thanksgiving'/><category term='Nebraska'/><category term='christmas'/><category term='antidepressants'/><category term='boyfriends'/><category term='happy'/><category term='2007'/><category term='first'/><category term='cleaning up'/><category term='service'/><category term='absence'/><category term='rest'/><category term='Edustructures'/><category term='rested'/><category term='parents'/><category term='gifts'/><category term='job'/><category term='memories'/><category term='Christ'/><category term='clean up'/><category term='church'/><category term='Halloween'/><category term='sitting'/><category term='family'/><category term='husband'/><category term='posts'/><category term='anger'/><category term='mom'/><category term='frustration'/><category term='Velo'/><category term='begining the blog'/><category term='grandma'/><category term='health'/><category term='grandpa'/><category term='good day'/><category term='first kiss'/><category term='weight'/><category term='christmas party'/><category term='putting things back'/><category term='friends'/><title type='text'>Turning the Hearts</title><subtitle type='html'>Stories, Lessons, Events among other things I want my children and posterity to know.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Queen of Hearts</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>24</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77441772066403447.post-3800628294166680424</id><published>2009-03-29T10:42:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-29T10:47:14.881-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Curious</title><content type='html'>So, Since I haven't written in a while, I'm wondering if there is life out there still?&lt;br /&gt;Is there anyone that even reads this?&lt;br /&gt;Otherwise I'm taking all old post off, putting them into a book with Heritage Makers (www.MemoriesKeptAlive.com) and deleting this blog.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/77441772066403447-3800628294166680424?l=purposely4posterity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/feeds/3800628294166680424/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=77441772066403447&amp;postID=3800628294166680424' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/3800628294166680424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/3800628294166680424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/2009/03/just-curious.html' title='Just Curious'/><author><name>Queen of Hearts</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77441772066403447.post-5226666731995728074</id><published>2008-06-04T21:16:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-06-04T21:54:50.968-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='health'/><title type='text'>Glimpse into the Future</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;So last night I had bad chest pains, coupled with nausea.  Couldn't sleep or lay down, so I wrote sub plans so that I could take today off work and go to the doctor.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;When I called the Dr.'s office to make said apt.  they asked what I wanted to be seen for.  As soon a I said chest pain, they forwarded me to a nurse, who took all sort of history questions and asked about the pain.  Then she put me on hold and came back with, " I talked to the Dr. and you should go right into the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;emergency&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt; room."  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;What! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;I didn't think I was really, really sick.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;That was scary.  My physician didn't even want to see me first to listen to my heart and lungs, take blood &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;pressure&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;receive&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt; a copay, etc.  He just wanted me to go straight to the ER!   Isn't that where you go when your having an &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;emergency&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;?  Like dying, or &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;having&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt; an episode that leads to dying? Is chest pain, no, pressure really that big of a deal?  I mean, yes it hurt, but sending me to the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;emergency&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt; room, isn't that a bit drastic?  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;So I cried and then chatted &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;my husband, Velo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;.   He left work and came to get me.  The good man.  I felt lots better with him by my side.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;We got there and the nice young worker asked me what I needed as soon as I told him my story, he took me to be admitted.  When the next person asked about the chest pressure and I told them it felt like a cowboy was standing on me with his big '&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;ol&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt; boot, he said that is the description most commonly associated with a Heart Attack, and with my &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;diabetice&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;, it's not unlikely. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;So lots of worry on my part and many hours later, the hospital staff had done an EKG, which &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;apparently&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt; mines is a little abnormal, because &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;I &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;am a little abnormal, not cuz' I was sick.  They did some blood work to find that my enzyme levels were o.k. and not showing signs of recent distress.  They also found my kidneys and liver seemed to be doing well.  Great news, again because of the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;diabetic&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt; thing.  So finally to figure it all out, a CT scan. Making sure I didn't have any blood clots in my lungs.   Wow.   Radical stuff.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;After all that the doc came to tell me "there isn't a thing wrong with you."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;Good news, yes.  Frustrating to the person who couldn't sleep through the pain though.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;He told me his ideas on how to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;avoid&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt; the problem again and what he thought it most likely was.  Then &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;reminded&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt; me to take care of my &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;diabetes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt; because it puts me at greater risk for all this to be real.  Not the future I want.  Making this experience a valuable slap in the face. I need to make some changes in my life.  Even though it was all &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;benign&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;, I think I'll make a little more effort to eat right, exercise and watch my &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;bg&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;Oh, I almost forgot the best part.  I was so freaked out that the entire time all nine people who took my history asked about heart failure and disease I told them there was none.  It wasn't until I was almost done that I remembered, my mom died from a heart attack just four years ago.  Durh!  Bet the doctors thought I was a dummy when I had to correct myself on that one so late in the game.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/77441772066403447-5226666731995728074?l=purposely4posterity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/feeds/5226666731995728074/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=77441772066403447&amp;postID=5226666731995728074' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/5226666731995728074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/5226666731995728074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/2008/06/glimpse-into-future.html' title='Glimpse into the Future'/><author><name>Queen of Hearts</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77441772066403447.post-3683787293775338866</id><published>2008-05-26T18:38:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-05-26T18:39:36.695-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carson'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='memorial'/><title type='text'>My Son - Carson Taylor</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Carson visited this world on Jan. 8, 2007 for just under three hours.  