<?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-6995280694747901961</id><updated>2011-11-25T00:22:33.577-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Family Matters</title><subtitle type='html'>To solve the human equation, we need to add love, subtract hate, multiply good, and divide between truth and error. 
-- Janet Coleman</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Bits from Bonnie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16144217566368309476</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SMXSlifB0EI/AAAAAAAAAAY/NzqQFefFbHU/S220/me.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>32</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995280694747901961.post-5101907884509183906</id><published>2011-10-02T11:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-02T12:22:35.841-07:00</updated><title type='text'>There's An Elephant In The Room!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ADufBOKbve0/ToiutjINHEI/AAAAAAAAAHs/W7Ujb_If740/s1600/elephantroom11.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ADufBOKbve0/ToiutjINHEI/AAAAAAAAAHs/W7Ujb_If740/s320/elephantroom11.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658965029338029122" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;There's an elephant in the room.  Everyone pretends not to see it.  Sitting among the delicate furnishings, taking up lots of space, we all ignore the huge elephant in the room.  It seems to get larger and larger as we all avoid confrontation.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Everyone knows the elephant.  And yet they don't know how to approach the elephant.  It seems that the elephant has taken control of everything and everyone in the room.  Sitting there comfortably  surveying the behavior of all around him, the elephant just grows and grows until there is barely enough room for anyone else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The room gets very uncomfortable.  Everyone wants to do something to make it better, but doesn't quite know how to approach the elephant.  What if I try to slowly walk up to the elephant and talk calmly to him.  Will he attack me?   One brave soul decides to confront the elephant in the room.  Trying desperately to be as careful as they can, the person approaches  the elephant with caution and confronts the situation.  But the elephant attacks!  Viciously roaring and stomping, the elephant does not like what the person has to say.  It does not matter what is said, you can not reason with the elephant.  The elephant will have the last word and eat you alive.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1JcKwLadXG8/Toiwbg4pB5I/AAAAAAAAAH8/5xFrgeiB9DE/s200/elephant%2Bkiss.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;How did the elephant get that way you ask?  Probably because as a baby elephant, he was cute and adorable.&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-askjra82boA/Toi1wB6ifCI/AAAAAAAAAIM/3SY8dvjiiFI/s200/Baby-cartoon-elephant-picture.jpg" /&gt;But when he wanted his way, he would make loud noises and stomp around until he got his way.  And sometimes, even though his mommy knew it was wrong, it was just easier to give him his way than to see how vicious and mean he might become.  Sometimes it was just less embarrassing to let the elephant have his way and get it over with.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But the mommy though always loving and caring for the elephant, did herself no favors by allowing the baby elephant his way.  He just grew up always forcing those around him to step on eggshells to get away from the wrath of the elephant in the room.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now the elephant has grown so large he no longer fits in the room.&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OvM2F6e5rQM/Toi3ZmlwzHI/AAAAAAAAAIU/6dNxNHVzbgo/s200/huge%2Belephant.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Everyone is avoiding him, and no one wants to come near him for fear that he will lash out at them and hurt them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And yet, the elephant is very sad.  He wants to communicate, he just doesn't know how anymore. The years and years of throwing his weight around have caused him to be avoided and feared.  And the one who suffers the most in the room is the elephant.&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-s8ZOKBSJfSw/Toi4Z2vvmrI/AAAAAAAAAIc/GIU-UUnuduM/s200/sad-elephant.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6995280694747901961-5101907884509183906?l=bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/feeds/5101907884509183906/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6995280694747901961&amp;postID=5101907884509183906' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/5101907884509183906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/5101907884509183906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/2011/10/theres-elephant-in-room.html' title='There&apos;s An Elephant In The Room!'/><author><name>Bits from Bonnie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16144217566368309476</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SMXSlifB0EI/AAAAAAAAAAY/NzqQFefFbHU/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ADufBOKbve0/ToiutjINHEI/AAAAAAAAAHs/W7Ujb_If740/s72-c/elephantroom11.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995280694747901961.post-1087419180160277613</id><published>2011-09-30T20:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-30T22:07:44.793-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Parenting</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pcJwfY6j-2g/Toae-dmm42I/AAAAAAAAAHk/SipZmLveoSQ/s1600/thumbnail.