<?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-117400413472212041</id><updated>2011-11-30T23:39:35.279-07:00</updated><category term='2009'/><category term='Lopsey'/><category term='Ten I love'/><category term='movies'/><category term='Holding hands'/><category term='Five Love Languages'/><category term='Charries'/><category term='Katie&apos;s wedding'/><category term='sing'/><category term='flower'/><category term='Five Dysfunctions of a Team'/><category term='train'/><category term='Job'/><category term='Violin'/><category term='mouse'/><category term='Baby'/><category term='Halloween'/><category term='ducks'/><category term='MPS'/><category 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term='Prepare'/><title type='text'>Roses in the Road</title><subtitle type='html'>...sometimes we leave roses in the road in hopes that someone will find them...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>262</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-6384294490595679087</id><published>2011-11-02T08:29:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-11-02T08:39:00.043-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Morning Sickness?</title><content type='html'>I'm pregnant! That's why I haven't blogged in forever. You can check out my other blog (&lt;a href="http://thelamprechts.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://thelamprechts.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;) for more details on that. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But I finally understanding what morning sickness is. And I now understand that it is the BIGGEST misnomer that has ever existed. EVER.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;They should have named it "Life in the Underworld" or "The Never Ending Terribleness" or even "You'll Regret Getting Pregnant." I think any one of those would apply. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;All in all, it's a miraculous day if I don't throw up. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But let's think positive. I am grateful for morning sickness because then I know the baby is still there. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-6384294490595679087?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/6384294490595679087/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=6384294490595679087' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/6384294490595679087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/6384294490595679087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/11/morning-sickness.html' title='Morning Sickness?'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-930072824172831953</id><published>2011-09-23T07:31:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-09-23T07:35:29.669-06:00</updated><title type='text'>R.I.P.</title><content type='html'>He's dead. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cerise and I shared Little Blue as our Christmas present the year I turned 9. He was the best blow dryer I have ever used. He has hot and strong. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When Cerise went to college, I told her she had to leave Little Blue behind. When I went to college, I took him with me. Now I'm 22. Yesterday morning, poor Little Blue stopped working. I think 13 years isn't bad for a WalMart blow dryer. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Life just won't be the same without him...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-930072824172831953?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/930072824172831953/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=930072824172831953' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/930072824172831953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/930072824172831953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/09/rip.html' title='R.I.P.'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-1373433489487966124</id><published>2011-09-21T08:55:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-09-21T09:20:38.170-06:00</updated><title type='text'>You're My Favorite</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I thought I'd just fill in a few blanks --&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;My favorite color: Green&lt;div&gt;My favorite animal: White tiger&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My favorite untensil: Little spoon&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My favorite piece of clothing: My accessories&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My favorite time of day: Meal time (Or more recently bed time)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My favorite Harry Potter house: Slytherin&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My favorite actress: Zooey Deschanel&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My favorite shoe brand: Nine West or Colin Stuart&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My favorite toenail polish color: Neon pink&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My favorite TV show: Firefly&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-1373433489487966124?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/1373433489487966124/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=1373433489487966124' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/1373433489487966124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/1373433489487966124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/09/youre-my-favorite.html' title='You&apos;re My Favorite'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-8803266705210406320</id><published>2011-09-16T10:45:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-09-16T11:02:45.858-06:00</updated><title type='text'>You Rock, I Rock, Not Everyone Rocks</title><content type='html'>I like dependable people. Should I use the word 'love' instead?&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As a student at a ridiculously competitive university, it is necessary for me to cleave to other dependable people. Otherwise, my life/grades would be in shambles. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Isn't it sad when grades=my life? Or is it my life=grades?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Regardless, I am thankful for all the dependable people in this world, and I hope that I can always repay the favor. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-8803266705210406320?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/8803266705210406320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=8803266705210406320' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/8803266705210406320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/8803266705210406320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/09/you-rock-i-rock-not-everyone-rocks.html' title='You Rock, I Rock, Not Everyone Rocks'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-5287694918392600851</id><published>2011-09-12T09:40:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-09-12T09:48:19.136-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Got a Twenty-Dollar Bill that Says No One's Ever Seen You Without Makeup</title><content type='html'>My dad once said something to me that stuck with me forever. (Probably one of the few things that he didn't have to repeat over and over again. Gosh, I remember him always saying, "No pajamas after 8 a.m.!" and "Stop complaining. I'm out here too." Oh, how I don't miss those days.)&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The one thing that my dad told me that has always stuck to me?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"If you have to rush to do your makeup, it's better if you just don't do it."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think it's true. I hate to see people who look like they rolled out of bed with yesterday's makeup on (which was actually just smeared from application during a bumpy car ride). Most of the time, it just looks like you tried to apply it without a mirror. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So to all the women out there -- take my dad's advice.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Take the time or take it natural.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-5287694918392600851?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/5287694918392600851/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=5287694918392600851' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/5287694918392600851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/5287694918392600851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/09/i-got-twenty-dollar-bill-that-says-no.html' title='I Got a Twenty-Dollar Bill that Says No One&apos;s Ever Seen You Without Makeup'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-8166728685186512720</id><published>2011-09-07T10:08:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-09-07T10:17:52.264-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh Food</title><content type='html'>One reason I get excited about road trips is that it's an excuse to eat out EVERY meal.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Unfortunately, that sensation only lasts about 36 hours before you wish that you had your own kitchen...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Or maybe it's just cause I don't road trip to Provo, which has SO many great places to eat.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Top 5 Places I Like to Eat in Provo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. Zupas&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Jimmy Johns&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Costa Vida&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. India Palace&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. Olive Garden&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Top 5 Places I Like to Eat In and Around Provo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. Oishi Sushi&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. 5 Guys &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Kneaders&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. Chick-fil-a&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. Gurus &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-8166728685186512720?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/8166728685186512720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=8166728685186512720' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/8166728685186512720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/8166728685186512720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/09/oh-food.html' title='Oh Food'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-930589272415586930</id><published>2011-08-31T09:06:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2011-08-31T09:10:06.769-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My Morning Coffee</title><content type='html'>I think every girl/boy has guilty pleasures. &lt;div&gt;One of mine is the first half hour at work before things get busy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. One episode of Scrubs.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. &lt;a href="http://www.geekfill.com/page/2/"&gt;Geekfill.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's hilarious. They are both hilarious. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's a good way to start your day :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;(Warning: Both can be slightly vulgar.) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-930589272415586930?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/930589272415586930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=930589272415586930' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/930589272415586930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/930589272415586930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/08/my-morning-coffee.html' title='My Morning Coffee'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-9184775676199024597</id><published>2011-08-22T13:18:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2011-08-22T14:08:24.580-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Seventeen Again</title><content type='html'>Sometimes it's weird to think about who you are and who you've become. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Seventy-five percent of you probably feels like it hasn't changed --- not since you were 17.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Twenty percent is probably things you could have never guessed -- what career you now pursue, who you spend your time with, etc.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And that last 5 percent are the changes that you've made on your own, the very same changes that make you a different person.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That's kind of how I feel like anyway. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;10 Things that I do now, that I didn't when I was 17&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. Go running&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Care about if I eat that brownie&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Play tennis&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. Blog&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. Go out for food other than for social reasons&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;6. Care about my healthcare coverage&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;7. Buy water bottles &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;8. Try to keep a bed time&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;9. Keep my toenails pink every day&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;10. Drink grapefruit juice (every day)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;10 Things I did when I was 17 that I don't do now&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. Dance for hours&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Play the violin&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Talk on the phone for hours&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. Eat pizza every day&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. Organize my closet according to sleeve length&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;6. Sing ALL the time&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;7. Do my makeup every day&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;8. Drink a lot of water&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;9. Curl my eye lashes&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;10. Wear leather wristbands and multiples rings&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;10 Things that will never change&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. Wear my pearl necklace every day&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Collect recipes, movie stubs and fortune cookie inserts&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Enjoy reading in my 'spare' time&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. Love heals/wedges and hate flats&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. Eat green m&amp;amp;ms last because it's my favorite color&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;6. Always be aware of the time&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;7. Enjoy cooking... especially treats&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;8. Enjoy eating... especially treats&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;9. Love planning parties/events&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;10. Carry around chapstick&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Vozc3eDWaIk/TlK2UShVcmI/AAAAAAAABPU/SsaXoUYiaWk/s1600/Jewelry.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Vozc3eDWaIk/TlK2UShVcmI/AAAAAAAABPU/SsaXoUYiaWk/s320/Jewelry.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643773742733947490" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;Actually, I was 16 in this picture.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-9184775676199024597?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/9184775676199024597/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=9184775676199024597' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/9184775676199024597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/9184775676199024597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/08/seventeen-again.html' title='Seventeen Again'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Vozc3eDWaIk/TlK2UShVcmI/AAAAAAAABPU/SsaXoUYiaWk/s72-c/Jewelry.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-9136347684454572295</id><published>2011-08-18T09:11:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-08-18T09:19:54.177-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Crossdressers</title><content type='html'>This isn't going to be as exciting as you probably thought it would be. &lt;div&gt;But here's my little FYI on the crossdressing comment:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A few days ago at a work meeting, my co-workers noticed that my toes are really long, and my second toe is longer than my big toe. NBD. Everyone always notices it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But the subject of long extremities led to hands and fingers.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Notice how my pointy finger is longer than my ring finger?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0ziGihctgWY/Tk0tU5nXVWI/AAAAAAAABPM/qzBgr_YS8Ro/s1600/IMG_4160.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0ziGihctgWY/Tk0tU5nXVWI/AAAAAAAABPM/qzBgr_YS8Ro/s320/IMG_4160.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642215745251661154" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Apparently, it's the opposite for men. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So... if you're ever about to hook up with someone, but you suddenly wonder if they are a crossdresser, you can check via the fingers. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I, personally, have never had to do the finger check (please do not mix up with the common term 'ring check'), but apparently it's a sensitive topic in the office ;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-9136347684454572295?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/9136347684454572295/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=9136347684454572295' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/9136347684454572295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/9136347684454572295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/08/crossdressers.html' title='Crossdressers'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0ziGihctgWY/Tk0tU5nXVWI/AAAAAAAABPM/qzBgr_YS8Ro/s72-c/IMG_4160.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-3952842980135487705</id><published>2011-08-17T09:00:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-08-17T09:26:48.200-06:00</updated><title type='text'>'They Call Me Stacy, That's Not My Name!'</title><content type='html'>Why would a parent ever name you something, then call you by your middle name? I just don't understand. I understand if you're named the same thing as your father, so they call you by your middle name or 'Junior' so as not to mix you up, but otherwise, why?&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I want to name one of my children Bryton Cassidy Lamprecht. But if I wanted to call him Cassidy, I would just name him Cassidy Bryton Lamprecht. Seriously. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I remember that my parents were going to name Ferree as Esther Ferree Buck, but when she was born, they changed it to Ferree Esther Buck. They liked the name Ferree better. That makes sense. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So when it comes down to it, people make the world a lot more confusing that it has to be. Why hyphenate your last name when you get married? Just change it. Why add random silent letters in your kid's names?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Or, why be a cross dresser? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-3952842980135487705?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/3952842980135487705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=3952842980135487705' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/3952842980135487705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/3952842980135487705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/08/they-call-me-stacy-thats-not-my-name.html' title='&apos;They Call Me Stacy, That&apos;s Not My Name!&apos;'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-5995687961811087398</id><published>2011-08-09T16:02:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-08-09T16:13:52.407-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Just A Day, An Ordinary Day</title><content type='html'>While the whole world is probably blogging about how absolutely beautiful I am today... today just happened to be one of those days. And it always happens on a 15 hour work day.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I woke up just long enough to reset my alarm to 15 min later before falling back asleep. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Only to wake up with Jaren laying on top of me, so I went back to sleep again. Why fight off the inevitable. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So... I didn't have time to take a shower. Luckily I bought some hair clips last weekend. I pulled half my hair back in a clip, put on my gaudiest earrings and slumped out the door. (Well, first I made Jaren's lunch,&lt;i&gt; then&lt;/i&gt; slumped out the door.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I went to work. A co-worker called in sick without finding a replacement. It was super busy. I spent an hour finding 5 DVDs for... no names right? There was only 5 people at manager's meeting, but it took just as long, if not longer than normal. I went home real quick at two, only to find Jaren's lunch untouched. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If I had a grave, I'd roll over in it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-5995687961811087398?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/5995687961811087398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=5995687961811087398' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/5995687961811087398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/5995687961811087398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/08/just-day-ordinary-day.html' title='Just A Day, An Ordinary Day'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-1445509627519045570</id><published>2011-08-08T09:35:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-08-08T10:12:38.310-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Zucchini God Smiles Upon Me</title><content type='html'>My favorite quick bread and spaghetti ingredient is zucchini. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0P9Ln_HZfUw/TkAJ5Vp6gxI/AAAAAAAABPE/K8mMNHwm0oY/s1600/zucchini.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 184px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0P9Ln_HZfUw/TkAJ5Vp6gxI/AAAAAAAABPE/K8mMNHwm0oY/s320/zucchini.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5638517614138000146" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Zucchinis -- the vegetable that I loathed the most while growing up. The vegetable that would magically grow in our California garden when &lt;i&gt;all&lt;/i&gt; other plants shriveled. The vegetable that our Georgian church friends would gladly &lt;i&gt;unload&lt;/i&gt; upon our shoulders because they had way too many. The vegetable that I have suddenly over the past year grown to love -- and learned I &lt;i&gt;can't afford&lt;/i&gt;!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That's right. At the grocery store, zucchinis cost like $2.99/lb while I watch with envious eyes as people &lt;i&gt;I am invisible to&lt;/i&gt; gladly exchange their green zucchini for the relief of not having it anymore. I don't know how often I wished I was seven again, only to sneak a zucchini into the year 2011. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, my friends, yesterday, the zucchini God smiled upon me. We were at Jaren's cousin's house, when on our way out the door (after a lavishing evening of cake and Apples-to-Apples), I was offered a zucchini! That's right! A real zucchini! I thought it was a joke at first. Did they see me eyeing their zucchini plant with pure lust in my eyes?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Regardless, I owe G and E a lot. I have been the loving thoughts of their disposables that I treasure SO much :) Remember the &lt;a href="http://thelamprechts.blogspot.com/2011/07/birthday-extravaganza.html"&gt;KitchenAid&lt;/a&gt; that I love?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-1445509627519045570?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/1445509627519045570/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=1445509627519045570' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/1445509627519045570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/1445509627519045570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/08/zucchini-god-smiles-upon-me.html' title='Zucchini God Smiles Upon Me'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0P9Ln_HZfUw/TkAJ5Vp6gxI/AAAAAAAABPE/K8mMNHwm0oY/s72-c/zucchini.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-7778076104180100521</id><published>2011-08-05T19:49:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2011-08-05T20:11:09.290-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Easy A = A+</title><content type='html'>So, for all those who haven't seen the movie "Easy A," I would say, 'Just do it!' &lt;div&gt;It's probably the best chick-flick that has come out since "John Tucker Must Die" and I would rate it even higher than that. Actually, I would rate it 5/5 stars. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The script was acted out so perfectly; it didn't even seem like someone was &lt;i&gt;trying&lt;/i&gt; to make the movie funny -- which I must say, the movie was &lt;i&gt;hilarious&lt;/i&gt;. They probably couldn't have picked better actors for the parts (Which I will add, what HAPPENED to Amanda Byne's face??? I tried to research it, but it seems like there is only speculation of added weight and maybe plastic surgery gone wrong. Some people couldn't even tell. Are you KIDDING me? She looks like a puffed up chipmunk.).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't know if I'd recommend it to your average 8-year-old kid because of the sexual references &lt;i&gt;all over the place &lt;/i&gt;(I mean, it's &lt;i&gt;titled&lt;/i&gt; Easy A)&lt;i&gt;, &lt;/i&gt;but I would highly recommend taking an evening in with your significant other and rolling with the punches. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-n2qCR8U-suU/TjyiUylCduI/AAAAAAAABO8/iaSdoBpNfVM/s1600/easy%2Ba.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-n2qCR8U-suU/TjyiUylCduI/AAAAAAAABO8/iaSdoBpNfVM/s320/easy%2Ba.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637559311619225314" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;P.S. I was more than excited to see Penn Badgley who also starred in "John Tucker Must Die." I think it added the strawberries to the already added frosting to the cake. I think that's how it goes ;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-7778076104180100521?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/7778076104180100521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=7778076104180100521' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/7778076104180100521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/7778076104180100521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/08/easy-a.html' title='Easy A = A+'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-n2qCR8U-suU/TjyiUylCduI/AAAAAAAABO8/iaSdoBpNfVM/s72-c/easy%2Ba.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-606690956705874410</id><published>2011-08-02T08:44:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-08-02T10:41:03.629-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Words</title><content type='html'>One of my co-workers and I were telling each other stories today, and he used a term that I haven't heard in like, forever:&lt;div&gt;Fugly. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The origin of the word means "F&amp;amp;*king Ugly," but I prefer to think "Fat and Ugly." Because that's what I usually mean. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;(Not that I say it anymore.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Other old terms I haven't heard in a while:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hip&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;All that and a bag of chips&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As if!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The Bomb&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So dope&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Home skillet&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mofo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh, snap&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Psyche!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Scrub&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Shiznit&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Talk to the hand&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-606690956705874410?