Born early with anencephally we were so lucky to have him to love and hold for that space and time.  My greatest association with Carson is love.  He was such a wonderful loving little boy.  One could just feel it.  He infused me with it too, while I was pregnant with him.  It was such a pleasant pregnancy.  I’ve never felt healthier.  He had such a perfect little spirit, so full of compassion, obedience and kindness.  He would listen to his parents desires and try to obey, even while in the womb.  He would provide me with comfort when I was sad.  And helped me understand so much, including sacrifice, joy and sorrow.  Carson cared so much about us.  He was all the good things a person can be.  This is partially why it was so painful to loose him.  I am so glad to have been married for time and all eternity, that I may be sealed to my little prince forever.  I anxiously await the day I will be able to hold him again.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/77441772066403447-3683787293775338866?l=purposely4posterity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/feeds/3683787293775338866/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=77441772066403447&amp;postID=3683787293775338866' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/3683787293775338866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/3683787293775338866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/2008/05/my-son-carson-taylor.html' title='My Son - Carson Taylor'/><author><name>Queen of Hearts</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77441772066403447.post-276529482895332592</id><published>2008-05-26T18:37:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-05-26T18:38:16.043-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='memorial'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mom'/><title type='text'>My Mom - Cindy Lou</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;My beautiful mother suffered much in her late life.  She was so ill, yet tried so hard to not show her pain.  Always concerned with others lives, she would cast her own burdens to the side and emerse herself in her friends and family's problems, wishing she could fix them or help more.  She was the best person I have known.  An example of charity to the end.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;She always made a plate of goodies for the neighbors around Christmas.  She went to every little performance I had.  Supported me in all my endeavors.   Ached with me in my sorrows and heart aches.  In true motherly fashion she would wear coats and things from Good Will ( like the DI) so I could have my name brand clothing.  I learned so much from my mom, it just wasn’t enough.  A girl always needs her mommy.  The one person she should be able to call and have understand. I wish I could have had a chance to have her hold my babies.  She always did want to be a grandma.  I miss my mom, I miss my best friend.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/77441772066403447-276529482895332592?l=purposely4posterity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/feeds/276529482895332592/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=77441772066403447&amp;postID=276529482895332592' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/276529482895332592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/276529482895332592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/2008/05/my-mom-cindy-lou.html' title='My Mom - Cindy Lou'/><author><name>Queen of Hearts</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77441772066403447.post-5741393986437126470</id><published>2008-05-26T18:34:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-05-26T18:37:03.457-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grandpa'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='memorial'/><title type='text'>My Grandpa - Lebaron Morril Robinson</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;My grandpa was such a unique man.  He was so valient, honest and kind.  He was my father figure until my mother married when I was 4, almost 5.  I always looked up to him.  He had such an amazing testimony and he bore it well.  Not so much with words, but more so in action.  He was a wonderful husband, attending to his sweethearts every need.   He was the exact example of enduring to the end as he fought many types of cancer for many, many years.  He was patient and full of love.  As a true accountant he was very much the penny pincher.  One of the grandchildrens favorite stories about grandpa was when he was a young father and the family had gone out for 10 cent cones, grandpa’s ice cream fell off the cone, and he actually picked it up off the ground and ate it, not wanting to waste the 10 cents.  (Truth be know, he LOVED ice cream and I think he didn’t want that to go to waste.)  LeBaron was a wonderful man who passed on many of his traits to his children and grandchildren, like perfectionism, being a pack rat and having a buoyant upbeat attitude toward life.  I would always do anything he asked and with his memory close to my heart I strive to be the posterity he deserved. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/77441772066403447-5741393986437126470?l=purposely4posterity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/feeds/5741393986437126470/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=77441772066403447&amp;postID=5741393986437126470' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/5741393986437126470'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/5741393986437126470'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/2008/05/my-grandpa-lebaron-morril-robinson.html' title='My Grandpa - Lebaron Morril Robinson'/><author><name>Queen of Hearts</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77441772066403447.post-3693274114358745564</id><published>2008-05-26T18:32:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-05-26T18:34:44.411-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='testimony'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='memorial'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christ'/><title type='text'>My Savior - Jesus Christ</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;We talked about testimony’s in church yesterday and I have been reflecting on mine.  Also on this day of remembrance for those we’ve lost, I can’t help but think on the blessings of the resurrection.  I am so thankful for the atonement and the example of Christ’s life.  It buoys me up in times of sadness and when I am overwhelmed.  I believe that he came, he served others, he loved and he taught and then, that he died. But that he lives again.  I belive we too will have this same blessing of life again, every one of us.  I know we will be with our loved ones with whom we are departed.  I know they still care for us and watch over us when possible.  I believe in a God who loves us as his children and very literally is our Father in Heaven.  I am so grateful for the blessings I have been given.  I am grateful for my faith, for prayer, for undeserved blessings and confirmations by the Spirit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/77441772066403447-3693274114358745564?l=purposely4posterity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/feeds/3693274114358745564/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=77441772066403447&amp;postID=3693274114358745564' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/3693274114358745564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/3693274114358745564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/2008/05/my-savior-jesus-christ.html' title='My Savior - Jesus Christ'/><author><name>Queen of Hearts</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77441772066403447.post-6939163565965666854</id><published>2008-05-26T18:31:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-05-26T18:32:33.047-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I thank my God upon every remembrance of you.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Being Memorial Day I wanted to write a little something about the people in my life for whom this day is dedicated.  I am going to post them seperatly so as not to have one gigantic entry. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/77441772066403447-6939163565965666854?l=purposely4posterity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/feeds/6939163565965666854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=77441772066403447&amp;postID=6939163565965666854' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/6939163565965666854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/6939163565965666854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/2008/05/i-thank-my-god-upon-every-remembrance.html' title='I thank my God upon every remembrance of you.'/><author><name>Queen of Hearts</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77441772066403447.post-5600724328653060350</id><published>2008-05-10T22:57:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-05-10T23:06:46.156-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='health'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='weight'/><title type='text'>Good Advice from Good Housekeeping</title><content type='html'>For Christmas I was gifted Good Housekeeping Magazine.  