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 242px; height: 264px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pcJwfY6j-2g/Toae-dmm42I/AAAAAAAAAHk/SipZmLveoSQ/s320/thumbnail.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658384777773245282" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doug's mother (if you want to call her that) gave up custody when he was only two years old.  I guess she was too busy dating and just couldn't handle the responsibilities of raising a child while personally satisfying the physical needs of every male she came in contact with.  Nevertheless, he always stayed in contact with her and tried to get as much love from her as he could possibly get her to fake.   When we got married, we received a box full of dirt, broken pottery and a dead plant in the mail.  Did I mention she was also a bit on the crazy side?  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Doug's dad married five times.  One of his ex-wives physically and sexually abused Doug, and made him give up every toy he owned.  He also had to give up holidays and birthdays, as she was a Jehovah's witness.  Doug had always been afraid of his dad even after the man went blind from glaucoma because he had always been physically and mentally abusive to him growing up.  Doug always used to say that he felt like visiting with his dad was out of duty and not love.  But he always managed to stay in touch with his dad and tried his hardest to build a relationship with him, even though it was futile.  The man once got mad at us for sending him a birthday card and not a gift because his three step kids went in together to buy him a $10 watch.  We on the other hand were struggling to raise two kids on a teachers salary.  Whenever he visited, he always  talked about sex, and put Doug down.  Did I mention that he was a bit on the crazy side?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I married Doug December 31, 1976.  My daughter Mandy was only four months old.  Doug had asked me to marry him on our second date.  We waited a three months.  We had so much fun and connected so well before we got married, but then once we were married, things changed. He hugged me like I was a stranger.  He was jealous and always accused me of wanting to cheat on him.  He suddenly became totally un-affectionate and cold towards me. Suddenly, Doug did not like my family now that we were married.  He distance himself from me, and tried to alienate me from my family.  He would go to family get together's, sit away from everyone and blame them for not talking to him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Doug and I had one child together, Phillip (PJ) who was born 10 months after we married, making him 15 months younger than his sister.  PJ was Doug's chance to make up for the pain he had felt all of his childhood.  He could protect and coddle PJ and make sure he never felt the pain that he felt of a mother and father who never really wanted to have a child.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Doug died when PJ and Mandy were 5 &amp;amp; 6 years old.  He was playing racquetball and had a massive heart attack on the court dying instantly.  When I called his mother to let her know that Doug had died, she couldn't make it to the funeral,  but wanted to know if he left her any money.  When his dad came to the memorial, he couldn't stay for the burial service.  He later took me to court for grandparent visitation because I would not let the kids visit them without me along since they couldn't stand being with him.  They won the battle, not the war.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I raised my kids alone and was both mom and dad to them.  I didn't want to clutter their lives with a step parent and worry about some of the issues that come along with that, so I worked hard to do the best I could alone.  I raised my kids in Church, while working full time; going to every school activity they were in; being scout mom; team mom; camp counselor; Sunday school teacher; struggling to pay for private school;  always trying to make every event special and creating memories for them; while teaching them how important family and God are to them.  I always told my kids that they were all each other had, and that they should always try to get along with each other.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Amazing!  Doug worked so hard to keep a relationship going on with two people who didn't give a damn.  They were self absorbed and had no time for anyone but themselves.  My kids have always come first for me and I have always been willing to sacrifice anything including my life for them both.  My love for them is unconditional, and nothing, absolutely nothing at all will change that I am and always will be mother to them both.  Nothing will ever keep me from loving either of them regardless of what happens in our lives.  I'm their MOM! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think Doug's parents wouldn't have cared at all if he walked out of their lives.  Neither of them would have blinked an eye if he turned away and never looked back.  I on the other hand do care!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;I have found that there are two types of children who never stop trying to build a strong and loving relationship with their parents.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1) Those who appreciate the love and sacrifices their parents made for them because of the                unconditional love they were given.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;          &lt;/span&gt;&amp;amp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2) Those who are begging to be loved by parents who don't really care or understand what                 parenting is all about.