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/606690956705874410/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=606690956705874410' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/606690956705874410'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/606690956705874410'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/08/words.html' title='Words'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-241284776714952024</id><published>2011-08-01T16:11:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-08-01T16:20:11.606-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Are You Satisfied?</title><content type='html'>Today I was thinking about how people aren't changers. Naturally, we don't decide to just move to another town for no reason, change our style of clothing for fun, decide to learn a foreign language out of the blue, or even pick something new on the menu when we have a favorite. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We need a reason or a complaint to change apartment complexes. Satisfaction is enough. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We just need to be &lt;i&gt;satisfied&lt;/i&gt; with our phone coverage and &lt;i&gt;satisfied&lt;/i&gt; with our social life. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But I warn you. Don't marry someone just because you're &lt;i&gt;satisfied&lt;/i&gt;. Or comfortable. I didn't. My life is more than satisfactory. I would hate to be living, just satisfied with what I'm doing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-241284776714952024?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/241284776714952024/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=241284776714952024' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/241284776714952024'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/241284776714952024'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/08/are-you-satisfied.html' title='Are You Satisfied?'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-4852539306377834050</id><published>2011-07-29T11:21:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-07-29T11:26:22.420-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A Little Too Personal</title><content type='html'>There's this guy that works IN my office, but he's not PART of my office.&lt;br /&gt;They just put him here because they had nowhere else to put him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, when I'm working as a secretary, I answer phone calls, take messages and forward calls.&lt;br /&gt;Oddly, he is the only one in our office that feels the need to tell me where he's going every time he steps out and asks me to forward all of his phone calls to his cell (instead of just forwarding his phone manually).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe at his last job he had a personal secretary. I think he just likes the feeling that someone is there, answering his phone calls and forwarding them to his phone for him. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"He's not here right now, would you like me to forward you to his cell phone? Ok, just a moment please."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-4852539306377834050?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/4852539306377834050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=4852539306377834050' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/4852539306377834050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/4852539306377834050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/07/little-too-personal.html' title='A Little Too Personal'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-5703102295711269067</id><published>2011-07-26T09:09:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-07-26T09:16:29.895-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Drive, My Pretty</title><content type='html'>We went to and came back from California to visit family. My&lt;a href="http://www.thelamprechts.blogspot.com"&gt; other blog&lt;/a&gt; has/will have more details and pictures. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But on the way there and on the way back, we did A LOT of driving. We split it up pretty evenly. He drove from Provo to Las Vegas and I drove from Las Vegas to LA on the way there, and we switched on the way back.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I really only had two thoughts while driving:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. Holy construction!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Why are these people out driving at like 2 &amp;amp; 3 am? Oh wait. I am too...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-5703102295711269067?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/5703102295711269067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=5703102295711269067' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/5703102295711269067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/5703102295711269067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/07/drive-my-pretty.html' title='Drive, My Pretty'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-1128157050565162236</id><published>2011-07-18T09:24:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-07-18T09:32:21.891-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Too Good To Live</title><content type='html'>This seems really cruel to post this after my last post, but I can't get my mind off of it.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ever since I was little, I thought I wanted to die early in life. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(I promise this isn't about suicide or something ridiculously morbid.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's really the influence of media. And maybe church...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, did you ever watch Little Women? Or Four Brothers?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My point is that the good person always dies early.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At church, whenever people die, everyone else talks about how good of a person they were, and that God needs them in heaven. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So... when I was little, I believed that if I was good enough, I would be SO good that I would die early in life. It just made sense to me. I would be TOO good to live on earth.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yeah, well, it didn't happen. I'm still alive. And at this point, I'd rather not die. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm married now, and I wouldn't want to give everything up at this time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Does that mean that I should go steal something? I really want to live right now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-1128157050565162236?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/1128157050565162236/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=1128157050565162236' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/1128157050565162236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/1128157050565162236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/07/too-good-to-live.html' title='Too Good To Live'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-93565655266160696</id><published>2011-07-14T15:13:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-07-14T15:20:16.987-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Inspiration</title><content type='html'>I met someone today.&lt;div&gt;I thanked her for sharing a part of her day with me, but in reality, she shared much more.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today, July 14th, is the one year anniversary of her daughter's death. She would have been 24. I'm 22. To commemorate, she's doing things today that her daughter liked to do: hiking in the mountains and going to the temple. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today, July 14th, is the day that I met this amazing mother. She's the same age as my mom and has the same amount of children, ranging in the exact same ages. Except for this woman lived to see her child die. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But she is strong. She is active (she beat all of her children up to the top of the hike). And she is positive. (Did I mention she's also strictly organic and only eats whole foods?)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She inspired me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dear lady, I hope you're proud. Because I was proud to meet you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-93565655266160696?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/93565655266160696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=93565655266160696' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/93565655266160696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/93565655266160696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/07/inspiration.html' title='Inspiration'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-640831579941572215</id><published>2011-07-14T10:45:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-07-14T10:47:22.074-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Click Click</title><content type='html'>I do this odd clicking noise with my tongue sometimes. It usually means 'yeah.'&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And oddly... I found a guy at work that does the same thing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Odd&lt;i&gt;est&lt;/i&gt;, we did it at the same time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yeah, odd. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-640831579941572215?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/640831579941572215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=640831579941572215' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/640831579941572215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/640831579941572215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/07/click-click.html' title='Click Click'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-9054893438993548449</id><published>2011-07-12T09:44:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-07-12T09:49:50.304-06:00</updated><title type='text'>MIT Talks About Love</title><content type='html'>MIT did &lt;a href="http://www.smu.edu.sg/news_room/smu_in_the_news/2011/sources/ChinaWeekly_20110405_1.pdf"&gt;a study&lt;/a&gt; about the phrase "I love you."&lt;div&gt;It said that contrary to media, men are more likely to say "I love you" first, and think about it even 6 weeks before the woman does.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I thought that the most interesting part was when it states that men respond more positively to the phrase if the couple hasn't had sex yet (a promise of sex) than the females, who respond more positively if the couple already has already had sex (a promise of commitment). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Basically, I ask myself again why Jaren didn't say it first. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If the study wasn't from MIT, I almost wouldn't believe it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-9054893438993548449?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/9054893438993548449/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=9054893438993548449' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/9054893438993548449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/9054893438993548449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/07/mit-talks-about-love.html' title='MIT Talks About Love'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-5908582569882211948</id><published>2011-07-11T15:30:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-07-11T16:04:00.345-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Gross Bug Bites</title><content type='html'>If I could get rid of a species, it would be bugs. Does that make it a whole kingdom? Phylum?&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, in the last week, I've gotten 7 bug bites. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Jaren = 0. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;WHY???&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;They ITCH SO much!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;:(&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-5908582569882211948?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/5908582569882211948/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=5908582569882211948' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/5908582569882211948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/5908582569882211948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/07/gross-bug-bites.html' title='Gross Bug Bites'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-4615662733766158222</id><published>2011-07-06T19:34:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2011-07-06T19:41:19.100-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm a B*%@#. What are You?</title><content type='html'>I was called a b*%@# today.&lt;div&gt;But in a good way. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Some of my friends were explaining what it takes to be a manager. I think the exact quote was something like this:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Boy 1: "Well, you know, to be a manager, you kind of have to be a b*%@#."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: "Wait... as a manager, what are you trying to say???"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Boy 1: "You know what I mean. You have to fit the right proto-type, which includes being a b*%@#."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Girl 1: "And face it, you are a b*%@#."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Boy 2: "But in a good way of course."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Girl 1: "That's what makes you such a great manager!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've never been so proud of being a b*%@# in my life!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-4615662733766158222?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/4615662733766158222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=4615662733766158222' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/4615662733766158222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/4615662733766158222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/07/im-b-what-are-you.html' title='I&apos;m a B*%@#. What are You?'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-5252293130584271047</id><published>2011-06-30T07:43:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-30T07:44:51.936-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Using Our Senses</title><content type='html'>I walked outside today, and it smelled like rotten eggs.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-5252293130584271047?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/5252293130584271047/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=5252293130584271047' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/5252293130584271047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/5252293130584271047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/06/using-our-senses.html' title='Using Our Senses'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-3624598797729369597</id><published>2011-06-28T08:35:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-28T08:47:50.743-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Matchers</title><content type='html'>While I heard that the movie Beastly was pretty terrible, I was mildly intrigued that Mary Kate Olsen was in it. I felt like the Olsen twins haven't been in the spotlight in like... a long time. &lt;div&gt;So naturally I spent the next hour reading up on them. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I find it odd that Ashley is taller than Mary Kate by an inch, but Ashley wears shoe size 5.5 and Mary Kate is a 6.5. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think it's funny that Ashley's fashion lines are super expensive now, but they used to be a one of Wal-Mart's number one sellers. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I knew they have a younger sister named Elizabeth, but I didn't know about their older brother Trent. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think that they were prettier a few years ago, but I still think that Ashley is gorgeous. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cTBpuF6on24/TgnpMNjCbkI/AAAAAAAABO0/0aivkuw_iuQ/s1600/olsen%2Bfamily.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 217px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cTBpuF6on24/TgnpMNjCbkI/AAAAAAAABO0/0aivkuw_iuQ/s320/olsen%2Bfamily.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623282005753097794" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;This is probably the prettiest picture I found of them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-3624598797729369597?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/3624598797729369597/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=3624598797729369597' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/3624598797729369597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/3624598797729369597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/06/matchers.html' title='Matchers'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cTBpuF6on24/TgnpMNjCbkI/AAAAAAAABO0/0aivkuw_iuQ/s72-c/olsen%2Bfamily.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-5858856418859720698</id><published>2011-06-27T14:29:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-27T14:34:09.607-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Deeply... Sleeping</title><content type='html'>Netflix is one of those funny things. Once you have it, it's hard to live without. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Unfortunately, sometimes you come across a really boring movie. And being who I am, I can't just quit. I have to watch it ALL the way through.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, it has been a very boring last few weeks as I've tried to trudge through the movie "Deeply."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Seriously, don't watch it. Don't even &lt;i&gt;start&lt;/i&gt; watching it. It's SUPER boring.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I would explain the plot to you, but you'd probably just fall asleep. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ubTJpLDTWHs/TgjpKfG-d5I/AAAAAAAABOs/OJmFjr8ox2Q/s1600/deeply.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 178px; height: 266px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ubTJpLDTWHs/TgjpKfG-d5I/AAAAAAAABOs/OJmFjr8ox2Q/s320/deeply.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623000501130786706" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-5858856418859720698?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/5858856418859720698/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=5858856418859720698' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/5858856418859720698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/5858856418859720698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/06/deeply-sleeping.html' title='Deeply... Sleeping'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ubTJpLDTWHs/TgjpKfG-d5I/AAAAAAAABOs/OJmFjr8ox2Q/s72-c/deeply.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-390507115958100778</id><published>2011-06-24T07:09:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-24T07:16:27.386-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Burglar or Custodian?</title><content type='html'>Every time the custodians come around and clean the door knobs in the mornings, I always think it sounds like someone is trying to break in.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's a little scary, and it sure is a good thing that I don't have a gun, but at least I will always recognize the sound of someone trying to break into my house.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;...Unless I think that the burglar is just cleaning my door knob.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That could be dangerous. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zAhPQgiUFFQ/TgSN3de7L7I/AAAAAAAABOk/bFdA-phc9xo/s1600/burglar.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zAhPQgiUFFQ/TgSN3de7L7I/AAAAAAAABOk/bFdA-phc9xo/s320/burglar.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621774218811879346" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;Courtesy of Google&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-390507115958100778?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/390507115958100778/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=390507115958100778' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/390507115958100778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/390507115958100778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/06/burglar-or-custodian.html' title='Burglar or Custodian?'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zAhPQgiUFFQ/TgSN3de7L7I/AAAAAAAABOk/bFdA-phc9xo/s72-c/burglar.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-6490788925084745508</id><published>2011-06-23T07:58:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-23T08:44:31.878-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Hottest Guy in High School</title><content type='html'>I pegged him as the hottest guy at my school in seventh grade while flipping through the year book.&lt;div&gt;Brown hair. Green eyes. Perfect jaw-line.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I caught a glimps of him in eighth grade while working on the yearbook staff. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;His name was Kent Stewart. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hardly saw him, and never even talked to him until we had a class (geometry) together our sophomore year of high school. I sat with him and his friends, and we soon became friends. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The more I got to know him, the more I was convinced that he &lt;i&gt;was&lt;/i&gt; the hottest guy in my high school. Probably the hottest guy in Conyers... or Georgia, as far as I was concerned. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Did I think he was cute?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Did I have a crush on him?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Of course.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Did I want to date him?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't think so. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't know if that makes any sense, but it totally does.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Regardless, sophomore year came and went. We took AP History together our junior year and senior year blurred by. His mom owned a club, and he invited me to a few parties, none of which I think I ever went to.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Fast forward a few years. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;About a year and a half ago we became friends on Facebook and started messaging each other. I was surprised that he still wanted to talk. We didn't even have much in common. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Fast forward again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Last night, I was going through some of my old messages on Facebook, deleting whatever clutter I found. Then I came across it. Kent sent me a final message. A personalized congrats on getting married.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Some people will always make you grin.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As for now, I'm married to a guy with brown hair, green eyes and a perfect jaw-line. But even better, we've shared wonderful memories and I get giddy thinking about what else we'll share in the future.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A toast to the old. A laugh and a smile to the new.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-6490788925084745508?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/6490788925084745508/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=6490788925084745508' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/6490788925084745508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/6490788925084745508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/06/hottest-guy-in-high-school.html' title='The Hottest Guy in High School'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-378426527405801925</id><published>2011-06-17T07:48:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-17T07:50:23.347-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Seriously???</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6AgZQrjqMKc/TftbaDMBbOI/AAAAAAAABOU/CYwEkk5Pbzg/s1600/IMG_4140.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6AgZQrjqMKc/TftbaDMBbOI/AAAAAAAABOU/CYwEkk5Pbzg/s320/IMG_4140.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5619185463165283554" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5n1aw7eINqA/Tftbad1Cf2I/AAAAAAAABOc/jQqq9Ign3xc/s1600/IMG_4141.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5n1aw7eINqA/Tftbad1Cf2I/AAAAAAAABOc/jQqq9Ign3xc/s320/IMG_4141.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5619185470316642146" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Are you kidding me???&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-378426527405801925?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/378426527405801925/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=378426527405801925' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/378426527405801925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/378426527405801925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/06/seriously.html' title='Seriously???'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6AgZQrjqMKc/TftbaDMBbOI/AAAAAAAABOU/CYwEkk5Pbzg/s72-c/IMG_4140.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-7933262680033895947</id><published>2011-06-14T14:59:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-14T15:05:12.987-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Hiccups</title><content type='html'>Hiccups are kind of like a curse. We all try to find the best antidote, but half of them sound silly. We probably would have been considered witches during the Salem Witch Trials.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today I got the hiccups at work, and that's never good. I have to talk to people a lot, and it's especially weird on the phone. I apologized to the guy I was talking to and informed him that I had hiccups.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Some interesting methods I've heard to get rid of hiccups:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. Look at a light for a really long time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Hold your breath and poke your right eye.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Hold your breath and hop around on your left leg.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. Drink water upside down. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One that works for me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hold your breath and count backwards from 100.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-7933262680033895947?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/7933262680033895947/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=7933262680033895947' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/7933262680033895947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/7933262680033895947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/06/hiccups.html' title='Hiccups'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-5595298968699021747</id><published>2011-06-10T13:40:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-10T13:56:24.858-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Party Like I'm Awesome!</title><content type='html'>I am a HUGE birthday fan. I wouldn't be surprised if my purpose in life was to celebrate birthdays.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Most people think that it comes from family tradition, but maybe it's from my &lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;lack&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt; of family birthday tradition. In our family, it's not a surprise if you don't have cake and ice cream and &lt;i&gt;no one&lt;/i&gt; is ever bound to get presents. On occasion, you might be able to bribe someone to do your chores for you. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Because of this, growing up, I always planned my own birthday parties and then let my parents in on the know. I was always the only person in my family to have a birthday party every year. Probably ever, come to think about it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But I LOVE birthdays. I start planning Jaren's birthday a month before it happens, and well... I start planning my birthday like &lt;i&gt;three&lt;/i&gt; months ahead. I always bring treats to work on my co-workers' birthdays. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So my birthday is less than a month away. I think I have almost everything covered. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Work off? Check.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Day time activity? Check.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lunch? Check.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Evening plans? Check.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;All I need to figure out now is where to go for dinner and how I want to design my birthday cake. Woohoo!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-5595298968699021747?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/5595298968699021747/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=5595298968699021747' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/5595298968699021747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/5595298968699021747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/06/party-like-im-awesome.html' title='Party Like I&apos;m Awesome!'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-3220141064596422936</id><published>2011-06-01T14:23:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-01T14:34:25.436-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Are We Complaining Friends?</title><content type='html'>A while ago, Jaren was teasing me and told me that the best way to get along with people is to complain.&lt;div&gt;I thought about that for a while. I mean, could it really be true?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Does everyone love a complainer? Does that make people like you?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, on our way home from Florida, there were a lot of plane delays and I thought once more about Jaren's comment. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was standing in line, waiting to get my plane rescheduled, and there was a lady standing next to me. I knew she wanted to talk to me. (It's hard to explain. Sometimes you can just tell when someone wants to talk to you.) So after a little while, I finally turned to her and started the experiment:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I complained.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I complained about the plane being late.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She rambled for the next 30 minutes complaining about the said airlines. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Only&lt;/i&gt; 30 minutes because we reached the counter then. I went and sat back next to Jaren.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Throughout the rest of the 9 hours of traveling, I saw the woman quite often. Each time we either smiled and weaved, or she threw another complaint my way.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I guess Jaren was right. People do like to complain. And they like someone to sympathize with them. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Kind of disappointing, but I guess I now know the secret to friendship...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What is this world coming to? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-3220141064596422936?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/3220141064596422936/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=3220141064596422936' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/3220141064596422936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/3220141064596422936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/06/are-we-complaining-friends.html' title='Are We Complaining Friends?'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-8242977725001896171</id><published>2011-05-31T16:51:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-05-31T17:01:57.954-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Married And Still Living</title><content type='html'>The people that I work with are pretty funny. You're naughty and daring if you watch rated R movies and we quickly skip through the scantily clad women on the "&lt;a href="http://www.askmen.com/specials/top_99_women/"&gt;Top 99 Most Desirable Women of 2011&lt;/a&gt;."&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Regardless, our conversations can be quite hilarious and scandalous if you didn't know us. And maybe more if you do ;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yesterday I announced to my co-workers that my husband is going out of town for a few days. I was looking for what I should do while he is gone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It started out innocent:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"You should miss him." (Mind you, I was the only girl in the office.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"You should think about him and call him."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I tried to get them to branch out a little bit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Of course I'm going to miss him, but I'm looking for something &lt;i&gt;more&lt;/i&gt;. Like I'm going to actually go to the Tuesday Taco night with you guys tomorrow!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then the ideas started flowing:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"You should host a party!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"How about a road trip?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Let's go party hopping!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and my favorite...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"How about an affair! Oh! With one of your neighbors!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As tempting as that sounds, I don't know if I'd feel comfortable knocking on people's doors, looking for a partner...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Hey! Is Joyce out of town? How about a sleep over?!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yeah... I don't think so...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-8242977725001896171?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/8242977725001896171/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=8242977725001896171' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/8242977725001896171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/8242977725001896171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/05/married-and-still-living.html' title='Married And Still Living'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-1050025100256083978</id><published>2011-05-18T14:47:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-05-18T15:07:38.200-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Land Before Time</title><content type='html'>There are a lot of college-aged men where I work. So, before I got married, it wasn't very uncommon for guys to come into my office and have a little flirt session. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I mean, I even married someone who I worked with. It happens.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, after I got married, things slowed down a little bit. People notice that shiny thing on my finger, mostly because in Provo, you learn to do the ring check. The girl who looks fourteen and the boy who smiles and laughs at everything you say are probably married. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So as ring checks go, the street light in front of my desk turned red and the traffic slowed down. No one has asked me on a single date or flirted with me for longer than five seconds. Literally. (Unless you count the flirty, married men who just are like that. You know what kind of guys I'm talking about.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;With this in mind, yesterday was the first day in a LONG time that someone shamelessly walked into my office and flirted with me. The conversation went something like this:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Guy:&lt;/b&gt;  "Do you guys have our setup for tonight?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me: &lt;/b&gt;"If you're talking about the 8 p.m. setup in D-100, then yes we do."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Guy:&lt;/b&gt; "Wow, you're really on top of things. I've noticed you in here, but I've never had the time to come and stop by and introduce myself."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me: &lt;/b&gt;"Oh?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Guy:&lt;/b&gt; "I'm __(I forgot)__. What's your name?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; "Elisabeth."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Guy:&lt;/b&gt; "So since I've seen you around here a lot, I take it you've worked here for a while."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; "Yup."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Guy:&lt;/b&gt; "You're so great; I'd like to say hi more often. What shifts do you work?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; "Well... our shifts change a lot and I typically come in when I want, so I can't tell you that."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, this post is for you, Mr. Guy. Get a clue and start the ring check. I don't know how to make it more obvious.... I guess I could have said, "I typically come in after I drop my husband off at his job; basically my schedule revolves around him. Oh, and &lt;i&gt;my life&lt;/i&gt;."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But because you were so nice about it, and I'm a little flattered, the next time you come in I'll give you my husband's number. He might actually let me go out with you. Free food and a few hours to himself. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-1050025100256083978?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/1050025100256083978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=1050025100256083978' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/1050025100256083978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/1050025100256083978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/05/land-before-time.html' title='Land Before Time'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-3576525086227872610</id><published>2011-05-16T13:50:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-05-16T13:57:47.316-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Water, Water Everywhere</title><content type='html'>I think my body has a problem holding water. &lt;div&gt;I drink less than one water bottle a day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QtSdyKrV_8M/TdGBnrd4AFI/AAAAAAAABOI/5v6_7Y_WEUc/s1600/water.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 147px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QtSdyKrV_8M/TdGBnrd4AFI/AAAAAAAABOI/5v6_7Y_WEUc/s320/water.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607405529735888978" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Once, I tried to down one of those mini-water bottles. You know what I'm talking about, right?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I ran to the bathroom right afterwards and had to throw up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You're probably thinking that I'm not very healthy. Every once in a while I read those studies that say you should have at least eight cups of water a day, etc. Well, I try.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I finished a whole water bottle at work today. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I also went to the restroom every hour to relieve myself. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That's when I wonder where all the water is coming from. Does my body release more water than I take in?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In that case, maybe I should stop drinking water so I can keep as much of it as I can.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Please excuse me. I must go relieve myself... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-3576525086227872610?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/3576525086227872610/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=3576525086227872610' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/3576525086227872610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/3576525086227872610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/05/water-water-everywhere.html' title='Water, Water Everywhere'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QtSdyKrV_8M/TdGBnrd4AFI/AAAAAAAABOI/5v6_7Y_WEUc/s72-c/water.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-7013843898718597845</id><published>2011-05-14T20:17:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-05-14T20:18:49.245-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Annoyed Like No Other</title><content type='html'>So, I'm a little annoyed. Probably more than a little. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Somehow, Blogger erased all the comments in like three of my posts. The comments of two posts on this page and a post on my other page.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyone else have this problem?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ugh.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-7013843898718597845?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/7013843898718597845/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=7013843898718597845' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/7013843898718597845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/7013843898718597845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/05/annoyed-like-no-other.html' title='Annoyed Like No Other'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-7125690122376560078</id><published>2011-05-12T12:40:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-05-13T14:37:12.359-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Consuming Vegetables</title><content type='html'>Today was awesome. One of my friends at work ate an edamame... pod and everything. &lt;div&gt;He described the feeling as "something hairy in his throat."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cxQwSunDAJA/TcwqJeEEZiI/AAAAAAAABOA/5jkDEDuPdk0/s1600/edamame.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cxQwSunDAJA/TcwqJeEEZiI/AAAAAAAABOA/5jkDEDuPdk0/s320/edamame.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5605901978346743330" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Personally, I think he swallowed a little mammal. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But I learned a lesson. I shouldn't assume people know how to eat vegetables.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I would hate to see him eat a ear of corn for the first time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Gross.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-7125690122376560078?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/7125690122376560078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=7125690122376560078' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/7125690122376560078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/7125690122376560078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/05/consuming-vegetables.html' title='Consuming Vegetables'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cxQwSunDAJA/TcwqJeEEZiI/AAAAAAAABOA/5jkDEDuPdk0/s72-c/edamame.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-8095181815328037030</id><published>2011-05-11T18:22:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-05-13T14:37:13.114-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Imagine All the People</title><content type='html'>I'm really excited for the sun to come out. Then I don't think it will be so hard to convince myself to go running.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Only problem -- the sun can't seem to make up its mind in Utah. The last four days have been rainy. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Not to mention I've worked 10-hour days the last three days.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today I learned that one of my friends has hypothyroidism. That means her hormones are all messed up and she can't loose weight without taking pills and doing twice as much work. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But she's also one of the happiest people I know. And by happy I mean amazing. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is to all of the amazing people out there who deal with difficulties with a smile on your face. I respect you so much. You guys are awesome. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-8095181815328037030?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/8095181815328037030/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=8095181815328037030' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/8095181815328037030'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/8095181815328037030'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/05/imagine-all-people.html' title='Imagine All the People'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-6235978219357203418</id><published>2011-05-09T10:22:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2011-05-09T10:54:41.892-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Recent Movies</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Last two movies I watched:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I just watched the original Batman movie from the 1960s for the first time yesterday.&lt;div&gt;It was pretty hilarious. My favorite part was probably the rubber shark.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;OR.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Maybe the one liners. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;BUT PROBABLY.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The ridiculous mustache that was painted over on the Joker's face.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JFSe1s-fzzg/Tcgbhjna2xI/AAAAAAAABN4/i-y-cr_dqqk/s1600/Batman1966.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 212px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JFSe1s-fzzg/Tcgbhjna2xI/AAAAAAAABN4/i-y-cr_dqqk/s320/Batman1966.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604759999572794130" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We watched Mr. and Mrs. Smith again. I remember it being a SUPER good movie. Top ten maybe.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But when I watched it this time, I had no desire to watch it again. Kinda boring. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wonder if my taste in movies have changed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Or humor?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I didn't even think Brad Pitt was very hot.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JejlhFF2Wdg/TcgbhmoffLI/AAAAAAAABNw/_2Bz6Hp_2FE/s1600/mr%2Band%2Bmrs.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 232px; height: 156px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JejlhFF2Wdg/TcgbhmoffLI/AAAAAAAABNw/_2Bz6Hp_2FE/s320/mr%2Band%2Bmrs.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604760000382598322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Two movies we will probably watch:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The trailers for Thor made me not want to watch it. It looks kind of stupid. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;BUT, after hearing that it's getting the same reviews as Iron Man and Dark Knight (which, btw, Dark Knight is way better than Iron Man), and with a final saying from our friends The Browns, I'm sure we're going to see it this week.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Natalie Portman is in it, but I don't feel like I can give her very much credit anymore. (Have you seen The Other Boleyn Girl or Where the Heart Is?)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You better at least live up to the trailer.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aMiPZizeDrg/TcgbhbwtNZI/AAAAAAAABNo/JmVN3HVEoNk/s1600/thor.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 259px; height: 194px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aMiPZizeDrg/TcgbhbwtNZI/AAAAAAAABNo/JmVN3HVEoNk/s320/thor.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604759997464262034" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm not excited at all about Fast and Furious 5. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't like Paul Walker. At all. The white-trash look that he and Channing Tatum give off aren't even slightly attractive. But at least Tatum can act. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The over revealing girls don't turn me on either. Are they supposed to?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have to remember that the targeted audience is not me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Granted, because of one of my an ex-bf, I've watched 1-3 and Jaren and I saw 4 to support a friend. But something tells me we will be watching 5. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Fate maybe. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Or just because there's nothing better to watch right now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IsSMa3HqLHA/TcgbhNBjk3I/AAAAAAAABNg/PuYrSsXkIlw/s1600/fast_and_furious_5_fast_five-535x356.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IsSMa3HqLHA/TcgbhNBjk3I/AAAAAAAABNg/PuYrSsXkIlw/s320/fast_and_furious_5_fast_five-535x356.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604759993508402034" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-6235978219357203418?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/6235978219357203418/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=6235978219357203418' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/6235978219357203418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/6235978219357203418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/05/recent-movies.html' title='Recent Movies'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JFSe1s-fzzg/Tcgbhjna2xI/AAAAAAAABN4/i-y-cr_dqqk/s72-c/Batman1966.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-8069098033838571535</id><published>2011-05-02T13:06:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-05-02T13:26:52.016-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Our Feathered Bedding</title><content type='html'>What is that saying?&lt;div&gt;"Birds of the same feather flock together."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't really know about the proverb. It sounds kinda fishy. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But recently, well... in the last 9 months, Jaren and I have really discovered what that means.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zRLc6yejCkA/Tb8FK1lLfiI/AAAAAAAABNY/rW0yf6ZQXVg/s1600/feather.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zRLc6yejCkA/Tb8FK1lLfiI/AAAAAAAABNY/rW0yf6ZQXVg/s320/feather.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602202145212038690" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You probably can't see it very well, but that's a feather in my hair.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If you inspect the two of us, you will probably find them all over.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I swear we aren't turning into birds. It's our down comforter. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But if the next time you see me I start to chirp or I have a beak, you know why.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-8069098033838571535?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/8069098033838571535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=8069098033838571535' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/8069098033838571535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/8069098033838571535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/05/our-feathered-bedding.html' title='Our Feathered Bedding'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zRLc6yejCkA/Tb8FK1lLfiI/AAAAAAAABNY/rW0yf6ZQXVg/s72-c/feather.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-8214608248074826480</id><published>2011-04-25T13:15:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-04-25T13:22:33.557-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My Kinda Game</title><content type='html'>I don't know if any of you guys have ever played speed scrabble, but it's probably one of the most classic games ever. &lt;div&gt;Like ever.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XQnu41mr4Nc/TbXJxIj-icI/AAAAAAAABNQ/jT4xLinJKy0/s1600/scrabble.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 259px; height: 194px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XQnu41mr4Nc/TbXJxIj-icI/AAAAAAAABNQ/jT4xLinJKy0/s320/scrabble.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599603557654235586" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;History:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Learned it summer 2007 from the Duffins&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Became addicted to it summer 2008 with my friend Jewelyn&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Forgot about it until beginning of summer 2011&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Played it again for the second time during summer 2011 on April 23&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If you've never played it, you should &lt;a href="http://www.wikihow.com/Play-Speed-Scrabble"&gt;learn how&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Important point -- you don't even have to like Scrabble to like speed scrabble. Trust me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;P.S. I'm pretty awesome at it. But I'm always up for a challenge :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-8214608248074826480?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/8214608248074826480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=8214608248074826480' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/8214608248074826480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/8214608248074826480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/04/my-kinda-game.html' title='My Kinda Game'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XQnu41mr4Nc/TbXJxIj-icI/AAAAAAAABNQ/jT4xLinJKy0/s72-c/scrabble.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-5646957231308645692</id><published>2011-04-20T15:57:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-04-20T16:06:01.653-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Book of Scrubs</title><content type='html'>I watch Scrubs. I like it. I like the humor. I like the relationship stuff. I like the setting.&lt;div&gt;But mostly I like the messages they have at the end. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In an episode I watched today, it ended with this note:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Bottom line, a couple that's truly right for each other wade through the same crap as everyone else, but the big difference is, they don't let it take them down. One of those two people will stand up and fight for that relationship every time... if it's right. And they are real lucky. One of them will say something."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I thought about it for a little while and I decided it was true. Everyone has misunderstandings and disagreements, but if you want to be with someone, it's up to you to be the one to say something. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So say something. You don't have to always be the one to say it, but know that you're part of it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;How often do you really get to say that you're truly right for someone?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Once. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-5646957231308645692?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/5646957231308645692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=5646957231308645692' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/5646957231308645692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/5646957231308645692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/04/book-of-scrubs.html' title='The Book of Scrubs'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-2521630835991024385</id><published>2011-04-16T18:09:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-04-16T18:18:15.649-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Love Coupons, But Not Coupon Ladies</title><content type='html'>Today I hated the coupon lady. &lt;div&gt;Not the lady that gives out coupons; the lady that makes you stand in line an extra 20 minutes at the grocery store because her coupons aren't normal.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sure, I use coupons here and there. I use like 3 or 4 at a time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This lady had a bundle. I guess she didn't have the time to sort them in advance? An ice age later the store clerk is trying to match up the coupons with the item. Come the millennium, and suddenly the lady finds more coupons of the oddest shapes and sizes in her purse.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was SO tempted to snap a picture of her as I sat there for years with nothing to do. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I read the name of every candy bar and gum pack three times. I even started to look at other people's carts to determine what type of people they are. (I always feel funny when I'm getting ice cream and a bunch of treats for a party because I know everyone's looking in my cart -- probably wishing they were me -- but judging me all the same.