It’s a super fun read and I’m choosing to believe it was not a hint.  So, part of my off track tasks include catching up on all the articles I’ve been wanting to read.&lt;br /&gt;One on food diary’s said this... “It’s easy to overlook bites, licks, and tastes (know as BLTs to professionals).  But that’s a huge mistake - there are 25 calories on average in each mouthful.  Translation: Six little bites a day add up to around 15 extra pounds a year.”&lt;br /&gt;Huh.   How about that.  I do plenty of BLTing.  (No thanks to all the “incentives” I have around the classroom and Kathy’s tempting little candy dish.) Maybe I’m just sabotaging myself.&lt;br /&gt;I know we all battle with weight and health issues, so I thought I’d share the knowledge.  I really believe that’s half the battle.&lt;br /&gt;Anyhow.  I’ve been loving www.myfooddiary.com    It has tons of food listings, is simple to use and really makes ya’ face reality too.&lt;br /&gt;On a more uplifting yet similar note, another article I read said that, “ We are often so focused on what is wrong with our bodies that we forget to remember what is right.  As if we are the sum of what is wrong with us....&lt;br /&gt;“Your body is your home.  And it’s hard to live in a home that you are constantly trashing.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;related links I found interesting:&lt;br /&gt;http://www.geneenroth.com&lt;br /&gt;http://www.mypyramid.gov/mypyramid/index.aspx.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/77441772066403447-5600724328653060350?l=purposely4posterity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.goodhousekeeping.com' title='Good Advice from Good Housekeeping'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/feeds/5600724328653060350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=77441772066403447&amp;postID=5600724328653060350' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/5600724328653060350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/5600724328653060350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/2008/05/good-advice-from-good-housekeeping.html' title='Good Advice from Good Housekeeping'/><author><name>Queen of Hearts</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77441772066403447.post-3911257434269375821</id><published>2008-05-02T08:19:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-05-02T08:36:03.641-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='absence'/><title type='text'>Off Track</title><content type='html'>So I'm off track again.  My goal this time.  To blog, I want to get in at least 6 blog &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;entry's&lt;/span&gt; before I go back on.  We'll see if that happens. &lt;br /&gt;I have been absent from the blogging world for so long because I am &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;truly&lt;/span&gt; an addict.  Christmas came in a whirl wind.  I slowly quit getting on to read all my dear blogs. Then as the new year rolled around, I began &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;counseling&lt;/span&gt;.  She, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;aforementioned&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;councilor&lt;/span&gt;, wanted me to start writing.  "Well good, I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;already&lt;/span&gt; do that", I thought.  I blog.  But &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;apparently&lt;/span&gt; I was supposed to be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;writing&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;privately&lt;/span&gt;.  Whatever.  Well, it seemed silly to write stuff down twice, so I didn't blog, and the time I spend reading them quickly got overtaken by whatever else. &lt;br /&gt;Back to being an addict. I don't feel like I can just jump back into blogs, so I have to go back into the back logs and read all of them that I'd missed.  But again, can't &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;just&lt;/span&gt; read them.  HAVE to comment.  I blame Dishes and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Laundry&lt;/span&gt; for that.  She started me in on the blogging &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;phenomenon&lt;/span&gt;.  And when she introduced me she said she was a comment hussy.  (I don't remember the real term she used, but that was the point.) She &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;did say &lt;/span&gt;she'd do anything for a comment. So, as a result I never read, without commenting.&lt;br /&gt;Here I am with all the time I've been needing to clean the house, catch up on all the half crafts I've started and get ready for next year's class and the end of this year at school, and what do I choose to do?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/77441772066403447-3911257434269375821?l=purposely4posterity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/feeds/3911257434269375821/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=77441772066403447&amp;postID=3911257434269375821' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/3911257434269375821'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/3911257434269375821'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/2008/05/off-track.html' title='Off Track'/><author><name>Queen of Hearts</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77441772066403447.post-4330517302449474811</id><published>2008-05-02T08:05:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-05-02T08:18:56.903-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><title type='text'>A Shout Out</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Today I was checking my &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;voice mails&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;, which I happen to check almost as frequently as I post.  I found out that many of my friends still love me and call to chat and see what's &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;goin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;' on.  I had messages from almost every one of my life long buds.  There was; Kimmy, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Neenee&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;, J., Meg, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;BFF&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;, the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Mauloulou's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt; and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Raimee&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;.  There was no Hope, but that's because she knows I don't check messages so she emails.  And there was no Chelsey.  That is because she thinks I am dead.  And I maybe, to her at least.  She is a faithful friend whom constantly calls and to no &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;avail&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;.  Chelsey.  I do love ya', and not mad, and no you did nothing to offend.  I'm just busy and incapable of taking care of the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Foosa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt; and doing anything else, although I'm learning and making progress.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to all those loyal friends who still love me even when I don't show it back.  You are all super important to me and have made me into the person I am today.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/77441772066403447-4330517302449474811?l=purposely4posterity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/feeds/4330517302449474811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=77441772066403447&amp;postID=4330517302449474811' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/4330517302449474811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/4330517302449474811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/2008/05/shout-out.html' title='A Shout Out'/><author><name>Queen of Hearts</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77441772066403447.post-7110225945870898022</id><published>2007-12-25T14:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-12-25T14:29:29.875-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parents'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gifts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='memories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='christmas'/><title type='text'>The Gifts of Life</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;This year Velo’s oldest sister had a wonderful idea for parent gifts. &lt;br /&gt;Each child gave some presents that were sentimental.   It sounded nice, but buying the people that brought you into this world and sacrificed nearly everything to rear you a gift that shows the gratitude you’ve developed for them is actually a rather daunting task.