&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;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6995280694747901961-1087419180160277613?l=bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/feeds/1087419180160277613/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6995280694747901961&amp;postID=1087419180160277613' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/1087419180160277613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/1087419180160277613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/2011/09/parenting.html' title='Parenting'/><author><name>Bits from Bonnie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16144217566368309476</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SMXSlifB0EI/AAAAAAAAAAY/NzqQFefFbHU/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pcJwfY6j-2g/Toae-dmm42I/AAAAAAAAAHk/SipZmLveoSQ/s72-c/thumbnail.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995280694747901961.post-2528031913235334329</id><published>2011-06-18T20:07:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-04T20:44:46.749-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; "&gt;&lt;h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; position: relative; font: normal normal normal 24px/normal Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; "&gt;&lt;a href="http://thingsmakemecrazy.blogspot.com/2011/06/mothers-love.html" style="text-decoration: none; font: normal normal normal 24px/normal Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;A Mother's Love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;div class="post-header" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); line-height: 1.6; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.5em; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;div class="post-header-line-1"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-8183295968099429707" style="width: 530px; line-height: 1.4; "&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.bbleo.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/05/heart-touching-FEELINGS.jpg" style="padding-top: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-bottom: 8px; padding-left: 8px; " /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;We are not all alike!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;We don't always show our feelings, but we always want others to understand&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;them. Sometimes we wear them on our sleeve. Sometimes we suppress them. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Sometimes we feel everything, and sometimes we feel nothing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Like my mother, I wear my feelings on my sleeve. I get hurt rather easily, but I &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;try to hide it from others through laughter. When I do tell someone I'm hurt, it &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;backfires. I'm either made fun of, or told how I only think of myself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Not all kids are alike either.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;I have two kids. One calls me daily and tells me how much she loves me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;The other one never calls, and tells me how weird it is to have his mom kiss &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;him on the lips. I love them both the same.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;So why is it that mother's are willing to get hurt by their kids over and over again, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;and still have unconditional love for them?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;I believe it is because our Heavenly Father does the same thing for us. He loves&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;us even when we don't show him the love that he deserves. He understands that &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;we fall, but he is there to help us get up. His love is unconditional and always &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;present.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;That is what I want to be to for my kids and my grand-kids. I want them to know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;that regardless of what is going on, I am always there for them, always willing to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;help, and always loving them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;But that does not mean I will always get back what I give. I have to be willing to&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt; get what I get and get over it. So, that is exactly what I do. I rejoice for the good&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;times and pray for the tough times. I cling to those times that make me happy, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;and try not to get upset by the sad times.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;One day, I hope my kids and grand-kids know that in the end, all I ever wanted&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;for them was for the&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href=""&gt;Publish Post&lt;/a&gt;m to be happy, healthy and loving God. And all I ever wanted&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;from them was their love and respect!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Love Mom!