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So in the end, the coupon lady leaves, having saved probably a total of a million dollars and waisting 20 minutes of my life. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Wow. I guess I put a high price on my time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I must be important. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-2521630835991024385?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/2521630835991024385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=2521630835991024385' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/2521630835991024385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/2521630835991024385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/04/i-love-coupons-but-not-coupon-ladies.html' title='I Love Coupons, But Not Coupon Ladies'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-7017487433689138006</id><published>2011-04-14T19:58:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2011-04-14T20:10:11.949-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Planning Is Overrated</title><content type='html'>So I decided to end the dry spell because my finals themselves are actually quite easy.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What I gathered everyone together today to talk about is wedding planning. NOT.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today, like quite a few days in the past few months, my mom has called me with a friend that she wants me to talk to. Not just to chat with and meet (she does that too), but to have me help them plan their wedding reception. Yes -- she has turned me into a wedding planner. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vSH7jbgwKSE/TaeoOn_KI0I/AAAAAAAABNI/tN-mE0Sykks/s1600/wedding%2Bplanner" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 183px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vSH7jbgwKSE/TaeoOn_KI0I/AAAAAAAABNI/tN-mE0Sykks/s320/wedding%2Bplanner" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595626031236653890" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I guess you can say that part of my major is to plan events, but not weddings. Sure, I've planned a reception once, but it was mine. And it was cheap. And it was simple. And I liked it. But now I guess I'm an expert. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today I spent around 20 minutes discussing with my mom's coworker: centerpieces, table and chair color coordination, and venue arrangement. Did I mention that I have no clue what the venue even looks like?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But then again I started to think 20 minutes... In the real world, I would probably be getting paid at least $20 for those 20 minutes. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh gosh -- how does my mom even find these people? She doesn't even live in Utah. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-7017487433689138006?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/7017487433689138006/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=7017487433689138006' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/7017487433689138006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/7017487433689138006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/04/planning-is-overrated.html' title='Planning Is Overrated'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vSH7jbgwKSE/TaeoOn_KI0I/AAAAAAAABNI/tN-mE0Sykks/s72-c/wedding%2Bplanner' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-171765381014081740</id><published>2011-03-14T13:48:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-14T14:19:09.078-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Qualify as a One of the Mean Girls</title><content type='html'>There's a girl I hate in two of my classes.&lt;div&gt;Well... not hate, but very much dislike. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She wears high-waters.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That's not why I hate her. Oops, sorry, strongly dislike her. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's mostly because she's annoying. She repeats everything the teacher says, comments on EVERYTHING and questions everything.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh, and she has to let everyone know that she's ahead on her homework. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She has this annoying way of letting everyone know that she understands the teacher's instructions. She ALWAYS says, "Oh, I see." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This girl got engaged on Valentine's Day. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cheesy. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I mean, if you got engaged on Valentine's Day, it was probably cute, but I'm sure hers was cheesy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I try very hard not to make it blatantly obvious to her that I dislike her...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After all, maybe she's helping other people when she clarifies and comments on everything. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And when she asks questions.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And when she she talks.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And when she breathes. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Someone loves her.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Someone loves me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We have something in common. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So if you now label me as one of the mean girls from Mean Girls, I want to be Gretchen. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Please.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0A6vk7QQ0I0/TX53-s0zsPI/AAAAAAAABNA/99m-LRdhDxc/s1600/meagirls"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 222px; height: 227px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0A6vk7QQ0I0/TX53-s0zsPI/AAAAAAAABNA/99m-LRdhDxc/s320/meagirls" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584032507054239986" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-171765381014081740?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/171765381014081740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=171765381014081740' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/171765381014081740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/171765381014081740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-qualify-as-one-of-mean-girls.html' title='I Qualify as a One of the Mean Girls'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0A6vk7QQ0I0/TX53-s0zsPI/AAAAAAAABNA/99m-LRdhDxc/s72-c/meagirls' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-4809830841854992958</id><published>2011-03-13T16:35:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-13T16:40:10.082-06:00</updated><title type='text'>GloZell's Plan to Get Famous</title><content type='html'>I just waisted 45 minutes of my life.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was watching YouTube videos by someone named GloZell. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She sits there and just makes fun of everyone's lyrics.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;While everyone makes fun of her -- because she's ridiculous. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I feel stupider having watched these:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OOYMU15bjlA"&gt;Tick Tock&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v5DBHJJ6YDM&amp;amp;feature=related"&gt;Whip My Hair&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XD_W7zoBqTA&amp;amp;feature=relmfu"&gt;Just the Way You Are&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-4809830841854992958?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/4809830841854992958/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=4809830841854992958' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/4809830841854992958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/4809830841854992958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/03/glozells-plan-to-get-famous.html' title='GloZell&apos;s Plan to Get Famous'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-4471755982255758755</id><published>2011-03-10T12:46:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-10T13:13:26.585-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Organic Clothes by Emma Watson</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Emma Watson, the Harry Potter star, opened her fashion line on Feb. 28. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Emma Watson 2011 People Tree Collection.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VwwgySSKJkQ/TXkv97AU7EI/AAAAAAAABMw/2glTPMFP0SQ/s1600/emma.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 251px; height: 201px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VwwgySSKJkQ/TXkv97AU7EI/AAAAAAAABMw/2glTPMFP0SQ/s320/emma.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5582545953960029250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think she's adorable.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lvmT4Xt1hgI/TXkwZFMt1vI/AAAAAAAABM4/O2uIFpW_i9I/s1600/emma2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 234px; height: 216px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lvmT4Xt1hgI/TXkwZFMt1vI/AAAAAAAABM4/O2uIFpW_i9I/s320/emma2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5582546420552816370" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But interestingly, her fashion line is completely made of fair-trade and organic materials. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Fair Trade USA website says, "With the Fair Trade Certified label, you get quality products that improve lives and protect the planet."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm glad her clothes protect the planet. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But in reality, her clothes are actually pretty cute. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And she's one of the few people I think look good with short hair. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.trendhunter.com/trends/the-emma-watson-2011-people-tree-collection#!/photos/100711/3"&gt;http://www.trendhunter.com/trends/the-emma-watson-2011-people-tree-collection#!/photos/100711/3&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-4471755982255758755?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/4471755982255758755/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=4471755982255758755' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/4471755982255758755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/4471755982255758755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/03/organic-clothes-by-emma-watson.html' title='Organic Clothes by Emma Watson'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VwwgySSKJkQ/TXkv97AU7EI/AAAAAAAABMw/2glTPMFP0SQ/s72-c/emma.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-113253564629136993</id><published>2011-03-02T15:24:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-02T15:27:34.368-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Reward Systems</title><content type='html'>Some days I feel like I need to reward myself for:&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Waking up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Getting out of bed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Facing the atrocious Utah weather. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Basically for living life. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;10 bonus pts.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-113253564629136993?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/113253564629136993/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=113253564629136993' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/113253564629136993'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/113253564629136993'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/03/reward-systems.html' title='Reward Systems'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-8424689371553080425</id><published>2011-02-28T13:16:00.006-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-28T13:27:15.473-07:00</updated><title type='text'>3.14</title><content type='html'>My favorite pie is pecan pie.&lt;div&gt;If I were in a pie fight, it would probably be the last pie I would want shoved in my face.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nffut-Gu_pE/TWwDYdrQaJI/AAAAAAAABMI/SZhViF-D1b8/s1600/pecan%2Bpie"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 225px; height: 225px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nffut-Gu_pE/TWwDYdrQaJI/AAAAAAAABMI/SZhViF-D1b8/s320/pecan%2Bpie" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578837757223004306" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In such circumstances, I think I would want a banana cream pie. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It looks like the easiest to get off. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-o-XnLEy0Xpk/TWwDf7o2YBI/AAAAAAAABMQ/gbxOv5YNPws/s1600/banana.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 259px; height: 194px; " src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-o-XnLEy0Xpk/TWwDf7o2YBI/AAAAAAAABMQ/gbxOv5YNPws/s320/banana.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578837885525057554" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But if I were going to learn how to make the perfect pie, I would want someone to teach me how to make a key lime pie.&lt;br /&gt;Those are good and I've heard it's hard to make perfect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-D9l2nPRSbOM/TWwEFWJHeaI/AAAAAAAABMY/Z8DlztOD_gs/s1600/key%2Blime.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 276px; height: 183px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-D9l2nPRSbOM/TWwEFWJHeaI/AAAAAAAABMY/Z8DlztOD_gs/s320/key%2Blime.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578838528294877602" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, I feel though, that the best pie to give away is an apple pie because everyone likes apple pie.&lt;div&gt;Other than myself, of course.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nr1co_fYaFc/TWwEleOmxeI/AAAAAAAABMg/kHLEjmpoP0M/s1600/apple.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 263px; height: 192px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nr1co_fYaFc/TWwEleOmxeI/AAAAAAAABMg/kHLEjmpoP0M/s320/apple.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578839080221197794" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Regardless, the worst pie all time is the pumpkin pie.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sick.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3pePRhvOTIg/TWwE4PRlk7I/AAAAAAAABMo/xv8_39__GE8/s1600/pumpkin"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 259px; height: 194px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3pePRhvOTIg/TWwE4PRlk7I/AAAAAAAABMo/xv8_39__GE8/s320/pumpkin" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578839402624684978" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I admit -- overall, I'm not a huge fan of pie.&lt;br /&gt;Except, give me a pecan pie any day. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-8424689371553080425?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/8424689371553080425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=8424689371553080425' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/8424689371553080425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/8424689371553080425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/02/314.html' title='3.14'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nffut-Gu_pE/TWwDYdrQaJI/AAAAAAAABMI/SZhViF-D1b8/s72-c/pecan%2Bpie' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-32773419286934459</id><published>2011-02-23T15:33:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-23T15:48:27.519-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Full House</title><content type='html'>I really like the TV show Full House.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Remember?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uetopDaI88M/TWWOUnqE2MI/AAAAAAAABMA/agSrBZ25ouc/s1600/full2"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 182px; height: 277px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uetopDaI88M/TWWOUnqE2MI/AAAAAAAABMA/agSrBZ25ouc/s320/full2" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5577020198462216386" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And remember?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-E188q9DYJcQ/TWWOUZ3xnXI/AAAAAAAABL4/ED-hPp0VevU/s1600/full%2Bhouse"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 264px; height: 191px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-E188q9DYJcQ/TWWOUZ3xnXI/AAAAAAAABL4/ED-hPp0VevU/s320/full%2Bhouse" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5577020194761579890" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Every time I go to work out in our apartment complex gym room, I secretly hope that Full House is on. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But there is hardly anything on during the times that I go. My timing is impeccable. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here is the order of shows that I usually end up watching depending on when I go:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. Full House&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. House&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Scooby-Doo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. Tom &amp;amp; Jerry&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. The Ellen DeGeneres Show&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A little bit about my history and Full House:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I watched very little of it when I was little. We didn't have cable. We didn't watch TV.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In high school I got more into it because we would always go back to my friend Christina's house and when we were finding people to hang out with, we filled our time with Full House.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had a crush on John Stamos, but what girl didn't. I was stoked when he showed up on Glee. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the end, Full House wins because of the clean humor, good memories and all of our love for Bob Saget. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-32773419286934459?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/32773419286934459/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=32773419286934459' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/32773419286934459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/32773419286934459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/02/full-house.html' title='Full House'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uetopDaI88M/TWWOUnqE2MI/AAAAAAAABMA/agSrBZ25ouc/s72-c/full2' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-8433575932648967417</id><published>2011-02-22T12:54:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-22T13:05:08.731-07:00</updated><title type='text'>In Disguise</title><content type='html'>I never knew that hats made all the difference.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We woke up late this morning so I decided to wear a hat.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This one actually:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WSIRRMALt78/TWQWc75IRdI/AAAAAAAABLo/Wf53-NtQz-A/s320/hat.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576606924960974290" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A good friend of mine gave it to me a few years back. I was telling her that I don't look good in hats, but she pulled this one out of nowhere (actually, she got it in Korea) and we both decided it looked decent on me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Regardless, I was wearing the hat today, and these were the comments that ensued:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(in order of prevalence)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. We didn't even recognize you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Cute hat.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. You look like a gangster. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;About half the people who saw me today didn't recognize me at first glance.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now I understand how Cinderella wasn't recognized when she got dressed up for the ball.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Or better yet, Clark Kent with his glasses. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ls36XRyBnQM/TWQWsx4lrwI/AAAAAAAABLw/Up5y4w1ADvQ/s1600/clark%2Bkent.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 155px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ls36XRyBnQM/TWQWsx4lrwI/AAAAAAAABLw/Up5y4w1ADvQ/s320/clark%2Bkent.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576607197152259842" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-8433575932648967417?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/8433575932648967417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=8433575932648967417' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/8433575932648967417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/8433575932648967417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/02/in-disguise.html' title='In Disguise'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WSIRRMALt78/TWQWc75IRdI/AAAAAAAABLo/Wf53-NtQz-A/s72-c/hat.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-5496478517754076101</id><published>2011-02-21T09:15:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-21T09:22:47.339-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Uniforms</title><content type='html'>In Junior High School I wore school uniforms. &lt;div&gt;Dark blue bottoms, white shirt, white shoes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b7TvroTu4Q8/TWKQ8cTXq4I/AAAAAAAABLg/eJJA227LGaU/s1600/uniform.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b7TvroTu4Q8/TWKQ8cTXq4I/AAAAAAAABLg/eJJA227LGaU/s320/uniform.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576178656702081922" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I used to think people supported wearing uniforms because it meant that all of the kids dressed the same and no one gets made fun of for dressing different. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But I was wrong.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Even when you have uniforms, some kids still have hand-me-downs while others have new clothes. Some kids got their clothes from WalMart while others shopped at name brand places. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm not really sure what was so great about uniforms.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nobody looks great in them. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-5496478517754076101?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/5496478517754076101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=5496478517754076101' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/5496478517754076101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/5496478517754076101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/02/uniforms.html' title='Uniforms'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b7TvroTu4Q8/TWKQ8cTXq4I/AAAAAAAABLg/eJJA227LGaU/s72-c/uniform.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-8088502884700812396</id><published>2011-02-18T11:15:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-18T11:27:17.884-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Working It Out</title><content type='html'>I remember back in the day when I used to practice with Salem High's girls basketball team.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--UXJHm-N65Q/TV65XzS7Q0I/AAAAAAAABLY/ExXe6gRAU3o/s1600/girls%2Bbasketball"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 276px; height: 183px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--UXJHm-N65Q/TV65XzS7Q0I/AAAAAAAABLY/ExXe6gRAU3o/s320/girls%2Bbasketball" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5575097207288972098" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ok, so it wasn't that long ago, but it was back in the summer of 2003. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There are a few things that I remember distinctly, like playing against other teams during basketball camp, being the girl on the team with the shortest shorts and always coming in last at suicides. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But the thing that I always thought was SO funny was the day we learned weight lifting. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Coach Seagull decided that we should be well rounded so three times a week we were required to do weight training. But first, we had to learn how to use all of the fancy weight lifting equipment. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. She always started demonstrations with the girl who could lift the least and end with the girl who could lift the most.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. I always went first.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. She always still had to remove weights for me.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You could say that I was everyone's little sister. After all, I wasn't even 100 lbs at that point.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now, I'm not the weakest girl in the school... in fact, I bet I can actually bench press the bar!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-8088502884700812396?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/8088502884700812396/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=8088502884700812396' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/8088502884700812396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/8088502884700812396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/02/working-it-out.html' title='Working It Out'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--UXJHm-N65Q/TV65XzS7Q0I/AAAAAAAABLY/ExXe6gRAU3o/s72-c/girls%2Bbasketball' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-8650107414680257625</id><published>2011-02-15T13:54:00.008-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-16T15:52:27.302-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How To Make California Rolls</title><content type='html'>Okay, so I know it's after Valentine's Day, but who doesn't love California Rolls at any time of the year. I was making some rolls and other sushi for Jaren, so I thought I would include a step-by-step with pictures for those who are interested!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;First note, my sushi rice tastes less strong than &lt;a href="http://japanesefood.about.com/od/sushiforbeginner/r/sushirice.htm"&gt;other&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.mahalo.com/how-to-make-perfect-sushi-rice"&gt;people's&lt;/a&gt; methods because I don't like a lot of vinegar, but here it goes!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;FOR THE RICE&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- 2-4 cups already made still hot sushi rice (any medium or short asian rice)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For every 2 cups rice:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- 1 Tbs rice vinegar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- 1 Tbs sugar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- 1/2 Tbs water&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;While the rice is still hot, pour rice vinegar, sugar and water over rice and fold.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CPgBFHL4EWU/TVrsAe538lI/AAAAAAAABKw/jmApOCn69fA/s1600/IMG_3896.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CPgBFHL4EWU/TVrsAe538lI/AAAAAAAABKw/jmApOCn69fA/s320/IMG_3896.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574026981864370770" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;UTENSILS&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Bamboo or wooden mat&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Plastic wrap&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;OTHER INGREDIENTS&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- 1 cup shredded imitation crab&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Approx. 1 Tbs mayonnaise (maybe more)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- 1/4 Tsp soy sauce&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Cut up cucumbers in strips&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Cut up avocados in strips&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Toasted sesame seeds&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- 2/3 sheets of seaweed wrap (nori)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;DIRECTIONS&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- While rice is cooling, mix shredded imitation crab with mayonnaise and soy sauce.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Cq7CqepMp2E/TVrsO0ODEpI/AAAAAAAABK4/gxZ4Tqz3uxI/s1600/IMG_3895.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Cq7CqepMp2E/TVrsO0ODEpI/AAAAAAAABK4/gxZ4Tqz3uxI/s320/IMG_3895.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574027228104299154" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Once rice is cool, place plastic wrap over bamboo mat and put seaweed wrap on top. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Spread rice over half of seaweed. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kpihH-5S7Fc/TVrskOUX4iI/AAAAAAAABLI/rmD5uMjPz5w/s1600/IMG_3894.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kpihH-5S7Fc/TVrskOUX4iI/AAAAAAAABLI/rmD5uMjPz5w/s320/IMG_3894.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574027595887403554" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Then, flip seaweed over with the half with rice being the furthest away from you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- On seaweed, line avocado, imitation crab mix and cucumber parallel to the bottom of the seaweed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TgCsM0Ygdws/TVrsPTY1sVI/AAAAAAAABLA/KNBEImc9_Hs/s1600/IMG_3897.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TgCsM0Ygdws/TVrsPTY1sVI/AAAAAAAABLA/KNBEImc9_Hs/s320/IMG_3897.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574027236471058770" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Then start rolling! Be sure to roll tightly or else everything will fall out or apart. Also, keep pulling the plastic back or else you might end up eating it :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Cut up about an inch apart and sprinkle sesame seeds on top. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_TjQH1NXftw/TVrsktHGoOI/AAAAAAAABLQ/Qf5gV_kHv8A/s1600/IMG_3893.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_TjQH1NXftw/TVrsktHGoOI/AAAAAAAABLQ/Qf5gV_kHv8A/s320/IMG_3893.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574027604153245922" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Serve!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-8650107414680257625?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/8650107414680257625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=8650107414680257625' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/8650107414680257625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/8650107414680257625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/02/how-to-make-california-rolls.html' title='How To Make California Rolls'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CPgBFHL4EWU/TVrsAe538lI/AAAAAAAABKw/jmApOCn69fA/s72-c/IMG_3896.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-8120559763702662913</id><published>2011-02-12T13:47:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-12T13:56:25.293-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love is For Life</title><content type='html'>People seem to have strong opinions about Valentine's Day.&lt;div&gt;They either HATE it or LOVE it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here are my opinions about why people &lt;i&gt;hate&lt;/i&gt; or &lt;i&gt;love&lt;/i&gt; it:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Hate Group:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;These girls are usually single. They hate Valentine's Day because they don't have a boyfriend or someone to share their love with. If they don't fall into that category and they still hate Valentine's Day, it's usually because they used to be in that category and for some reason they still think it's cool to hate it. That includes those married girls who hate it. Or maybe you ate Valentine's Day because you don't like chocolate. Or you're a guy. Lots of guys hate having to do something special. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Love Group:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;These girls have always had a boy for Valentine's Day or they are NORMAL! There is no reason to hate a holiday which is about love. LOVE is like the center of the universe. You don't have to have a freakin boyfriend or "significant other" in order to love Valentine's Day. You just have to love love. It's a beautiful thing people. Enjoy the only day of the year people seem to recognize it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So you probably can't guess what group I fall into. Let me give you a clue. I've had a boyfriend for Valentine's Day ever since I was 14... and this year I'm married. How much better can it get : )&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HeJycaERVpw/TVbzcGJ3vKI/AAAAAAAABKQ/m9KD9p6OVTw/s1600/IMG_3209.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HeJycaERVpw/TVbzcGJ3vKI/AAAAAAAABKQ/m9KD9p6OVTw/s320/IMG_3209.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572909252931468450" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-8120559763702662913?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/8120559763702662913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=8120559763702662913' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/8120559763702662913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/8120559763702662913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/02/love-is-for-life.html' title='Love is For Life'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HeJycaERVpw/TVbzcGJ3vKI/AAAAAAAABKQ/m9KD9p6OVTw/s72-c/IMG_3209.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-2124357155681850093</id><published>2011-02-09T16:04:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-09T16:07:43.537-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Ocean in Your Mouth</title><content type='html'>I am not a fan of Wendy's new fresh cut sea salt fries.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TVMeA3TxvvI/AAAAAAAABKI/R5s2llNa8Ok/s320/fries.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 192px; height: 262px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571830164183170802" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1) tastes WAY too salty&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2) far too long of a name&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dear Wendy's,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I used to love your fries. That's why we went to your place. Yesterday while I was at school, Jaren even picked McDonald over you. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Your Love Group Customer,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Elisabeth&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;P.S. That means please change your fries back!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-2124357155681850093?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/2124357155681850093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=2124357155681850093' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/2124357155681850093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/2124357155681850093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/02/ocean-in-your-mouth.html' title='The Ocean in Your Mouth'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TVMeA3TxvvI/AAAAAAAABKI/R5s2llNa8Ok/s72-c/fries.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-95716313954177424</id><published>2011-02-05T17:01:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-05T17:09:14.595-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Macey's v Smiths</title><content type='html'>I used to always shop at Smiths when I first moved to Utah because it was the closest grocery store to my apartment.&lt;div&gt;When Jaren and I moved in together, I went to Smiths, but Jaren informed me that Macey's was super close! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I started out going to Macey's, but I discovered that I'm a little bias toward Smiths:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Smiths doesn't remind me of a hardware store.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Smiths carries my favorite grapefruit juice and Macey's doesn't.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- I knocked over and broke a few Catholic Mary candles at Smiths yesterday and they didn't make me pay for them! They didn't even make it a big deal at all... they were basically like, "No big deal."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TU3mQAIbvuI/AAAAAAAABKA/koUGlEO0KOk/s1600/marycandle.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 183px; height: 275px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TU3mQAIbvuI/AAAAAAAABKA/koUGlEO0KOk/s320/marycandle.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570361476714839778" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So all you Macey's shoppers out there: I'M A SMITHS PERSON!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-95716313954177424?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/95716313954177424/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=95716313954177424' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/95716313954177424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/95716313954177424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/02/maceys-v-smiths.html' title='Macey&apos;s v Smiths'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TU3mQAIbvuI/AAAAAAAABKA/koUGlEO0KOk/s72-c/marycandle.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-7276312768817746903</id><published>2011-02-03T12:45:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-03T12:48:10.044-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Behind.</title><content type='html'>So sorry I've been a slacker at posting things recently... :(&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;School, work, church, family, etc.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Good news: The semester is almost 5 weeks through.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bad news: We don't have money for buying silly things right now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Good news: We used that money to get tickets for FLORIDA! (We're going in May.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-7276312768817746903?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/7276312768817746903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=7276312768817746903' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/7276312768817746903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/7276312768817746903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/02/behind.html' title='Behind.'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-6011887912385048336</id><published>2011-01-31T12:46:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-31T12:58:30.577-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Uncle Sam Wants You!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TUcT4sOWCAI/AAAAAAAABJ0/3wMo1lozhb8/s1600/careerfair1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 314px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TUcT4sOWCAI/AAAAAAAABJ0/3wMo1lozhb8/s320/careerfair1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568441328931833858" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For my student development class (yes... I know) we were given an opportunity to go to a career fair at BYU for extra credit.&lt;div&gt;I went with a new friend of mine from South America (and yes, I have friends... well, kinda). We walked around from booth to booth.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After a while I started to wonder what makes a business person look like a business person -- because the recruiters kept stopping me and asking me if I was a business major. They never asked my friend, just me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Maybe I still have a 'business major look' because I was going to major in business.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Regardless, we made it out of the career fair safely without too many questions and looks of longing for questions. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Outcome: 10 pts extra credit. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-6011887912385048336?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/6011887912385048336/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=6011887912385048336' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/6011887912385048336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/6011887912385048336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/01/uncle-sam-wants-you.html' title='Uncle Sam Wants You!'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TUcT4sOWCAI/AAAAAAAABJ0/3wMo1lozhb8/s72-c/careerfair1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-351846002125809061</id><published>2011-01-26T12:54:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-26T13:07:06.021-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You'll Hate Me When I'm Through</title><content type='html'>I admit that I have problems.&lt;div&gt;But my biggest problem is that I am SUPER picky about food.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Let me just start a list of foods I don't like:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;cheese (all)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;green peppers&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;cream cheese&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;beans (any kind)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;sour cream&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;tortillas&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;soda&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;pumpkin&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;... and that's just a start.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That ends up ruling out things like lasagna, enchiladas, or anything like that. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TUB-m-VfWfI/AAAAAAAABJs/tmGGceKJ5S0/s1600/drive%2Bthrough.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 225px; height: 225px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TUB-m-VfWfI/AAAAAAAABJs/tmGGceKJ5S0/s320/drive%2Bthrough.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566588347463195122" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So you can hate me for being the girl in the drive through that says, "Hold the cheese and tomatoes, light on the mayo, extra lettuce and not too much meat. Oh yeah, and lots of napkins."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-351846002125809061?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/351846002125809061/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=351846002125809061' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/351846002125809061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/351846002125809061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/01/youll-hate-me-when-im-through.html' title='You&apos;ll Hate Me When I&apos;m Through'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TUB-m-VfWfI/AAAAAAAABJs/tmGGceKJ5S0/s72-c/drive%2Bthrough.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-9193938478499416789</id><published>2011-01-25T14:39:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-25T14:43:56.115-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Do Us a Favor -- Log Out!</title><content type='html'>I am very particular about always logging out of stuff. I even log out of everything on my personal computer. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When Lynn and Cerise used to always borrow my laptop, I had two ground rules:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. I get first priority to it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Always log out of whatever you're using.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There is a fad at our work. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Whenever people leave their Facebook or e-mail open, you can use it to your own pleasure.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(ex. changing their birthday or relationship status, e-mailing themselves personal notes, etc.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What do I have to say about it?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't feel bad. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bring it on.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-9193938478499416789?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/9193938478499416789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=9193938478499416789' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/9193938478499416789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/9193938478499416789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/01/do-us-favor-log-out.html' title='Do Us a Favor -- Log Out!'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-394547143194982531</id><published>2011-01-23T15:25:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-23T15:35:01.056-07:00</updated><title type='text'>One Man's Trash Is Another Man's Treasure</title><content type='html'>I was late to a group meeting not because I left work late -- not because I had an extra project or because I was working on an inventory... it was because I couldn't find my pants.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;All I could remember was that after changing into my work clothes, I walked back into the office holding my pants. As soon as I walked in, I saw a very important man in our organization... and they were all turning toward me. I remember getting rid of the pants I had in my hands as soon as possible. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Where did I put them? I couldn't remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yeah, I got a lot of snide remarks from my co-workers. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Do you lose your pants often?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"I don't know if I want to be the one to find them."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;etc.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After literally 15 minutes of looking, I found them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the trash can.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TTys6Ua4o2I/AAAAAAAABJk/MabtfiYwHwI/s1600/trash.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 187px; height: 250px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TTys6Ua4o2I/AAAAAAAABJk/MabtfiYwHwI/s320/trash.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565513357436953442" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was in such a hurry to get rid of them so the big boss wouldn't see them, that I threw it under my desk... into the trash can.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Go figures.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-394547143194982531?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/394547143194982531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=394547143194982531' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/394547143194982531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/394547143194982531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/01/one-mans-trash-is-another-mans-treasure.html' title='One Man&apos;s Trash Is Another Man&apos;s Treasure'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TTys6Ua4o2I/AAAAAAAABJk/MabtfiYwHwI/s72-c/trash.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-274654584104085912</id><published>2011-01-21T13:59:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-21T14:10:03.285-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Sign of the Times</title><content type='html'>Three times in the last five months I accidently put my underwear on inside-out. Two out of those three times I didn't notice until hours later.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A few days ago the weather was finally good enough to roll my window down. In fact, I was getting so hot that I had to. I then checked the weather and it was 33 degrees. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've tried to make those instant cookies many times, but each time I follow the directions, when I pull them out of the oven, they are still shaped in squares, but with burnt bottoms. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think I'm going crazy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-274654584104085912?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/274654584104085912/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=274654584104085912' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/274654584104085912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/274654584104085912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/01/sign-of-times.html' title='A Sign of the Times'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-1102097512140989850</id><published>2011-01-14T14:48:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-14T16:30:34.720-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Look Up "Big Women Lyrics"</title><content type='html'>I have thought time and time again about the luxuries of being super fat.&lt;div&gt;Think about how much less stressful it would be if you didn't care about the way you looked or your health.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You could eat anything.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You could sit and do nothing forever.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You wouldn't have to exercise.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Did I mention that you could eat anything whenever you wanted?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh to be lazy. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ode to the lazy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sometimes I envy you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Most of the time I don't...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;but on that rare occasion I wish I had your life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TTDGpuH_bXI/AAAAAAAABJc/9cRy2s6-PW8/s1600/jaren.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 226px; height: 306px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TTDGpuH_bXI/AAAAAAAABJc/9cRy2s6-PW8/s320/jaren.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562163959861046642" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-1102097512140989850?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/1102097512140989850/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=1102097512140989850' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/1102097512140989850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/1102097512140989850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/01/look-up-big-women-lyrics.html' title='Look Up &quot;Big Women Lyrics&quot;'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TTDGpuH_bXI/AAAAAAAABJc/9cRy2s6-PW8/s72-c/jaren.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-7067314422898919825</id><published>2011-01-08T20:15:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-08T20:23:56.549-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't You Wish Your...</title><content type='html'>Sometimes Jaren talks about his &lt;i&gt;amazing&lt;/i&gt; freshman dorm experience -- all the girls, games, drunks, fun, etc.&lt;div&gt;Sometimes I wonder if I missed out.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then I remember my freshman year and all the amazing and interesting people I met, and I'm pretty sure I had the better of the two years. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thanks:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;James&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Emerson&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Camille&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tree&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and everyone else.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I would much rather have gone:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;country dancing&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;rolling in the snow&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;to midnight wally-world adventures&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;sat for hours watching you play halo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;uni-cycling&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;mountain biking&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;coupon spending&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and rock climbing. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm only sorry I didn't take lots of pictures...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and for spilling dinner all over the floor. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Scumps to the freshman years&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and bring on the year of zoll (2011)!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-7067314422898919825?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/7067314422898919825/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=7067314422898919825' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/7067314422898919825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/7067314422898919825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/01/dont-you-wish-your.html' title='Don&apos;t You Wish Your...'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-7906904135757906374</id><published>2011-01-06T15:48:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-06T16:28:17.145-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Colors of Your Closet</title><content type='html'>I realized that I wear basically the same thing every day. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Black.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Gray.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And an accenting color.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(Usually pink, yellow or green.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TSZIdOwy4mI/AAAAAAAABJM/iw5tInrwyGI/s1600/1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TSZIdOwy4mI/AAAAAAAABJM/iw5tInrwyGI/s320/1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559210457051619938" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Jaren even calls me a black girl.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm even wearing black, gray and pink today. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(Don't judge the outfit. I'm at work and it's cold outside.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TSZPiUYVTcI/AAAAAAAABJU/RYwt-V-DH6Q/s1600/2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 262px; height: 320px; " src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TSZPiUYVTcI/AAAAAAAABJU/RYwt-V-DH6Q/s320/2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559218241040371138" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I think about adding more colors to my closet. Then I forget.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-7906904135757906374?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/7906904135757906374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=7906904135757906374' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/7906904135757906374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/7906904135757906374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/01/colors-of-your-closet.html' title='Colors of Your Closet'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TSZIdOwy4mI/AAAAAAAABJM/iw5tInrwyGI/s72-c/1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-5380924004263172434</id><published>2011-01-04T14:15:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-04T14:20:15.340-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Relax -- Just Dance</title><content type='html'>I tend not to like video games. Or computer games unless it falls into one of these three categories:&lt;div&gt;1. Wii Sports&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Oregon Trail&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Just Dance&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We bought Just Dance II about a week ago. I've played it twice -- once on my own and once with Jaren. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Please check out my high score below:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TSOOslZsi-I/AAAAAAAABJE/qikNQUO5z9o/s1600/IMG_3864.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TSOOslZsi-I/AAAAAAAABJE/qikNQUO5z9o/s320/IMG_3864.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558443261710601186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I normally don't gloat, but because gaming is a weakness and I never get anything other than 12th place in MarioCart, I thought I'd show the world that I can do something. lol&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But Ashley, I will still never be the African Dancing Queen you are. haha. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-5380924004263172434?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/5380924004263172434/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=5380924004263172434' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/5380924004263172434'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/5380924004263172434'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2011/01/relax-just-dance.html' title='Relax -- Just Dance'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TSOOslZsi-I/AAAAAAAABJE/qikNQUO5z9o/s72-c/IMG_3864.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-8361688668485374984</id><published>2010-12-31T09:00:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-31T09:46:03.306-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love is in the Moments</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I debated between naming this year "The Year of Achievement," but I decided to name the year "Moments" instead.