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Appearances are important to me, so each gift HAD to be wrapped.  I knew this was the kind of thing a parent would treasure forever, so I also HAD to type up the explanations for keepsake.  On each wrapped gift we put the “memory” or reason for the gift with the final explanation inside.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Here’s how it turned out...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Velo being the oldest went first.   He recapped what we’d written for the outside, then let Mom and/or Dad read them out loud and open the present with the “punchline” inside.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;We got them a c.d. of Cars music and a Willow Tree ornament to represent all the Lake Powell family trips.   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Then there were cookie mixes.  Sentimental of Mom’s goodness she often serves up.  Chocolate covered sunflower seeds for all the lessons Dad “planted” in his son (like not falling asleep while driving).  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Finally there were tie tack/pins shaped like sport balls that said CTR on them.  These were for the lessons taught to Velo by these wonderful parents.  Some, like the sports, didn’t stick, but some, like Choosing the Right, did.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;We followed with oldest to youngest.   Our next sister gave, an itunes gift card for all the music brought into the home, a plush fish for all the fishing trips and bonding times, a unpicker for her mothers help in doing things -especially sewing- right.  Finally she gave a sack of apples to resemble all the learning they had given and supported their children in.  That one made me tear up.  They do have two with Masters, one with a Bachelors, and one with enough credits at 20 to get an Associates.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Next sister gave them Smoothy mix for when they lived there and spilt it all over (and all the good food Mom makes).  There was an itunes gift card for how much Dad loves his music.   And the big tear jerker, her medal for one of her races.  See, she is an amazing runner and has had great support from her “number one fan”-Dad.   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Finally littlest sister got to go.  She told about the family’s traditions of food and how she loved to eat Lobster on Valentines.  So they got a Red Lobster gift card.  So clever.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;It was amazing.  It was super fun to hear the memories, see what had impressed people and how creative everyone had been able to be.  It was especially fun to find that everyone thought of itunes gift cards for Dad.  Too bad, and yet good thing we didn’t all follow through on that one.  Music was another big one.  People remember the music around the home.  Support was the other theme.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;It’s no wonder these two amazing people were able to attend the sealings of all their children and that everyone still loves to come home.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Can you think of anything you’d give your parents?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/77441772066403447-7110225945870898022?l=purposely4posterity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/feeds/7110225945870898022/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=77441772066403447&amp;postID=7110225945870898022' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/7110225945870898022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/7110225945870898022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/2007/12/gifts-of-life.html' title='The Gifts of Life'/><author><name>Queen of Hearts</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77441772066403447.post-427059589837149952</id><published>2007-12-22T13:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-12-22T13:25:46.341-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Edustructures'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='new job'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='christmas party'/><title type='text'>Company Party</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Quick update, went to the “new” jobs par-tee. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;They had an open bar.  My favorite kind.  All the seltzer and lemon I wanted! There were hourdurvours.  (How do you spell that any way?) Fancy!  And many gals in dresses nicer than church dress.  I was in jeans.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Lovely.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;That is why I had begged for five days for Velo to check with his new coworker about what he and his wife were wearing.  Oh well.  Lucky they let us sit most of the time and we had the excuse of being the new guys.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;We mingled, well, at least the best we could not knowing anyone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;We sat and filled out a survey scoring a whopping 5 hundred some points. (Seriously that was a lot!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;We were the first table to eat. So I grabbed a roll, salad, potatoes, put the brown stuff on my taters, put meaty main courses on my plate.  Grabbed the yummy dessert.  As I was heading back I noticed I didn’t get dressing for my salad.  I passed by the salad bowl again to see and with a sinking feeling realized the gravy I had put on my potatoes wasn’t gravy at all.  It was balsamic vinaigrette dressing.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Yeah, not good on garlic potatoes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;The rest of the night went well.  There was an auction for unknown prizes.  We won a 50 dollar Visa gift card.  One of the very best prizes.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;I made friends with some of the coworkers wives.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;And the boss told me I had come up several times during Velo’s hiring process because "my happiness was very important to him" (my husband).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Over all and VERY wonderful night.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/77441772066403447-427059589837149952?l=purposely4posterity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/feeds/427059589837149952/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=77441772066403447&amp;postID=427059589837149952' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/427059589837149952'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/427059589837149952'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/2007/12/company-party.html' title='Company Party'/><author><name>Queen of Hearts</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77441772066403447.post-704186722981043164</id><published>2007-12-12T10:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-12-12T10:13:40.597-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Velo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='job'/><title type='text'>New Job</title><content type='html'>My wonderful husband and provider went out and got several offers for different jobs.  After pitting them against each other...We took the one with the most pay, of course.  It’s almost enough of a raise to bring me home, if you include insurance benefits and my car loan getting paid off soon.&lt;br /&gt;Almost. &lt;br /&gt;So close, yet, not quite there. &lt;br /&gt;But I am so proud of him for being willing to get out there and sell himself. &lt;br /&gt;He’s going to be leaving Jordan School District after 4 1/2 years of service.  And trust me, it was that, service, cuz’ he did not get paid what he should have for all the demands of his job. The new job is a company called Edustructures.  (hope I am spelling it right.)  He is going to be doing help desk type stuff.  There will be less gas consumed because it is in South Jordan and one building, vs. traveling to a bunch of different schools and then over to the east side.   We are very psyched. &lt;br /&gt;Going to meet the co-workers Wednesday at the company Christmas party.  Feeling kind of nervous.  I’ll have to come back and document my first impressions.&lt;br /&gt;Congrats Velo! I’ll miss you at school, but I know you’ll do awesome!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/77441772066403447-704186722981043164?l=purposely4posterity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/feeds/704186722981043164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=77441772066403447&amp;postID=704186722981043164' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/704186722981043164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/704186722981043164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/2007/12/new-job.html' title='New Job'/><author><name>Queen of Hearts</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77441772066403447.post-8729303131238828814</id><published>2007-12-11T22:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-12-11T22:30:50.112-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='service'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grandma'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sitting'/><title type='text'>Grandma now</title><content type='html'>Just sitting here watching Grandma tonight.  