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6995280694747901961-2528031913235334329?l=bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/feeds/2528031913235334329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6995280694747901961&amp;postID=2528031913235334329' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/2528031913235334329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/2528031913235334329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/2011/06/mothers-love-we-are-not-all-alike-we.html' title=''/><author><name>Bits from Bonnie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16144217566368309476</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SMXSlifB0EI/AAAAAAAAAAY/NzqQFefFbHU/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995280694747901961.post-3265578172083492655</id><published>2009-07-09T10:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-17T10:29:10.201-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Advice, Comments and Come Backs</title><content type='html'>Have you ever just wanted to say what you are thinking as opposed to what is politically correct or acceptable???   Well, surprise...I pretty much say what's on my mind most of the time.  Don't get me wrong, I don't set out to create a scene or embarrassing moment, I just liven things up a little when ever I can.  So whenever people ask me some questions, or give advice, or just make comments that unnerve me a little, I usually have a come back.  For Example...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Question from a cashier:  How would you like to pay for that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My answer:  Out of your pocket!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Advice from my daughter:  Pick your battles!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My answer:  I just did!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Greeting from the waiter:  My name is Joe and I will be your waiter tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My answer:  My name is Bonnie and I will be your customer tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Comment from a friend after a heated debate:  You are so opinionated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My answer:  Thank you...Would you like to have one too???&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6995280694747901961-3265578172083492655?l=bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/feeds/3265578172083492655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6995280694747901961&amp;postID=3265578172083492655' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/3265578172083492655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/3265578172083492655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/2009/07/advice-comments-and-come-backs.html' title='Advice, Comments and Come Backs'/><author><name>Bits from Bonnie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16144217566368309476</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SMXSlifB0EI/AAAAAAAAAAY/NzqQFefFbHU/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995280694747901961.post-7145247050183082769</id><published>2009-07-07T21:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-07T23:38:23.167-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mis-Matched Shoes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SlQ-2PBAQRI/AAAAAAAAAEw/PWWy5SHQIlQ/s1600-h/shoes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SlQ-2PBAQRI/AAAAAAAAAEw/PWWy5SHQIlQ/s320/shoes.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355974958314963218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Never ever buy the same shoes in more than one color.The Fashion Police will attest to this!   I found the best pair of Espadrilles at Gotschalks (formerly known as Harris Co.).   They were cute, comfortable, and available in an aray of fashion colors.  I loved them so much, I bought three pairs.  Basic Black, Navy Blue and Red. When I found out I would be going on a business trip, I was exited to wear them.  The night before the trip, I set the alarm clock for 3:30 am (well I meant to, but it ended up pm). I had ironed my outfit to save time in the morning.  I'm awakened at 4:30 am from a deep sleep, with the faint sound of knocking at my front door.  I run to the front door in my sweatshirt pajama gown that has an elephant on the front with a long trunk stretching up to the chest and a peanut hanging out of the end of the trunk.  I digress!!!  I answer the door and I promise my boss that I won't take more than 20 minutes to get ready.  In lightning speed, I'm putting on my eyeliner as I brush my teeth. Combing my hair as I put on my lipstick.  I finally stand next to the dark closet, slipping my right foot and then my left into my Espadrilles.  I run outside, where it is still dark, and jump into the back seat.   About half way to our destination, the sun starts peaking out and I look down with pride hoping to gaze at my new shoes, only to find that I have on one navy and one black shoe.  I frantically tell my boss that we  have to stop at a shoe store before I go to the meeting.  He tries to harass me and convince me that he won't stop, but then realizes that I am in no mood to negotiate.  We get to our destination and I drop him off as I drive to the nearest mall.  As I wait for a little shoe boutique to open, the manager approaches the store.  After some begging, he allowed me in the store early to pick out a new pair of matching shoes.  As I shop in the store, he gets on the phone and calls his boyfriend. "Oh girl, I thought I was still drunk when I saw her shoes!", "She was desperate, I had to let her in!!!".   I finally pick out a pair that matches my outfit, and wear them out of the store to start my journey back to the meeting place.  