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There were so many &lt;i&gt;moments&lt;/i&gt; this year, where I just knew or felt things that are important to me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There were moments when I just wanted to skip through time, and there were moments when I wanted everything around me to freeze. Forever. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There were moments when I felt helpless and moments when I knew that I was the most blessed person in the whole world.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And I hope that these are the moments that define who I am or who I am to be. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The most important moment, of course, would be the moment I was married to the most wonderful man in the world. The moment I knew I could never love another man more. And no man would love me more. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And I'm lucky, because I feel that same feeling many times in a day. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I thank God for such moments and other defining moments this year. I hope that your year has been as full of perfection, love and peace as mine. I hope your year has been as full of moments as mine.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TR4Ilf84TzI/AAAAAAAABI8/2oyLhnwBxnE/s320/Diagonal%2BCloseup.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556888430546800434" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-8361688668485374984?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/8361688668485374984/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=8361688668485374984' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/8361688668485374984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/8361688668485374984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2010/12/love-is-in-moments.html' title='Love is in the Moments'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TR4Ilf84TzI/AAAAAAAABI8/2oyLhnwBxnE/s72-c/Diagonal%2BCloseup.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-6215821621110630545</id><published>2010-12-30T13:37:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-30T13:58:40.385-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Great Bambino</title><content type='html'>What does it mean to be "Great"? &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TRzx0VC0TzI/AAAAAAAABIs/G6kpJm4uAJY/s1600/alexander"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 183px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TRzx0VC0TzI/AAAAAAAABIs/G6kpJm4uAJY/s320/alexander" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556581921572802354" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;There was Alexander the Great.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Was he Great because he created one of the largest empires in ancient history?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Was he Great because he was tutored by Aristotle? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Or was he Great because he had four people killed so he could be king.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TRzx9MGD8VI/AAAAAAAABI0/r4CnIKdoq3I/s1600/dression.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 258px; height: 195px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TRzx9MGD8VI/AAAAAAAABI0/r4CnIKdoq3I/s320/dression.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556582073789313362" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then there was The Great Depression. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why was that Great?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Was it because it hurt so many people?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Or because it lasted longer than other Depressions.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It sure wasn't Great because people loved it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Regardless, it seems that it's a good thing to be called Great. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Maybe I will name my kids ___ the Great.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;They are bound to amount to&lt;i&gt; great&lt;/i&gt; things that way. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-6215821621110630545?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/6215821621110630545/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=6215821621110630545' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/6215821621110630545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/6215821621110630545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2010/12/great-bambino.html' title='The Great Bambino'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TRzx0VC0TzI/AAAAAAAABIs/G6kpJm4uAJY/s72-c/alexander' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-8230271384523395563</id><published>2010-12-17T16:07:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-17T16:12:33.551-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Second Post of the Day</title><content type='html'>Our family has a tradition on Christmas. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Some families have a tradition of dressing up for Christmas dinner.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Some families have Christmas dinner with a bunch of extended family.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Some families have a tradition of eating Santa's cookies as a family.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Some families eat fruit cake. Gross.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Our family's tradition started many years ago, when the little girls were too young to realize what presents were. Two or three years in a row, the little girls in our family would find stuff in our rooms a few weeks before Christmas, and wrap it up. Come Christmas morning, we would find stuff under the Christmas tree that belonged to us, but went missing. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the more recent years, Cerise and I have taken time to find something of the little girls and have it wrapped very nicely for Christmas morning. The look on their faces, when they are expecting something new, but they get their very own clothes back, is great. Priceless really.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh, and we all sleep in the livingroom on Christmas Eve. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Any interesting Christmas traditions in your family. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-8230271384523395563?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/8230271384523395563/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=8230271384523395563' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/8230271384523395563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/8230271384523395563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2010/12/second-post-of-day.html' title='Second Post of the Day'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-6345291617555843715</id><published>2010-12-17T15:38:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-17T15:52:52.691-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My First Non-Existent Boyfriend</title><content type='html'>A little bit about my life...&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My family moved around a lot, but I lived in California from the time I went to kindergarten, up until 7th grade. Everyone in California at my elementary and middle school were friends. No one was "going out" with anyone. We all just hung out, played basketball, etc. It was cool.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then I moved to Georgia. "Going out" with someone was the cool thing to do. I thought it was so weird. Why couldn't we all just be friends? So anyway, about two weeks after I moved to Conyers, some guy put a note in my art class cubbyhole. It looked something like this: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TQvpXnuL6uI/AAAAAAAABIg/HiqA3XeZQhg/s1600/IMG_3765.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TQvpXnuL6uI/AAAAAAAABIg/HiqA3XeZQhg/s320/IMG_3765.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551787557673233122" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just remember that since I didn't know anyone yet, I didn't remember the guys name. I was so surprised by it that when I read the note, I quickly folded it up and stuck it back in my cubbyhole. How could I go out with some guy that I didn't know...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One week later I finally got the courage to ask my friend who the boy was. We went back to my cubbyhole to look at the name on the note. &lt;i&gt;The note was gone. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I guess he gave up.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've always wondered who the boy was. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Probably some total hottie. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Probably. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-6345291617555843715?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/6345291617555843715/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=6345291617555843715' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/6345291617555843715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/6345291617555843715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2010/12/my-first-non-existent-boyfriend.html' title='My First Non-Existent Boyfriend'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TQvpXnuL6uI/AAAAAAAABIg/HiqA3XeZQhg/s72-c/IMG_3765.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-4668601348616684131</id><published>2010-12-10T08:26:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-10T08:46:41.081-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Christmas Promise</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I saw him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For the first time in three years.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was nostalgic.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was nice, but it was weird.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My first freshman crush -- Avery.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TQJIymS2yyI/AAAAAAAABIY/5MUwFeqB4cw/s320/avery.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549077724984167202" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Jeff (left) and Avery (right) on our trip to Zions.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Avery and I quickly became friends on my first summer out here because we were both new in an apartment complex of oldies ;) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I remember encouraging Avery to not give up while trying out for BYU's swim team. I remember when he made it in as a freshman. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We had a very interesting/weird relationship.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After he moved into the dorms, we hardly saw each other, but when we did, we usually picked up right where we left off.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The Christmas before he left on his mission, I went to drop off his Christmas present. He made me promise that I wouldn't get married for at least another two years. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't know why, but I promised. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A few days after he got back we facebooked. I told him I was engaged. I kept my promise. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Two months later, I got married to the best man I could ever dream of marrying. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yesterday, when I saw Avery, it was like seeing one of your old best friends in high school that you haven't talked to. You remember how great they were, but you know things have changed and you're happy with that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And I'm happy with that -- because right now, I'm probably the happiest girl in the world.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-4668601348616684131?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/4668601348616684131/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=4668601348616684131' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/4668601348616684131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/4668601348616684131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2010/12/christmas-promise.html' title='A Christmas Promise'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TQJIymS2yyI/AAAAAAAABIY/5MUwFeqB4cw/s72-c/avery.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-2611570977368029979</id><published>2010-12-03T20:51:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-03T20:57:26.796-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas Is Coming</title><content type='html'>People ask you what you want for Christmas, and it's always a pain trying to figure it out.&lt;div&gt;What do I &lt;i&gt;really&lt;/i&gt; want for Christmas? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It always seems that throughout the year you see so many things that you want, but when people finally get around to asking you, your mind just goes blank.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Blank.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This year has been especially hard for me. I need to find myself a good hobby again. I love to dance, but there's no time to take dance classes. I love to cook, but that can get fattening. I love to sew, but I have to have an end goal and I have to be in the mood for it. I like to play music, but these walls are too thin.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just want something for Christmas that I will LOVE. Is that too hard to ask? HAHA.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I should just be super happy that people still ask me! I am lucky :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-2611570977368029979?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/2611570977368029979/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=2611570977368029979' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/2611570977368029979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/2611570977368029979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2010/12/christmas-is-coming.html' title='Christmas Is Coming'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-5597520376032602722</id><published>2010-12-02T12:55:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-02T13:09:29.667-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Creepers Are International</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I think about the different creepers in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My earliest memory was in 5th grade. I was walking home with my little brother and sister when this man starting talking to us at a stop light. He followed us all the way to the military base, then stood there and watched us for a while. Sick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another creeper was a stalker I had after I went to EFY. He called me every day on my cell phone (must have gotten my number from a buddy), he started coming to my stake dances, and when he realized that I wasn't going to answer his cell phone calls, he started to call my house phone. My family thought it was funny when I kept telling them if he called, to tell him I wasn't home. It really wasn't funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After being in Utah for about a year and a half, I remember a specific New Years. I was walking to work in the snow when a man came at me and pulled out his junk. He chased me into the road and I ran the rest of the way (500 ft) to work. I didn't walk that way to work for, well, forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just a few weeks ago, a man in his 40s pulled up next to me in the parking lot while I was walking to my car. He offered to give me a ride to my car so he could take my parking spot. I almost got in the car with him until I realized that there were many parking spots open that were way closer to BYU. I declined and walked away as fast as I could.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you see why I hate creepers? They are everywhere.&lt;br /&gt;Watch out. Tell your kids creepy stories so they can keep on the lookout lol.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-5597520376032602722?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/5597520376032602722/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=5597520376032602722' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/5597520376032602722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/5597520376032602722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2010/12/creepers-are-international.html' title='Creepers Are International'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-8691736209174509464</id><published>2010-11-23T08:11:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-23T08:14:48.431-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What Are You Thankful For?</title><content type='html'>So far this week, I have felt like &lt;b&gt;banging&lt;/b&gt; my head into the wall... many times.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have 5 papers/projects due the week after Thanksgiving... and a reception during the holiday.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have a house that needs to be cleaned before we leave.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have a whole suitcase that needs packing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have articles to write.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And I have a husband who is also busy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At least I can never say that I didn't &lt;i&gt;'have'&lt;/i&gt; anything. I &lt;i&gt;have&lt;/i&gt; so much; I must be the most blessed person in the world... ... ...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-8691736209174509464?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/8691736209174509464/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=8691736209174509464' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/8691736209174509464'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/8691736209174509464'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2010/11/what-are-you-thankful-for.html' title='What Are You Thankful For?'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-4930004590880886973</id><published>2010-11-19T13:23:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-19T19:47:36.341-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Awkward...</title><content type='html'>Today I'm writing about something that I think about quite often, but never say out loud.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There are some awkward people in the world. And the &lt;i&gt;most&lt;/i&gt; awkward thing is, before they even open their mouth, you already know they are awkward. You don't even have to see them face to face. If someone laid out 25 pictures of different people, I'm pretty sure everyone could pick out the awkward people. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I always wonder what it is about them. It's not that all of them dress weird. One girl in my class dresses really nice, but you forget that she does... because she's weird and awkward. It wasn't until today (at almost the end of the semester) that I realized that she dressed nice!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TObi8SQYyjI/AAAAAAAABIQ/zL93EFWOEmw/s1600/images.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 201px; height: 251px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TObi8SQYyjI/AAAAAAAABIQ/zL93EFWOEmw/s320/images.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5541365916846574130" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Is it their smell?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Is it their aura?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Is&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt; it the way they look?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Is it their hair?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Is it because we can feel their personality?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I know I should be nicer to these people.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-4930004590880886973?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/4930004590880886973/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=4930004590880886973' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/4930004590880886973'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/4930004590880886973'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2010/11/awkward.html' title='Awkward...'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TObi8SQYyjI/AAAAAAAABIQ/zL93EFWOEmw/s72-c/images.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-928395098497415</id><published>2010-11-18T07:53:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-18T08:12:59.505-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm More Important Than Your Lunchbox</title><content type='html'>I usually don't care if all the seats are taken; I'm willing to sit on the floor (I'm Japanese, after all).&lt;br /&gt;But when I'm wearing a dress, sitting on the dirty floor oddly doesn't appeal to me -- at all. In fact, I will go out the the way to find a chair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is the situation:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TOVByx4ZmHI/AAAAAAAABII/oue0RhboAfY/s1600/seats.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 125px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TOVByx4ZmHI/AAAAAAAABII/oue0RhboAfY/s320/seats.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5540907257188423794" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got to the Clyde building an hour before class, there was a guy sitting in seat A, his lunchbox in seat B, and two male Middle Eastern students sitting in seats C &amp;amp; D. So I had to start looking for other seats. I walked around the whole floor, only to find that there were no other seats. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Come on dude! Move your freakin' lunchbox!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I got back to the original seats and just by pure chance, the two Middle Eastern students left. Whew! I had a seat!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I sat down, the dude in seat A looked at me and said, "Wow. You almost didn't have a seat."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Douche! If you had moved your lunchbox, I could have had a seat like ten minutes ago -- and don't even &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;pretend&lt;/span&gt; like you didn't think of it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-928395098497415?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/928395098497415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=928395098497415' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/928395098497415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/928395098497415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2010/11/i-usually-dont-care-if-all-seats-are.html' title='I&apos;m More Important Than Your Lunchbox'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TOVByx4ZmHI/AAAAAAAABII/oue0RhboAfY/s72-c/seats.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-607266117926588378</id><published>2010-11-15T14:59:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-16T07:53:14.199-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Confession</title><content type='html'>My BFF in high school Christina and I were narcissistic. We weren't like TOTALLY into ourselves, but we kind of were. &lt;div&gt;That's what I'm starting to think now when looking back at some of the things we used to do.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TOG4Sj62niI/AAAAAAAABIA/BIqqzh_8ZFM/s1600/Yo%2521.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TOG4Sj62niI/AAAAAAAABIA/BIqqzh_8ZFM/s320/Yo%2521.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539911645661666850" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My prime example was our sophomore and junior years of high school when we were too young to drive and didn't have cars. We lived about two miles away from each other so on days we couldn't get rides we would walk to each other's houses -- meeting half way in between. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That's not narcissistic. I know. BUT, when we would meet up with each other, we would report: how many whistles, honks, heads out the windows and cat calls we got. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We didn't dress slutty or anything on our walks, but sometimes we were only in our swimsuits and shorts if we were going swimming. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't remember any of our records, but an average day looked like this:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;15 honks&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5 whistles&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;7 cat calls&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5 heads out the window&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1 crazy stalker car turning around&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;We were nuts and dangerous. &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-607266117926588378?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/607266117926588378/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=607266117926588378' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/607266117926588378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/607266117926588378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2010/11/another-confession.html' title='Another Confession'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TOG4Sj62niI/AAAAAAAABIA/BIqqzh_8ZFM/s72-c/Yo%2521.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-1105391603246654578</id><published>2010-11-13T17:37:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-13T17:47:37.114-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Carry Me Home</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Why do I have this blog?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div&gt;My husband teases me about it. My family doesn't read it. My boss smirks whenever he sees me writing on it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Well, I'll tell you.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I started blogging as another means of keeping a journal, but it quickly became a way to keep up with friends that I don't live around.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A year later, they all quit blogging.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;But I'm still blogging.&lt;/b&gt; &lt;i&gt;Why?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sometimes I ask myself the same question. But it's days like this, when I just need to &lt;i&gt;express myself&lt;/i&gt; and&lt;i&gt; share my thoughts&lt;/i&gt; with &lt;b&gt;everyone and no one&lt;/b&gt; at the same time, that I really love blogging. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;To me, &lt;b&gt;blogging is a safe haven&lt;/b&gt; where nothing I say is wrong; the opinions I write are mine.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I hope you enjoy them, and on other days I hope they inspire you, because 9/10 times,&lt;b&gt; what you write inspires me&lt;/b&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hope you're having a good day and good evening. Tonight, I hope you hug, kiss, make out and have sex because I'll be doing homework all night long.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TN8xNsFWUyI/AAAAAAAABH4/UZsmndss4Hg/s1600/the%2Bnight%2Bbefore.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TN8xNsFWUyI/AAAAAAAABH4/UZsmndss4Hg/s320/the%2Bnight%2Bbefore.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539200177930654498" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-1105391603246654578?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/1105391603246654578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=1105391603246654578' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/1105391603246654578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/1105391603246654578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2010/11/carry-me-home.html' title='Carry Me Home'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TN8xNsFWUyI/AAAAAAAABH4/UZsmndss4Hg/s72-c/the%2Bnight%2Bbefore.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-399187831906511466</id><published>2010-11-11T08:29:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-11T19:09:38.497-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Take</title><content type='html'>My sister-in-law posted about an actor and it made me start thinking...&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Three male actors that I really don't like: Shia Labeouf, Nicolas Cage, Rob Pattinson.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Reasons:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TNwPTaXKh-I/AAAAAAAABHo/v1HSV9Nx8j0/s1600/labeouf.