This is my mothers mother.  She’s kinda’ cookoo now, but really she’s just gettin old.  Oh how I don’t anticipate that.  She helped raise me while my mom was off working and being a young single woman.  I have always been very close to my grandma. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This poor lady has health issues most people can’t imagine. And she’ll let you know it. She’s been sick her whole life.  I’m talking, her school teacher mother kept her at home for three years of elementary, kind of sick.  Poor thing, she’s just deteriorating, but keeps living. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that sounds cruel and harsh, but it’s what she wants.  To die that is.  The family is starting to wish it for her too.  Terrible, huh?! But when you see someone you love in horrific pain and struggling with life, not to mention whom desires death to befall her, you just want to see her peaceful again. Plus she is starting to ruin relationships with family members, and no one wants that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See, grandma has had a stroke that deadened the “happy” receptors in her brain.  She literally doesn’t feel pleasure. EVER.  Can you even imagine if all you felt was pain and fear, but nothing to balance that out?  For example, each time I’ve gotten pregnant, she hasn’t seemed to give a hoot.  But when I loose the baby, she is all up in arms and teary.  It’ s a kinda sick, sad way to show affection.  But she can’t help it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like I said, Poor lady!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Aunt Mole lives with her.  Noble lady.  She quit her job, left the life she knew and loved and moved up here to take care of her disabled mother.  This has been a huge blessing to me, but has been very strenuous on her.  I use to take care of grandma before Aunt Mole came, but now, I just have to take an evening here and there, and so I get a break from my home.  More importantly Aunt Mole gets a break from hers.  The side bonus is that grandma can have a little bit of variety in her life with someone new to talk to, or rather, complain to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are always good days though.  I get the warm fuzzies for doing service.   I feel like an important, helpful part of the family.  I learn new lessons on patience each time.  I also get to mix it up a bit by taking care of someone old, instead of someone young.  I really believe, that when I am helpful, my mother beams with pride and gratitude up in heaven. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you do anything selfishly,  under the guise of being helpful?  Or am I just twisted?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/77441772066403447-8729303131238828814?l=purposely4posterity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/feeds/8729303131238828814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=77441772066403447&amp;postID=8729303131238828814' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/8729303131238828814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/8729303131238828814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/2007/12/grandma-now.html' title='Grandma now'/><author><name>Queen of Hearts</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77441772066403447.post-891692475526678905</id><published>2007-11-27T10:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-27T10:34:21.118-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thanksgiving'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nebraska'/><title type='text'>Vacation in Nebraska</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;This week we vacationed in Nebraska.  We left on Monday night (like 10 o’clock). CRAZY! Then drove all  the way.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;We arrived in Eagle, where Hope lives, around noon.  We had lunch, slept, then I woke and went to the temple with them.  It was nice.  I haven’t been to do a session since before Carson was even a thought.  We went back to their home, ate dinner and slept.  In the morning we ate breakfast, I played with Serhen, got packed up and left for my daddy’s.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;We got there and after Velo and my dad brought in everything,  We just sat around and talked.  That was what we did the entire time we were there except Thanksgiving day.  We sat and talked, watched Transformers, ate, ate pie (my father bought 6 pies for 4 people!), played Wii, played apples to apples and pop 5, ate more pie, went to the store,  The last day we went to Chili’s to see my Sissy working.  She was at the ‘”bar top”.  It was fun.  I love her and love to watch her in action. She really did seem very good, and very much like our mother when she was waitressing.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;For Thanksgiving we went to Cass’s house.  That’s my dad’s girlfriend.  She seemed great.  I liked that she is somewhat religious. She says she prays for us each night to have a baby.  She talked about my mom with me.  I liked that she was willing to acknowledge that there had been my mother and my dad had loved her very much.  You know, like it wasn’t a threat to her that he had loved this other lady.  Cuz’ it isn’t a threat.  But most women would see it as one I think.  She was kind and warm.  Most importantly she makes my dad happy.  I like to see him happy again.  She is a health guru.  That’s good cuz’ my dad is working on being healthier because of her.  Maybe I’ll have to fold into Velo, his mother’’s, my dad’s and Cass’s pressure of eating healthier.  We met her sons.  The all seemed nice.  Her dad was there, but unfortunately her sister was not.  Her best friend Marty was there with his daughter Emily.  It was a nice dinner.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;I miss my family deeply.  I never really remember how much until I go and visit them.  Then I bawl like a baby as we drive away.  I know Velo always feels cruel taking me away from them. Poor guy.  It really was wonderful to go, relax and visit with my family and the important people to them.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/77441772066403447-891692475526678905?l=purposely4posterity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/feeds/891692475526678905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=77441772066403447&amp;postID=891692475526678905' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/891692475526678905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/891692475526678905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/2007/11/vacation-in-nebraska.html' title='Vacation in Nebraska'/><author><name>Queen of Hearts</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77441772066403447.post-8996412476048089276</id><published>2007-11-27T10:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-27T10:30:16.476-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thankful'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thanksgiving'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='2007'/><title type='text'>Thanksgiving 2007</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;Here are somethings I am thankful for this year.  They are not listed in any particular order.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;My family.  Velo, Carson, etc.  All of them.  I am here in Nebraska to celebrate with my dad and sister this year.  I love them both so much and miss them when I’m not with them.  I also love my family members who I live by and with me.  As well as Velo’s family and my  wonderful family in Arizona and Minneapolis.  I’m glad we keep met and can keep in some contact.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;My home and all that’s in it.  I have always dreamed of owning my own home .  Now that I do I simply love it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;Soda pop.  Yummy bubbles.  I’’m addicted.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;My entire time with Carson. Pregnancy and after, I treasure those memories and those moments I was able to have him with me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;Modern medicine. Yeah for insulin, antibiotics, antidepressants and vaccines.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;My car almost being paid off. Two more months! I thought it’d never come.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;That voucher’s didn’t pass. This year we had an amazing turn out for local voting.  Vouchers were on the ballot and everyone had an opinion.  Thankfully the communities showed support for public schools and didn’t vote for the voucher program.  Chalk one up for all Utahns, teachers and public schools.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;Good friends. Kimmy, BFF, J, Chelsey, Hope, Raimee, Meg, Nicole, Jode, Wendy, Cathy, Patty, Clouses, Neenee, Jared, Heywood’s, Howe’s, Thorley’s. (Hope I didn’t miss anyone.