As I enter the hotel, I decide to stop by the bathroom and freshen up.  Back to normal, I run to find the meeting room.  About 20 feet from the bathroom, I hear someone running up behind me and then a loud stomp. I turned around to find that one of the hotel employees is attacking the 20 foot streamer of toilet paper that is clinging to my shoe.  I am deafened by the laughter of those who find my humiliation amusing.  How could I have made such a foolish mistake???  Purchasing the same shoes in so many colors, is a recipe for disaster!!!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;img src="file:///C:/Users/Bonnie/AppData/Local/Temp/moz-screenshot.jpg" alt="" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6995280694747901961-7145247050183082769?l=bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/feeds/7145247050183082769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6995280694747901961&amp;postID=7145247050183082769' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/7145247050183082769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/7145247050183082769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/2009/07/mis-matched-shoes.html' title='Mis-Matched Shoes'/><author><name>Bits from Bonnie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16144217566368309476</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SMXSlifB0EI/AAAAAAAAAAY/NzqQFefFbHU/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SlQ-2PBAQRI/AAAAAAAAAEw/PWWy5SHQIlQ/s72-c/shoes.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995280694747901961.post-3339083422514548826</id><published>2009-07-07T21:57:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T10:34:34.837-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="visibility: hidden; width: 0px; height: 0px;" 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width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6995280694747901961-3339083422514548826?l=bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/3339083422514548826'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/3339083422514548826'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/2009/07/webfetti-layout-begins-here-h1-h2-h3-h4_07.html' title=''/><author><name>Bits from Bonnie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16144217566368309476</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SMXSlifB0EI/AAAAAAAAAAY/NzqQFefFbHU/S220/me.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995280694747901961.post-4443888429557239895</id><published>2009-07-07T21:37:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-07T21:37:31.678-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="visibility:hidden;width:0px;height:0px;" border=0 width=0 height=0 src="http://counters.gigya.com/wildfire/IMP/CXNID=2000002.11NXC/bHQ9MTI*NzAyNzU*MjM4MyZwdD*xMjQ3MDI3ODQ2OTM2JnA9MTU*OTQxJmQ9Jm49YmxvZ2dlciZnPTEmdD*=.gif" /&gt;&lt;style&gt;/* Webfetti Layout Begins Here */h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {margin:0px;}#content {width:740px;margin:0px;text-align:left;}#main {width:485px;float:left;margin:0px;}#main2 {float:left;width:100%;padding:0px;}#sidebar {width:240px;float:right;margin:0px;}body {text-align:center;background-color:transparent;background-image:url(http://ak.webfetti.com/assets/layouts/g/145_bkgd.jpg);background-repeat:repeat;background-attachment:scroll;background-position:left top;}body, p, .post-body {}a:link, a:active, a:visited, a.username_dark:link, a.username_dark:active, a.username_dark:visited, a.link_blue:link, a.link_blue:active, a.link_blue:visited, a.link_profile_left:link, a.link_profile_left:active, a.link_profile_left:visited, a.link_profile_left_small:link, a.link_profile_left_small:active, a.link_profile_left_small:visited, a.link_white:link, a.link_white:active, a.link_white:visited {}a:hover, a.username_dark:hover, a.link_blue:hover, a.link_profile_left:hover, a.link_profile_left_small:hover, a.link_white:hover {}.post {margin-bottom:20px;padding:10px;}.date-header, .sidebar-title {}#blog-title {padding-left:10px;padding-top:5px;}strong, b {}.post-title {}.date-header, .comment-timestamp {}#blog-title {background-repeat:no-repeat;background-attachment:scroll;background-position:left top;height:115px;width:768px;}a:link img {}a:hover img {}/* Webfetti Layout Ends Here */&lt;/style&gt;&lt;style type="text/css"&gt;.button_size {border-style:none;border-width:0;height:46px;width:106px;}.wfbutton {background:url(http://ak.webfetti.com/badge_01.gif) no-repeat left top;display:block;height:46px;text-align:left;width:106px;position:absolute;top:30px;right:10px;z-index:10000;}.wfbutton a:link,.wfbutton a:visited {display:block;background-color:transparent;}.wfbutton a:hover,.wfbutton a:active {background:url(http://ak.webfetti.com/badge_01.gif) no-repeat left top;display:block;height:46px;width:106px;}&lt;/style&gt;&lt;div class="wfbutton"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.webfetti.com/dl/index.jhtml?partner=ZKzeb030_ZKxdm011YYUS&amp;utm_campaign=wf_layout&amp;utm_source=backgrounds_10064444&amp;utm_medium=wf_blogger"&gt;&lt;img src="http://t.webfetti.com/images/nocache/tr/wf/test/rdb/01/la/bl/backgrounds_10064444.gif" name="click_here" class="button_size" /&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/6995280694747901961-4443888429557239895?l=bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/feeds/4443888429557239895/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6995280694747901961&amp;postID=4443888429557239895' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/4443888429557239895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/4443888429557239895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/2009/07/webfetti-layout-begins-here-h1-h2-h3-h4.html' title=''/><author><name>Bits from Bonnie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16144217566368309476</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SMXSlifB0EI/AAAAAAAAAAY/NzqQFefFbHU/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995280694747901961.post-422754398481234349</id><published>2009-01-03T11:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-03T12:32:22.608-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Attack Of The Project Natzi</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SV_HYf-C2tI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/SRmCqPDxpVE/s1600-h/handy+woman.