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 259px; height: 194px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TNwPTaXKh-I/AAAAAAAABHo/v1HSV9Nx8j0/s320/labeouf.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538318467927279586" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Shia Labeouf&lt;/b&gt;... you've got to be kidding me. He's not hot. He's not cute. And no one can take him seriously. He's everything you ever wanted in Even Stevens as an annoying 12 year old kid. Please stop hooking him up with the ladies. It makes the girls look like they are kissing a jr. high school student. Gross.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TNwPTOU94_I/AAAAAAAABHg/0csXDicG5mQ/s1600/cage.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 213px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TNwPTOU94_I/AAAAAAAABHg/0csXDicG5mQ/s320/cage.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538318464696837106" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Nicolas Cage&lt;/b&gt;... there's something about him that makes me feel like he's a molester or just awkward. It's hard to explain. I found a blog where this girl listed him in the top 25 hottest stars. I don't think he would even make my top 100.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TNwPTVmQSYI/AAAAAAAABHw/5UaEvljJQFA/s1600/Pattinson.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 234px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TNwPTVmQSYI/AAAAAAAABHw/5UaEvljJQFA/s320/Pattinson.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538318466648394114" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Rob Pattinson&lt;/b&gt;... even when he's not in Twilight, he looks like a cancer patient to me. Bad actor. Always looks sick. And I'm scared to death of touching his hair. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5 of the best/hottest male actors (in no particular order) &amp;amp; not all time:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Ryan Raynolds&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- David Boreanaz&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Christian Bale&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Johnny Depp&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Heath Ledger&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;... ok and Hugh Jackman&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-399187831906511466?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/399187831906511466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=399187831906511466' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/399187831906511466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/399187831906511466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2010/11/my-take.html' title='My Take'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TNwPTaXKh-I/AAAAAAAABHo/v1HSV9Nx8j0/s72-c/labeouf.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-6481696495298210621</id><published>2010-11-09T10:28:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-09T10:43:05.669-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cliques</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TNmH418CPNI/AAAAAAAABHY/ViQIN9PTyGo/s1600/mean-girls.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 299px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TNmH418CPNI/AAAAAAAABHY/ViQIN9PTyGo/s320/mean-girls.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537606627450043602" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;High school cliques don't end in high school. They continue on to college, just not at the same extent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pretty people still hang out with pretty people, jocks still have lots in common with jocks, etc., but now there are just more exceptions than the usual weird exceptions that occurred in high school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The different thing with college though, is that similar people are attracted to the same major -- so now you have an excuse to stick with your clan of people -- you have all the same classes together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What am I getting at?&lt;br /&gt;In high school, people couldn't wear the same jeans two days in a row without getting weird looks. Now, I can wear the same jeans for a whole week without anyone batting an eyelash.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Conclusive? Probably not. ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-6481696495298210621?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/6481696495298210621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=6481696495298210621' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/6481696495298210621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/6481696495298210621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2010/11/cliques.html' title='Cliques'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TNmH418CPNI/AAAAAAAABHY/ViQIN9PTyGo/s72-c/mean-girls.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-9104822907244797394</id><published>2010-11-06T17:26:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-06T17:39:31.682-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Family Matters</title><content type='html'>My family is rather 'interesting.'&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ephraim, Cerise and I turned out pretty normal. (I think.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Samuel&lt;/i&gt; has this &lt;b&gt;odd fascination is being asian&lt;/b&gt;. I'm pretty sure he knew every asian and half asian girl on campus. He once make a wooden figure for Cerise carved, not with her name, but with the words 'JapLand.'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Lydia&lt;/i&gt;'s &lt;b&gt;dream job is to be a librarian&lt;/b&gt;. She called me when she got into BYU asking me if there was a librarian major. I wasn't really sure what to tell her. Maybe that's why she's not going to BYU anymore this semester.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Sariah&lt;/i&gt; &lt;b&gt;thinks she's mexican&lt;/b&gt;. No, there is absolutely no mexican blood in her. She watches mexican operas and calls people Mar-teen instead of Martin. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Ferree&lt;/i&gt; &lt;b&gt;thinks she's black&lt;/b&gt;. That's all there is to say about that one. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Nathaniel&lt;/i&gt; used to think he was a girl, but I think he's set himself straight by now. We still have great hopes for him. He's actually really good at soccer.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TNXmoYriYRI/AAAAAAAABHQ/TsPu_gyPL8E/s1600/fam.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TNXmoYriYRI/AAAAAAAABHQ/TsPu_gyPL8E/s320/fam.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536584898416107794" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Our family in 2007&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So now you have it.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-9104822907244797394?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/9104822907244797394/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=9104822907244797394' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/9104822907244797394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/9104822907244797394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2010/11/family-matters.html' title='Family Matters'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TNXmoYriYRI/AAAAAAAABHQ/TsPu_gyPL8E/s72-c/fam.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-5561344401894048044</id><published>2010-10-30T20:15:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-10-30T20:38:00.233-06:00</updated><title type='text'>What I Wanted in the Perfect Guy</title><content type='html'>I'm about to share a secret. One a few people know this... it's embarrassing. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Do you remember back in the Young Women days when they used to ask you to write down what you wanted in your future husband? Well... I would go beyond that. I made my perfect guy lists, I made wills for when I die and I also made a body measurement list measuring all the parts of my sister and my bodies when we were like 12 &amp;amp; 13. (Yes, this list includes things like finger-to-elbow and ear-to-ear.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My oldest "Perfect Guy" list is dated July 25th, 2004 -- I &lt;i&gt;just&lt;/i&gt; turned 15. I remember my friend and I were hanging out on her birthday and she was having guy troubles, so we decided to make this list. Let's take a look and see where Jaren falls:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;PHYSICAL&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- brown or dirty blond hair (check)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- beautiful green eyes (check)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- taller than me (check)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- small lips (check)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- good body but doesn't have to be perfect (check)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- dresses well - maybe skaterish (dresses well so check)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- nice eye brows (check)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- perfect hands, not dirty (check)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- no facial hair (check)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- ungross feet (check)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- musically and athletically talented (check-but he would never admit it)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- hott (check)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- clean (check)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- smells good (check)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- good taste in music and movies (check)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Doing good so far!...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;PERSONALITY&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- sweet/romantic (check/can be)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- considerate (check)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- suprisive (check)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- understanding about girls (check)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- smart but not smart-aliky (super smart, but sometimes smart-aliky lol it's gotten to the point that i think it's cute though)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- doesn't care about what others think (check)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- first mover (sometimes check)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- cuddler (check)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- kisser (check)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- mormon (check)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- clean attitude and humor (check)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- funny (check!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- can have fun with my friends and his (check)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- smiles and laughs (double check)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- whisperer (ok... i have no clue what i meant by that one... kinda weird)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- special something about them (check - jaren's eyes twinkle)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- will change for me but doesn't show it (check)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- not whipped whipped, but still whipped (check lol)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- manly manners (check?)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- cooks (nope haha but i'm glad)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- good with kids (check)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- loving (check)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- watches the stars (wow. i was corny)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- wishes (nope lol dreams but not wishes)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- holds my hand (check)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- open with me (check)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- honest (check)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- trustworthy (check)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- friendly and outgoing (check)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- not pushy (check)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- doesn't want to hurt my feelings (check)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;WOW! That was a lot of things that I wanted in my perfect man -- I'm impressed if you finished it. Basically... I think I won by marrying Jaren. I think I did a pretty good job at 15 to pick the attribute for the perfect guy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-5561344401894048044?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/5561344401894048044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=5561344401894048044' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/5561344401894048044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/5561344401894048044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2010/10/what-i-wanted-in-perfect-guy.html' title='What I Wanted in the Perfect Guy'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-2515798598635283737</id><published>2010-10-29T15:33:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-10-30T19:55:10.654-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I am Totally Cool</title><content type='html'>Sometimes... I think&lt;i&gt;, I'm pretty cool. Yeah... I'm pretty cool. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;div&gt;These thoughts come after I plan something clever, or I'm just driving in the car.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today I had such a thought. I was driving back from Salt Lake after one of my hair removal treatments, and I thought,&lt;i&gt; Hm. I'm pretty cool. &lt;/i&gt;I mean, after all, only cool people get hair removal right?? Right??&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ok, so I know my logic is kind of flawed here, but it was one of those moments. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had one of these moments yesterday as well. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I walked in the Engineering building late at night to eat dinner with Jaren (he was there late). When I knocked on his office door (it's coded), I off handedly thought, &lt;i&gt;Hm. I bet I look pretty cool right now&lt;/i&gt;. I was on the Computer and Electrical Engineering floor!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As I write this, I'm starting to get it again. I mean, come on... I really should start that Awesome Halloween Party. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-2515798598635283737?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/2515798598635283737/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=2515798598635283737' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/2515798598635283737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/2515798598635283737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2010/10/i-am-totally-cool.html' title='I am Totally Cool'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-3699382807754405819</id><published>2010-10-28T09:22:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-10-28T09:29:09.202-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Brownies of Death</title><content type='html'>Not much to say. Just been working my butt off at school. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm watching Fahrenheit 451 to write a paper on the social commentary of the time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I made these brownies for a halloween party at school last week.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TMmWgGrrVSI/AAAAAAAABHI/2nYepgCJRsc/s1600/IMG_3494.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TMmWgGrrVSI/AAAAAAAABHI/2nYepgCJRsc/s320/IMG_3494.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533119095495152930" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have to take out winter clothes; it started snowing this week :(&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hopefully I'll have more interesting thoughts after the weekend... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-----&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5 things in my purse at a glance&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. school books and notes&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. make-up bag&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. camera&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. audio recorder&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. wallet&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-3699382807754405819?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/3699382807754405819/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=3699382807754405819' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/3699382807754405819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/3699382807754405819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2010/10/brownies-of-death.html' title='Brownies of Death'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TMmWgGrrVSI/AAAAAAAABHI/2nYepgCJRsc/s72-c/IMG_3494.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-2919863919226646477</id><published>2010-10-19T09:34:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2010-10-19T11:10:41.961-06:00</updated><title type='text'>NieNie Dialogues</title><content type='html'>Miracles happen all the time. &lt;div&gt;Miracles can be as small as getting all your school assignments done or still having money after paying off all your expenses. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yesterday I had the opportunity to meet a miracle. A beautiful miracle. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yesterday I was covering a story about a Madsen Bike Rally put on by Stephanie Nielson. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Stephanie is a miracle. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She and her husband were in an airplane crash a few years ago, and Stephanie woke up from a coma after three months, only to find that her body was 80% burned. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TL27zTKMcvI/AAAAAAAABG4/Cjyys9s1pFI/s1600/use.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 191px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TL27zTKMcvI/AAAAAAAABG4/Cjyys9s1pFI/s320/use.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529782407471592178" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But she walks today, only a stronger person. Her inspirational blog, NieNie Dialogues, can be found&lt;a href="http://nieniedialogues.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;here&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If you really want to cry, you should watch &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KHDvxPjsm8E"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;this&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;. It's her story. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-2919863919226646477?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/2919863919226646477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=2919863919226646477' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/2919863919226646477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/2919863919226646477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2010/10/nienie-dialogues.html' title='NieNie Dialogues'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TL27zTKMcvI/AAAAAAAABG4/Cjyys9s1pFI/s72-c/use.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-3136664375852658500</id><published>2010-10-17T15:46:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-10-17T15:49:44.101-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I walk from call to class and wonder if I'm even going to the right class. &lt;div&gt;I just walk in and look for familiar faces. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's not even a good method. I live in the same building all day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I see the same faces every day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sometimes I see a ridiculous price in the vending machine and I almost want to go to another building to see if the price changes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I swear, everything is over priced.   &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Including toenail polish.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-3136664375852658500?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/3136664375852658500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=3136664375852658500' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/3136664375852658500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/3136664375852658500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2010/10/sometimes.html' title='Sometimes'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-6642481521388214950</id><published>2010-10-14T08:58:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-10-14T09:04:56.623-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Halloween Party of the Year</title><content type='html'>This time of year is when you get a million invites to &lt;b&gt;Halloween parties &lt;/b&gt;(I guess there wouldn't be a Halloween party at any other time of the year). &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Some of these party invites are cool, others&lt;i&gt; just make you want to gag&lt;/i&gt;. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For example, I just saw an invitation to the &lt;b&gt;"Mysteriously Good Looking Halloween Dance."&lt;/b&gt; That's right. In order to come, you have to &lt;i&gt;"think you are attractive or have the potential to be"&lt;/i&gt; and &lt;i&gt;"you must like good looking people."&lt;/i&gt; I almost want to attend to see who is attending. I mean, seriously? It would be like hosting an&lt;b&gt; "Awesome Party" &lt;/b&gt;for only those people who are awesome.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Maybe that's what I'll do right now. Plan to get an "Awesome Party" invitation.&lt;i&gt; I'll even put my face on the flyer. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-6642481521388214950?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/6642481521388214950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=6642481521388214950' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/6642481521388214950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/6642481521388214950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2010/10/halloween-party-of-year.html' title='Halloween Party of the Year'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-7208621274208409938</id><published>2010-10-08T12:37:00.009-06:00</published><updated>2010-10-08T14:22:20.576-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Note to the Freshmen</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I was sitting in my student development class.&lt;br /&gt;I'm taking that class because I need 14 credits for my scholarship and I needed something easy.&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I am the only senior in my class.&lt;br /&gt;Yes, everyone else is a freshman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So... while I was sitting in my "everyone-is-a-freshman-except-for-me" class, I saw them doing some things that made me think - &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;omg. i really am surrounded by freshman. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So... I started a list in my head of &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;things that I would tell students entering college&lt;/span&gt; if I could.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Letterman jackets are totally high school. If it has your high school name written on it, you shouldn't wear it in public the day you graduate from that school.&lt;br /&gt;2. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Please&lt;/span&gt; don't talk to me during class. I paid to go to college to learn. I don't want to hear about your educational incites, or better yet, why you didn't make it to class last week.&lt;br /&gt;3.  No more popped collars, no logo tee-shirts, and please, please, please no venetian shutter sunglasses or jeans that make it looked like you were raped and put back on campus.&lt;br /&gt;4. It was cool to sleep in class in high school. In college, if you need to sleep, then just don't come.&lt;br /&gt;5. STOP the rolly backpacks! They weren't even cool in high school!&lt;br /&gt;6. If the cross walk says red, you don't cross. That's why people die.&lt;br /&gt;7. Don't TALK about high school. AP and honor classes were SO LAST YEAR.&lt;br /&gt;8. It's okay to get something other than 100% on your tests. Your mom isn't going to ground you over it.&lt;br /&gt;9. High school hair is a big no, no. You're probably wondering what that is... for guys, it's the shaggy "winged" hair. For girls... well, just keep out of the "provo poof."&lt;br /&gt;10. If you don't work, you shouldn't be failing your classes. You have more than 20 hours more than the rest of us, so don't create a past that you'll regret.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Notes of the wise to those leaving their freshman year and starting their sophomore year in college.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Just because you spent your whole first year caking on makeup doesn't mean you should stop wearing ANY your second year. Lip gloss and mascara will work wonders.&lt;br /&gt;2. Something more than sweats please. Sweats are for grandmas who wake up at 4 every morning to walk around the neighborhood... and your house.&lt;br /&gt;3. Congrats -- you passed your freshman year. It's amazing that you're still in school. Apparently, according to the American Institute of Research, around 40% of those who finish their first year don't ever start their second.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, so even I didn't follow all these rules sometimes. (I go a day in a week without make-up sometimes.)&lt;br /&gt;The only people I know who basically owned these concepts:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TK9310f-III/AAAAAAAABGI/-CcrE033K0Y/s1600/amanda.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TK9310f-III/AAAAAAAABGI/-CcrE033K0Y/s320/amanda.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525767034316398722" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Amanda is the goddess of fashion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TK94GJ49CZI/AAAAAAAABGQ/nQWK6i_gi0w/s1600/April.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 242px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TK94GJ49CZI/AAAAAAAABGQ/nQWK6i_gi0w/s320/April.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525767314936236434" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;April is so cute! She has a beautiful baby boy now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TK94ZOuIwII/AAAAAAAABGY/KlS2wMmNCCY/s1600/bianca.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TK94ZOuIwII/AAAAAAAABGY/KlS2wMmNCCY/s320/bianca.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525767642650558594" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Bianca personifies and young and... awesome!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TK95BVES9cI/AAAAAAAABGg/4leXe7hkDt8/s1600/jenna.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TK95BVES9cI/AAAAAAAABGg/4leXe7hkDt8/s320/jenna.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525768331548882370" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Jenna is SO funny :) Her fashion isn't tainted by her southern attitude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TK95cJ6TanI/AAAAAAAABGo/YMUyJs0zbgU/s1600/rachel.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 186px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TK95cJ6TanI/AAAAAAAABGo/YMUyJs0zbgU/s320/rachel.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525768792410647154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Rachel rocks. As in literally, rocks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TK95yz5HaOI/AAAAAAAABGw/5xB0RLfum-A/s1600/shantel.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 315px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TK95yz5HaOI/AAAAAAAABGw/5xB0RLfum-A/s320/shantel.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525769181637077218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shantel would never admit that she falls under all requirements, but she totally does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-7208621274208409938?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/7208621274208409938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=7208621274208409938' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/7208621274208409938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/7208621274208409938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2010/10/note-to-freshmen.html' title='Note to the Freshmen'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TK9310f-III/AAAAAAAABGI/-CcrE033K0Y/s72-c/amanda.