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;This MacBook laptop. Provided by my great job as a 1/2 time Kindergarten teacher.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/77441772066403447-8996412476048089276?l=purposely4posterity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/feeds/8996412476048089276/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=77441772066403447&amp;postID=8996412476048089276' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/8996412476048089276'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/8996412476048089276'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/2007/11/thanksgiving-2007.html' title='Thanksgiving 2007'/><author><name>Queen of Hearts</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77441772066403447.post-7354131458831986627</id><published>2007-11-18T01:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-18T01:55:30.331-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='first'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='first kiss'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boyfriends'/><title type='text'>Adolecent Rights of Passage</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;It was Sunday.  That didn’t mean anything particularly special in my family, but I decided I wanted to go to church, alone again, on this particular one.  Good thing too.  It opened up the gates for one of the adulthood rights of passage...  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;My First Boyfriend.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I had said I was “going out” with this boy, Calvin, the year before. in middle school, but that only lasted 24 hours Then I broke up with him.  It was the only thing I said to him while we were “together”.  So I don’t really count him.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Fast forward to year 14 of my life on this fine Sunday.  Kenny and I kept making eyes at each other during the lesson.  Poor Sunday school teacher, I mean - Really!   Finally after a few weeks of this.  We got each others phone numbers and he started visiting my house. We’d hang out downstairs.  He ate dinner with us a few times.  We would go on bike rides. All this lead to more passage of innocence... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;The First Kiss.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I don’t remember much more than standing at my front porch.  It was evening and we’d been hanging out or doing what ever it was we did.  Probably another bike ride.  I remember those being common.  Then, he did it. Just kinda’ went in for the kill.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;It wasn’t a nice peck or anything, it was the full blown, open mouth, adult kiss.  Luckily it wasn’t too wet or sloppy. (We were probably dehydrated from all that biking.) It was kinda’ minty.  From gum or whatever.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;That’s all.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Soon I got rid of Kenny for Josh. Kenny’s was fine.  We went our separate ways, we weren’t really in the same “click”.  No hard feelings.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Josh made me smile.  That is for about 3 months, then he made me cry.  It wasn’t a good break up.  But then again, it wasn’t a good relationship either.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I guess we were all just helping each other grow up a little.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/77441772066403447-7354131458831986627?l=purposely4posterity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/feeds/7354131458831986627/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=77441772066403447&amp;postID=7354131458831986627' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/7354131458831986627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/7354131458831986627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/2007/11/adolecent-rights-of-passage.html' title='Adolecent Rights of Passage'/><author><name>Queen of Hearts</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77441772066403447.post-4184995367418582424</id><published>2007-11-14T21:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-14T21:19:08.356-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='guilt'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='antidepressants'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='frustration'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='anger'/><title type='text'>GUILT</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;So there’s been A LOT going on lately in my life and I don’t believe I have it worse than others, stay tuned for one of my upcoming blogs. But comparing aside, my own personal life has been hard for me lately.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;The worst part. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;The Guilt!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;It’s kinda just part of my culture and life style. But I do it really badly and it only spirals into more guilt.  For example.  I’ve been stressed about how I am constantly taking care of others lately.  I go to work- I’m taking care of others.  I go home- I’m taking care of others.  I go to church- I’m talking care of others.  I leave my house- it’s to do something for someone else.  Off-track? - I’m taking care of others. Are you getting my pattern?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Now, I like to take care of others.  Really, I do.  I just get so darn exhausted and eventually I’m running on empty and wonder the deadly question...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Who takes care of me?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Now this is the deadly question, because when I’m run down is NOT the best time to start questioning others love for me.  Because that is what caring for one is right? Showing your love and  care  for that person. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;So I start getting resentful.  Resentful of all the people I usually voluntary take care of.  The same people that usually bring me joy.  They now bring me anger, and with the anger I dish up my heaping side of guilt.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;The guilt comes because of all the resentment I harbor towards people who  I love and don’t deserve my attitude or those unfortunate people who are in the crazy destructive path I lay for myself, when I get in these modes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I am angry cuz’ I’m always taking care of Foosa.  - Real feeling.  Then the guilt comes.  I shouldn’t be angry at Foosa, Sister, or her mom.  I have set up the pattern for taking responsibility for her.  Of course they expect it.  Duh! It's my own fault - Guilty feelings ensue because I don’t like to be angry.  I get angry at my husband for not doing each and every thought I have. Note that that was thought, not actual requests, those those get me all rilled up too.  Then guilt, for he is a good husband and doesn’t deserve to have a  C R A Z Y  wife after him.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;So in the end I am angry at a bunch of people, but then feel guilty for being upset and only then become angry at myself and loath me more. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Ahhhh! It’s exhausting just being me! Let alone the taking care of everyone. Taking care of me is a full time job.  I swear!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;In the end, I take comfort in knowing I’m crazy, cuz’ REALLY crazy people don’t know they’re crazy right?! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;My solution...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Hi ho the merry-o &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;back on the antidepressants I go.  &lt;br /&gt;(I’m also starting to work out too, experts say that it helps to stay physically and mentally fit. Let's hope these "experts" are right.)&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/77441772066403447-4184995367418582424?l=purposely4posterity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/feeds/4184995367418582424/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=77441772066403447&amp;postID=4184995367418582424' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/4184995367418582424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/4184995367418582424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/2007/11/guilt.html' title='GUILT'/><author><name>Queen of Hearts</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77441772066403447.post-7883535735538425748</id><published>2007-11-03T17:52:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-03T18:20:47.460-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='good day'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rest'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rested'/><title type='text'>A Good Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Just wanted to post about how good today has been.  