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 227px; height: 162px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SV_HYf-C2tI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/SRmCqPDxpVE/s320/handy+woman.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287163711268772562" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);font-size:130%;" &gt;You all know Mandy as the "Project Queen" or the "Goddess of Decorating on a Low Budget".  But I'm here to tell you all the truth today.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);font-size:130%;" &gt;Let me set the scene for you.  New Years Day.  I am in Mandy and Josh's dining room working on my computer while Josh and Mandy are in the living room watching a football game.  The kids are playing Guitar Hero in the Family Room.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);font-size:130%;" &gt;Suddenly that eery feeling comes into the air.  It's that same feeling you get when there is a creepy silence before the storm.  When you hear a stone silence before the earth quake if you will!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);font-size:130%;" &gt;But I digress!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);font-size:130%;" &gt;In a flash, Josh and I stop what we are doing and give each other that "Deer In The Headlights Look".  It's that feeling that we have felt over and over again, when boredom overtakes Mandy and you realize that she is missing from the room.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);font-size:130%;" &gt;Enter.....Duh, Duh, Duh, Duh....THE PROJECT NATZI!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);font-size:130%;" &gt;Without even making a sound, she has moved everything away from the walls in the kitchen and started painting walls.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);font-size:130%;" &gt;We peek around the corner hoping that she won't see us.  The transformation has taken place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Much like David Banner when he feels the anger at it's peek, the fix it monster has come to the surface.  The casual clothing is ripped away and painting clothes suddenly appear.  Her hair is pulled back away from her face, and like magic, every tool she needs to paint with, are in the kitchen in place to start her project.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);font-size:130%;" &gt;Josh and I quietly peek around the corner, trying not to disturb the monster.  We are painfully aware that if she gets a sighting of us, she will have tasks for us to do in her project frenzie!  We tip toe back to where we were, and pretend not to notice that the Natzi is working on her evil plan to transform the house, one room at a time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);font-size:130%;" &gt;We are her unsuspecting prisoners and we never know when she is going to enter the room, and become a dictator shouting out orders for each of us.   We start to feel a false sense of security.  Somehow, we have managed to stay under the radar!   Then, without warning, she enters the room.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);font-size:130%;" &gt;Like watching a silent movie in fast forward speed, I am in the kitchen helping her move things back in to place and complimenting her work.  Josh in the mean time has found a better hiding place and manages to stay away until her project regeme has ended!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);font-size:130%;" &gt;I have lived through another attack, and I am a SURVIVER!!!&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/6995280694747901961-422754398481234349?l=bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/feeds/422754398481234349/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6995280694747901961&amp;postID=422754398481234349' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/422754398481234349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/422754398481234349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/2009/01/attack-of-project-natzi.html' title='Attack Of The Project Natzi'/><author><name>Bits from Bonnie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16144217566368309476</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SMXSlifB0EI/AAAAAAAAAAY/NzqQFefFbHU/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SV_HYf-C2tI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/SRmCqPDxpVE/s72-c/handy+woman.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995280694747901961.post-5371991877291795883</id><published>2009-01-02T17:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-03T10:54:54.517-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Customers New Years Resolution</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SV7CVC_SbZI/AAAAAAAAAEI/IpJt2I92Em4/s1600-h/customer.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 145px; height: 108px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SV7CVC_SbZI/AAAAAAAAAEI/IpJt2I92Em4/s320/customer.