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-1176563190311108288</id><published>2010-10-07T10:40:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2010-10-07T10:53:30.470-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Changed My Facebook Status</title><content type='html'>I usually don't post a Facebook status because I think it's an addictive feature. If someone regularly updates their status it usually gets to the point where they update it like three times a day. It's addictive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Regardless, I updated my status yesterday because there was a girl in the newsroom that was raving over a story that I wrote. Yes. To the point that she said that she was my biggest fan. She cut out my story and posted it on the fridge. Even I haven't done that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew that Facebook is now a part of our culture because my first instinct was to think about the Facebook "become a fan" button. Isn't that kind of ridiculous? I wanted to start my own fan page. (JK) But I knew that I had to somehow make it a part of my page, so I changed my status.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TK36KGoPBNI/AAAAAAAABGA/XFzlcz-zLYI/s1600/facebook.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 66px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TK36KGoPBNI/AAAAAAAABGA/XFzlcz-zLYI/s320/facebook.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525347369338471634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lame? Probably.&lt;br /&gt;Totally awesome? Of course.&lt;br /&gt;... Just like most things in life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S.  You can see the article &lt;a style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);" href="http://universe.byu.edu/node/11157"&gt;HERE&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-1176563190311108288?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/1176563190311108288/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=1176563190311108288' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/1176563190311108288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/1176563190311108288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2010/10/i-changed-my-facebook-status.html' title='I Changed My Facebook Status'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TK36KGoPBNI/AAAAAAAABGA/XFzlcz-zLYI/s72-c/facebook.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-2949702870808943164</id><published>2010-09-30T10:19:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-09-30T10:26:11.979-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Construction and Yogurt</title><content type='html'>Every morning I walk by a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;construction site&lt;/span&gt; on my way to my school building &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(once you get into your major, you usually have all your classes in the same building)&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Every morning I walk by t&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;wo construction workers&lt;/span&gt; sitting on the same block of cement, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;eating breakfast&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;It's &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;not always the same&lt;/span&gt; two workers, but they are always sitting in the same place, eating &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(I swear)&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;yogurt&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of which, my friends have been eating&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Greek yogurt&lt;/span&gt; for quite a while now. I finally decided to try it out. I bought two different flavors -- &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;plain&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;strawberry&lt;/span&gt;. When I first took a bite of the plain one, I almost wanted to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;throw up&lt;/span&gt;! I love plain yogurt, but this was just gross! I decided to put some &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;honey&lt;/span&gt; in it, and TADA! It was actually really good! I just have to try the strawberry kind now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;media law test&lt;/span&gt; today :(. I've studied quite a bit.&lt;br /&gt;This weekend is SUPER &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;busy&lt;/span&gt;. Starting today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-2949702870808943164?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/2949702870808943164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=2949702870808943164' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/2949702870808943164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/2949702870808943164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2010/09/construction-and-yogurt.html' title='Construction and Yogurt'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-24620821158246589</id><published>2010-09-23T10:26:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-09-23T10:43:17.873-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Trimmings</title><content type='html'>- If you are a gamer, that's fine, but don't game during our group meetings. If you want to, just leave -- you'll be more helpful that way.&lt;br /&gt;- If you kiss and tell, that's cute. If you just started dating a guy, I love to hear the details. BUT, don't tell me a week later that you're getting engaged. That just makes me want to gag.&lt;br /&gt;- If I don't like you, I probably don't know it. I probably just think that you don't like me, and I'll put all the blame on your unfriendliness. Not intentional -- just reality.&lt;br /&gt;- Don't hit on a married man. That's just gross. If you hit on my married man, I'll probably laugh at your face... and talk about you behind your back because it's a funny story.&lt;br /&gt;- Turn your cell phone on vibrate before entering any pubic setting with four walls and a door. Classrooms, church, work meetings, court rooms, and the grocery store. Ring tones are not for us, they are for you.&lt;br /&gt;- Don't j-walk. I hate it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a more positive note:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- If you bring a whole pizza to class and can eat it in one sitting, I will give you props. That's just impressive.&lt;br /&gt;- Lending a friend some money to for printing is nice. Giving someone you don't even know printing money is just awesome.&lt;br /&gt;- Reading the school newspaper is good for you. It keeps you up with your surroundings. If you read big time newspapers for fun, I'm super amazed. No one does it for fun anymore. There's the internet.&lt;br /&gt;- Give me a compliment and I'll give you friend-rights for the rest of your life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-24620821158246589?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/24620821158246589/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=24620821158246589' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/24620821158246589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/24620821158246589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2010/09/trimmings.html' title='Trimmings'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-2885693323846662278</id><published>2010-09-16T09:04:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-09-16T09:11:30.147-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Obama Speaks to the Children</title><content type='html'>I promised Kelli that I would post this article up because her daughter, Kylee, is in it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://universe.byu.edu/node/10675"&gt;HERE&lt;/a&gt; it is! Kylee is at the very end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was very nice of the Apples to let me come to their house and interview their kids. I didn't have Kelli's number, so I just marched on over to their house lol.&lt;br /&gt;It's kind of difficult to work on the Education beat when you don't know any teachers or students around here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope most of your kids or siblings or whoever got a chance to watch Pres Obama speak to them about staying in school.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-2885693323846662278?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/2885693323846662278/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=2885693323846662278' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/2885693323846662278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/2885693323846662278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2010/09/obama-speaks-to-children.html' title='Obama Speaks to the Children'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-63704709867349360</id><published>2010-09-15T14:50:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2010-09-15T15:01:49.131-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Posted Disagreement</title><content type='html'>I &lt;i&gt;was&lt;/i&gt; going to write about going to see Congressman Chaffetz speak at UVU on Monday, but then I realized that my &lt;b&gt;whole life revolves&lt;/b&gt; around the Daily Universe, so I decided to rebel by not writing about it. &lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;So this is me not writing about it. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In class today they were talking about how pornography is addictive. One girl argued that it was the only media that was physically addicting. I disagree. I'm sure that people get physically addicted over computer games, weird TV shows, and other forms of media.&lt;b&gt; I'm not down playing pornography (it's super bad); I'm just disagreeing with that girl. &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;P.S. I really need to go clothes shopping. If you feel like donating to this cause, please click HERE. Just kidding, &lt;b&gt;that's not really a link&lt;/b&gt;, and I would never expect anyone to donate to such a &lt;i&gt;ridiculous&lt;/i&gt; "cause," but I'm starting to think that it's really becoming a traumatic issue. Lol. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;----------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5 people that i get &lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;super&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt; excited when i see on my caller id&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. Erin Degraff&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Christina Johnson&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Nicky Silva&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. Jewelyn Brown&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. Jaren Lamprecht&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;... everyone else that calls me I also see in person. Ok, so I see Jaren in person too...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-63704709867349360?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/63704709867349360/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=63704709867349360' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/63704709867349360'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/63704709867349360'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2010/09/posted-disagreement.html' title='Posted Disagreement'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-1095792152019154374</id><published>2010-09-09T10:03:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-09-09T10:16:46.456-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Former BYU Student Sentenced to Prison</title><content type='html'>I'm not planning on posting most of the articles that I've written, in fact, I hardly plan on posting any of them, but this one was on the front page of the Daily Universe, and some of you might find it interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This guy, Stetson Geo Hallam, was actually the home teacher of the girl he attacked. I later learned that not only did he try to handcuff her, but he also tried to stick her in a box. So much for an April Fools prank!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://universe.byu.edu/node/10430"&gt;Article is found here!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Almost gave me nightmares last night. Yikes!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-1095792152019154374?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/1095792152019154374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=1095792152019154374' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/1095792152019154374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/1095792152019154374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2010/09/former-byu-student-sentenced-to-prison.html' title='Former BYU Student Sentenced to Prison'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-5891275079946419407</id><published>2010-09-04T18:31:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2010-09-04T18:40:12.897-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Amendment 425.765.34612: The Right to Party</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;It finally happened.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was not&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; un-invited&lt;/span&gt; to something &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;because I am married&lt;/span&gt;. I guess 'un-invited' isn't the right word when I was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;never invited&lt;/span&gt; in the first place, but here's how it goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Boy-at-work:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Talking about his movie viewing party at his house that night and how fun it was going to be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Chatting with him and joking about the girls that are going to be there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Boy-at-work:&lt;/span&gt; Yeah, it will be a lot of fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt; Then why wasn't I invited? (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Teasingly&lt;/span&gt;.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Boy-at-work:&lt;/span&gt; You obviously weren't invited because you're married!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I forgot that married people don't party. Looks like Jaren and I will have to sit at the table and talk about our day and not party tonight. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tragic&lt;/span&gt; ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TILmadAOTII/AAAAAAAABF4/N4x3mVxK8RM/s1600/IMG_3275.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TILmadAOTII/AAAAAAAABF4/N4x3mVxK8RM/s320/IMG_3275.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513222235991460994" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-5891275079946419407?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/5891275079946419407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=5891275079946419407' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/5891275079946419407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/5891275079946419407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2010/09/amendment-42576534612-right-to-party.html' title='Amendment 425.765.34612: The Right to Party'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TILmadAOTII/AAAAAAAABF4/N4x3mVxK8RM/s72-c/IMG_3275.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-1421827674093458143</id><published>2010-09-02T08:33:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-09-02T08:56:54.324-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Verizon Problems Solved--Hero: Mom</title><content type='html'>My cell phone problems have been a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;pain&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess when that guy stole my phone out of my suitcase, he rang up a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;$400 phone bill.&lt;/span&gt; So I got an unpleasant phone call from my parents on Monday night telling me that Jaren and I now have a bill to pay. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Sigh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Verizon wouldn't take off the phone bill because we didn't report it within 48 hours. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;We were in Jamaica for goodness sakes!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;We didn't have the money to purchase internet and we for sure didn't have a phone anymore! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What were we supposed to do?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TH-65pJS-pI/AAAAAAAABFw/LnBn7cMefKk/s1600/ver.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 279px; height: 181px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TH-65pJS-pI/AAAAAAAABFw/LnBn7cMefKk/s320/ver.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512329968384932498" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I guess that my mom went to work and one of her co-teachers convinced her to fight the case. My mom had my dad call Verizon and when that didn't help,&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; she called them herself! &lt;/span&gt;Finally, after arguing with the lady on the phone for quite some time &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;("I'm sorry ma'am, but regardless, you get charged roaming fees for taking the phone out of the country."&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; "Well of course we have to take it out of the country, but it doesn't mean that you have to turn in on while you're out of the country! You need it up until the time you get onto the airplane and the second you get off!"&lt;/span&gt;, etc.), &lt;/span&gt;my mom asked to speak to the manager.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few minutes later, &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;wallah! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;The phone bill is gone!&lt;/span&gt; The manager looked at the phone records and saw that the phone was in many different countries, including Canada, the Caribbeans, and France. Definitely stolen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;That&lt;/span&gt; was a good phone call to get from my mom. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Yes&lt;/span&gt;, a very good one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-1421827674093458143?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/1421827674093458143/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=1421827674093458143' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/1421827674093458143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/1421827674093458143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2010/09/verizon-problems-solved-hero-mom.html' title='Verizon Problems Solved--Hero: Mom'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TH-65pJS-pI/AAAAAAAABFw/LnBn7cMefKk/s72-c/ver.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-8715213260328471952</id><published>2010-08-25T09:52:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2010-08-25T10:47:29.919-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Back On Earth!</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;I'm back!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I guess I haven't &lt;i&gt;really&lt;/i&gt; been gone, but it totally feels like it. I lost my cell phone on my way to Jamaica. Let me rewrite that. My cell phone was &lt;b&gt;stolen&lt;/b&gt; on the way to Jamaica. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Once upon a time, a &lt;i&gt;perfectly happy&lt;/i&gt; newlywed couple packed up to go to Jamaica for their honeymoon. The enchanted bride didn't think twice about packing her cell phone in her checked luggage because she knew that she wouldn't need it on her honeymoon--her new husband would be by her side the &lt;i&gt;whole&lt;/i&gt; time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As soon as the blissful couple made it to their hotel room at the Sandal's resort, the groom realized that neither of them brought a time piece. The bridge opened her luggage to get her cell phone, only to find that it was &lt;b&gt;missing&lt;/b&gt;! &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;Gone&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;! &lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Vanished&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;!&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; Disappeared&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The couple would have assumed that the cell phone was lost &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;(not stolen)&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;i&gt;except&lt;/i&gt; when they tried to call it, the cell phone was on. Further evidence of theft was provided when the bride's secretary told her that she received a text while the couple was on their honeymoon, asking for money. This is not something the bride or groom would have done at all!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Shortly after returning to America, the couple got that line disconnected. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Happy ending:&lt;/b&gt; I finally got a new phone sent to me and activated! I even got all my phone numbers back because I used Backup Assistant! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Old Phone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/THVFcupMcoI/AAAAAAAABFY/XfBFz3MjMvw/s1600/black.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/THVFcupMcoI/AAAAAAAABFY/XfBFz3MjMvw/s320/black.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509386079017136770" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Phone (they no longer have the Dark Knight edition)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/THVFqX3XHTI/AAAAAAAABFg/0tZwbqXY07E/s1600/blue.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 318px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/THVFqX3XHTI/AAAAAAAABFg/0tZwbqXY07E/s320/blue.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509386313420709170" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-8715213260328471952?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/8715213260328471952/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=8715213260328471952' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/8715213260328471952'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/8715213260328471952'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2010/08/im-back-on-earth.html' title='I&apos;m Back On Earth!'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/THVFcupMcoI/AAAAAAAABFY/XfBFz3MjMvw/s72-c/black.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-5960891976629962595</id><published>2010-08-17T14:29:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2010-08-17T14:41:27.593-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Back! And Another Blog!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;We're back&lt;/span&gt; from our honeymoon! It was so much fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that we're married... &lt;u&gt;I have a new blog&lt;/u&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://thelamprechts.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;www.thelamprechts.blogspot.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That blog is mostly for keeping up with our life as The Lamprecht family. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;This&lt;/span&gt; blog will return to being my thoughts and other random things :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of which...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We saw these next to the pool!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TGrx2LH6x8I/AAAAAAAABFE/OeEmp9SZfTo/s1600/IMG_3141.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TGrx2LH6x8I/AAAAAAAABFE/OeEmp9SZfTo/s320/IMG_3141.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506479407415084994" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good thing they put those there--otherwise, I would have had no clue that the pool area was wet. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Whew!&lt;/span&gt; I thought it was hilarious--lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My bachelorette party was awsome! We went to The Chocolate in Orem. Yums!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TGryJYXEZJI/AAAAAAAABFM/xd21MJ5yS1o/s1600/IMG_3130.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TGryJYXEZJI/AAAAAAAABFM/xd21MJ5yS1o/s320/IMG_3130.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506479737385804946" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Otherwise, I am &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;super sad&lt;/span&gt; that The Browns are moving away, but super excited for all the adventures that they have ahead of themselves! Good luck!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3 places i plan on going before i die&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. philippines&lt;br /&gt;2. back to japan&lt;br /&gt;3. europe&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-5960891976629962595?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/5960891976629962595/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=5960891976629962595' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/5960891976629962595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/5960891976629962595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2010/08/were-back-from-our-honeymoon-it-was-so.html' title='Back! And Another Blog!'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TGrx2LH6x8I/AAAAAAAABFE/OeEmp9SZfTo/s72-c/IMG_3141.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117400413472212041.post-2236098869349551402</id><published>2010-08-03T07:58:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-08-03T09:02:48.454-06:00</updated><title type='text'>It's The Final Count Down...</title><content type='html'>My boss pointed out to me that today is my &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;last Tuesday&lt;/span&gt; as a&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; single&lt;/span&gt; woman. Yikes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To make this moment count:&lt;br /&gt;- I ate &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;two&lt;/span&gt; bowls of cereal.&lt;br /&gt;- I'm doing five hours of work &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;without showering&lt;/span&gt; (waiting until I go running at noon).&lt;br /&gt;- I&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; ate&lt;/span&gt; a TLC Honey Almond Flax Bar.&lt;br /&gt;- I talked about the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Clinton family&lt;/span&gt; with my coworker.&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Blogged&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My life is super exciting...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But on a more exciting note--&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Jaren's family came into town&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been so much fun to get to know them. :) And yes, I think I have gotten to know them. &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(Better than I did, anyway lol.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm super exited for the much fun we have yet to have!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TFgpug7s8aI/AAAAAAAABEs/zQGQzKscRzI/s1600/IMG_3113.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TFgpug7s8aI/AAAAAAAABEs/zQGQzKscRzI/s320/IMG_3113.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501192823924126114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TFgpvLSc0cI/AAAAAAAABE0/glZ61yjvvgs/s1600/IMG_3117.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TFgpvLSc0cI/AAAAAAAABE0/glZ61yjvvgs/s320/IMG_3117.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501192835293827522" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TFgpvTHJngI/AAAAAAAABE8/Dv9MaAUWrM4/s1600/IMG_3121.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TFgpvTHJngI/AAAAAAAABE8/Dv9MaAUWrM4/s320/IMG_3121.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501192837393915394" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/117400413472212041-2236098869349551402?l=elib-roses.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/feeds/2236098869349551402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=117400413472212041&amp;postID=2236098869349551402' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/2236098869349551402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/117400413472212041/posts/default/2236098869349551402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elib-roses.blogspot.com/2010/08/its-final-count-down.html' title='It&apos;s The Final Count Down...'/><author><name>EliB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12023789749243666393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/S4ap-7SSJuI/AAAAAAAAA44/uc6kvs-Y3CI/S220/hh.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EN11Wnta__0/TFgpug7s8aI/AAAAAAAABEs/zQGQzKscRzI/s72-c/IMG_3113.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