I feel like I have been rather negative as of late. Perhaps that has been due to lack of rest or sickness.  Whatever the reason, it hasn't been pleasant for anyone.  Yesterday I went to the doctor.  I also took the last two days off work.  So, I have slept and sat on my bottom watchin' t.v.  It has been great.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I am now reaching that point where my body has rested all it needed to and I feel mentally and emotionally recharged.  My doc gave me meds to help my bod recoup from it's sickness and my hubby has been making efforts to keep me comfy.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Today I was able to sleep in until I naturally woke up. (A splendid rarity) Then I played some Guild Wars with my hub.  It's something we can do that makes him feel like I care and am making an effort to do something with him that he enjoys.  Then we went downstairs and ate breakfast, watched some t.v. we were behind on and came back upstairs several hours later to nap. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I got up when Foosa's mom went to work and watched her eat.  That's when it hit me...  I am happy.  Not just surviving the day.  Not just content.  There wasn't any anxiety about anything.  I didn't feel stressed to accomplish yet another task.  I was just glad to be sitting in my kitchen taking care of this silly, wonderful, beautiful toddling girl.  And grateful that I was able to cuddle with my sweetie.  I found myself realizing that it was so nice to just &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: arial;"&gt;be&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;.  I happily came upstairs when Foosa was done with her ranch chicken mess and we woke up Velo.  We all sat on the bed and played.  It was one of those ordinary, but simply amazing moments.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I am so glad for easy going today.  I feel a lot more like the me I like to be; someone grateful for the basic joys of life. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/77441772066403447-7883535735538425748?l=purposely4posterity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/feeds/7883535735538425748/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=77441772066403447&amp;postID=7883535735538425748' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/7883535735538425748'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/7883535735538425748'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/2007/11/good-day.html' title='A Good Day'/><author><name>Queen of Hearts</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77441772066403447.post-3956817988184821313</id><published>2007-10-31T23:14:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-10-31T23:33:07.161-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Halloween'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='getting older'/><title type='text'>All HallOLD's Eve</title><content type='html'>So today is the first day I have ever woken up NOT  excited for a holiday.  &lt;div&gt;I believe this officially marks the time when a persons little kid inside dies.  Sad for me.  I love to be a kid.  I love holidays, almost to a fault. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;However this morning, I woke up dreading that it was Halloween and I had to go to school and be pleasant.  I hated that the kids would be so wild and excited.  I loathed having to get dressed-up. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then it was time to go hand out candy.  I couldn't stay at home because Velo wanted to and someone needed to hand out at Grandma's.  I wanted Mole to take Foosa trick-or-treating.  Mole loves this kind of thing and could really use some happiness in her life.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;None of it was bad.  It just wanted good either.  That's the disappointing part.  It used to be good just because it&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt; was &lt;/span&gt;a holiday.  And now....it's just something else to do.  Something that I have to take care of.  Something that I need to spend time and money on. One more &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;to do&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There were, in hind sight, a few highlights.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The children were darling.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I saw one of my students from last year trick-or-treating in my neighborhood.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We went to the graves today.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There, no one can say I didn't try to look for the silver linings. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What kind of things make you feel old? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Do you like the holidays? What's your favorite part? What do you dread?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/77441772066403447-3956817988184821313?l=purposely4posterity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/feeds/3956817988184821313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=77441772066403447&amp;postID=3956817988184821313' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/3956817988184821313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/3956817988184821313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/2007/10/all-hallolds-eve.html' title='All HallOLD&apos;s Eve'/><author><name>Queen of Hearts</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77441772066403447.post-1935662822535470482</id><published>2007-10-30T03:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-10-30T03:05:09.020-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='posts'/><title type='text'>Extra, Extra</title><content type='html'>So I actually have all these different ideas and dealing I am writing about now.  They are all just in draft mode because sometimes I feel like I should be posting perfect articles.  Things that would make my journalism teacher Ms. Baird proud.  I'll try to remember I'm not going to win any awards for these and that they are really just to get my thoughts out. Let's see if I can remember that long enough to get something published soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/77441772066403447-1935662822535470482?l=purposely4posterity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/feeds/1935662822535470482/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=77441772066403447&amp;postID=1935662822535470482' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/1935662822535470482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/1935662822535470482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/2007/10/extra-extra.html' title='Extra, Extra'/><author><name>Queen of Hearts</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77441772066403447.post-7054310237366184739</id><published>2007-08-22T16:52:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-08-25T00:58:20.473-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cleaning up'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='putting things back'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='clean up'/><title type='text'>Your Mother Doesn't Live Here</title><content type='html'>So these last two weeks Velo and I have been locking up the church.  That's his calling.  We just love it.  It is relaxing, peaceful, one is able to do it on your own schedule and it is surprisingly necessary.&lt;br /&gt;Most nights there have been things for us to fix.  Now, I'm not sure about you, but I was taught to leave things in a better state than they were in before I had them/used them/etc.&lt;br /&gt;One night we drove by and there was a van out front.  Turns out someone was tuning the organ at 11:30 at night.  Strange we thought, but they scurried off when they heard us, so we never saw them or had to kick them out.  Strange, but not too bad.&lt;br /&gt;Another night, there was a light on in the clerks office.  Again this was abnormally late at night.  (We usually lock up right before we turn in to bed.)  Velo was going to leave it, but I thought he should at least tell them to double check that they closed the outside door behind them.  So he knocked on the door.  No answer, he knocked again and said hello.  No answer, Velo wanted to leave, I was outraged someone wouldn't even answer.  Rude! So we knocked louder and tried rattling the door.  You know, to really let them know someone wanted to talk to them.  Still no answer.  Velo decided to try his key.  This would surely make the culprit open the door.  The key worked!  It actually opened the door to the clerks office. We were super surprised.  However, no one was in the office.  They had just neglected to turn off the light.  Wow, they must have been in a rush to get out of there if they couldn't even have flipped the switch.&lt;br /&gt;My saddest events since we've been locking up have been; finding parked cars in the lot (with people in the backseats.) I mean, who goes to a church parking lot to make out-or worse? Velo found paint balled windows once on a outside check. And, once we found a rock and shards of glass on the floor of the R.S. room.  The window had been duct-taped by someone that day using the room for an activity, but the blatent vandalism made my heart sink into my stomach.&lt;br /&gt;How horrible to be so willing to just destroy property.&lt;br /&gt;These, amongst the very common; a/c left on, windows open, lights on and doors not locked up,  show an irresponsibility baffling to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Clean up your own mess. &lt;/span&gt; That doesn't just mean trash and garbage, that means putting things back, closing windows &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;you&lt;/span&gt; opened, flipping a switch when you leave, and making sure the building &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;you're &lt;/span&gt;using is kept clean and safe by simply locking it back up.  Is this such a difficult concept? Do we have so much to do we can't leave things in a better or at least similar state as we found them? Or is it just simply &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;someone elses&lt;/span&gt; job to clean up after us?&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;be responsible &lt;/span&gt;enough to take care of things that aren't even yours, but that you are taking the luxury of using.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/77441772066403447-7054310237366184739?l=purposely4posterity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/feeds/7054310237366184739/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=77441772066403447&amp;postID=7054310237366184739' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/7054310237366184739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/7054310237366184739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/2007/08/your-mother-doesnt-live-here.html' title='Your Mother Doesn&apos;t Live Here'/><author><name>Queen of Hearts</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77441772066403447.post-8157830119499623144</id><published>2007-08-19T13:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-08-19T13:40:00.946-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husband'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='church'/><title type='text'>Heavenly Husband</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I don't want to forget what just happened and how much it meant to me, so I'm blogging about it.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;A little background information...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;We have church at 1:00.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Early this morning I was up feeling sick.  Velo, my husband, was up taking care of me.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;We slept until 11:00 when our 2 yr. old cousin who lives with us, we call her Foosa, started screaming and bawling.  So we both sat up in our bed and beckoned her to come into our room.  She would have none of that.  Just wanted to scream I guess.  Eventually I got up and we went downstairs to see if she'd been feed yet.  She had, the evidence was there on the table, old eggs.  We played with the birds we have as pets for a few minutes, then I ate some breakfast. This didn't sit very well with me. Feed the lizards and We went back upstairs around 12:15.  Not enough time for me to get ready to go to church and get the baby ready.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Velo got up and got ready while I talked to Foosa's sister about going to church, how we could since we had no car seat (mom had taken it w/ her to work).  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Foosa loves church.  It's the only time she gets to play with other children.  She simply thinks nursery is the best.  Now I really believe in our church.  So I feel terrible keeping her away from a place she is so happy, because I think it will make a subconscious difference when she is older.  But I just wasn't feeling up to it, and Sister wasn't going to be going. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Additional background info. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Velo tries hard, but is still learning to deal with children.  Especially in large doses, like having an instant 2 yr. old living with us.  He also has a hard time making himself get ready and leave the house.  Even for church, although he to does believe in it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-weight: bold;"&gt;So to the point of this blog...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Velo gets himself ready and tells me to get Foosa ready for church and he will stroll her there.  So I and Sister can rest up for a few hours, Foosa can go to nursery and he will do as he knows is right.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow.  I may not seem like such a big deal down in words, but here in reality, it was a BIG deal.  I am so grateful for a husband whom honors his priesthood duties, is willing to be the example and still go to church with the Foosa even when it isn't convenient. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Breaking it down again,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Velo took Foosa.  Big deal because he tries, but is still working on the kid thing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Velo strolled Foosa.  Big deal because that is much more work than driving or staying at home.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Velo strolled Foosa to church.  Major deal because church is important, but even though I say that, he acted, and he &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;did &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;it. &lt;br /&gt;He took the active role and he is helping her see it is important.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;I love that man.  I am so glad I have him in my life and I am so glad he will stand up and do what is right.  Even when it isn't easy.  I am so proud of him.  Today he inspires me to be better and do more.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/77441772066403447-8157830119499623144?l=purposely4posterity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/feeds/8157830119499623144/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=77441772066403447&amp;postID=8157830119499623144' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/8157830119499623144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/8157830119499623144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/2007/08/heavenly-husband.html' title='Heavenly Husband'/><author><name>Queen of Hearts</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77441772066403447.post-6518640452472276913</id><published>2007-08-18T00:07:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-08-18T00:31:41.486-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='begining the blog'/><title type='text'>In the Begining</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;So here it is, the breaking down of my &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;insistence&lt;/span&gt; that I don't need to blog because I just comment on others blogs.  Lately, I have been really enjoying reading my friends &amp; families blogs.  So when talking with a good buddy, dishesandlaundrey.blogspot.com, we discussed how great it is that people are finally doing the journaling and history we've always been told to be working on.  Ever since, I've been playing around with the idea and finally gave in by starting a blog for my school stories. I have not started that blog yet though because I keep thinking about things I could blog about and reasons to take the time to actually DO it that weren't work related, at all.  In the end, I decided to make a "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;personal&lt;/span&gt;" blog too.  But lets be honest, how &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;personal&lt;/span&gt; can a publicly viewable diary be? Well, we'll see I suppose.  I may have a large following, or I may just be putting stuff down that may be read by offspring some day.  I must admit, I do hope someone, somewhere along the way will read this.  If I'm really lucky maybe I can inspire, uplift, bring joy or just be closer, to someone, anyone.  Who knows, I may just surprise myself and the person I might help the most will be...&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;me!&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/77441772066403447-6518640452472276913?l=purposely4posterity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/feeds/6518640452472276913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=77441772066403447&amp;postID=6518640452472276913' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/6518640452472276913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/77441772066403447/posts/default/6518640452472276913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://purposely4posterity.blogspot.com/2007/08/in-begining.html' title='In the Begining'/><author><name>Queen of Hearts</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