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286876679414902162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:180%;" &gt;THE CUSTOMER IS ALWAYS RIGHT!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;However, I know quite a few retailers who would love it if certain consumers were to commit to the following 10 New Years Resolutions.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;1. I will not get to the drive through window and ask for a Braille menu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;2. I will not answer "With Your Money!" when the cashier asks me, "How Would You Like To    Pay For that?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;3. I will not say, "Yes, Right Where You Left Everything!" when the sales person asks, "Did You Find Everything OK?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;4. I will not hold up the line while I search the bottom of my purse for exact change&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;5. I will not challenge every price on every item the cashier rings up&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;6. I will not say, "Hello, my name is Bonnie, and I will be your customer today!", when the server at the restaurant introduces themselves at the table&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;7. I will not take more than the maximum number of items allowed at the Express checkout&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;8. I will not park my SUV in the compact car space, and I will park within the lines&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;9. I will not leave perishables such as frozen foods on the gum rack at the grocery checkout because I am too lazy to put it back where I found it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;10. I will not ignore or tell the charity worker outside the store that "I Already Gave" and keep walking&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;This is dedicated to all of the Retailers, Servers, and Customer Service representatives who have had to endure long lines, cranky customers and working long hours on holidays!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(255, 153, 102);"&gt;My own personal New Years Resolutions are 2 blogs down!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Thank You For Your Hard Work!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&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/6995280694747901961-5371991877291795883?l=bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/feeds/5371991877291795883/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6995280694747901961&amp;postID=5371991877291795883' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/5371991877291795883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/5371991877291795883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/2009/01/customers-new-years-resolution.html' title='Customers New Years Resolution'/><author><name>Bits from Bonnie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16144217566368309476</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SMXSlifB0EI/AAAAAAAAAAY/NzqQFefFbHU/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SV7CVC_SbZI/AAAAAAAAAEI/IpJt2I92Em4/s72-c/customer.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995280694747901961.post-428184946909162762</id><published>2008-12-31T10:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-31T13:26:00.920-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't Laugh In Court</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SVvC9f4InAI/AAAAAAAAAEA/WWlGY4gDpZo/s1600-h/images.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 225px; height: 188px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SVvC9f4InAI/AAAAAAAAAEA/WWlGY4gDpZo/s320/images.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286032949434162178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-size:180%;" &gt;Yesterday, I had to tell my self not to break out with a belly laugh in Family Court!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-size:180%;" &gt;When my daughter went through her divorce 12 years ago , I would get physically ill sitting in court and watching my daughter's  soon to be ex and -n-laws putting her through the mill with new charges and court dates.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-size:180%;" &gt;One such charge was when she had the audacity to keep Stephen at home on Mother's Day!  Imagine a mother wanting to be with her own children on that day.  That one made her ex-n-laws so mad that they tried to get her put in jail!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-size:180%;" &gt;Well, my daughter took me and the Bible seriously when it said to turn the other cheek.  I must confess though, there were times I just wanted to punch a few cheeks, but I restrained myself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-size:180%;" &gt;She never denied visitation and yet somehow, the paternal grand-parents took her to court for Grand-Parent visitation.  Their hope was to take Stephen to Korea to Dad and his dad's adulteress and leave him there for them to raise.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;I never said they were particularly intelligent people!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-size:180%;" &gt;Well, being a God loving Mother, my daughter kept her chin up, her attitude positive, and tried her best to be the best Mom and person that she could.  She kept the door open for visitation because she was always taught that a child should never be blocked from having a relationship with any part of their family.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-size:180%;" &gt;As a result, Stephens' father decided not to see him for the past 9 years, the grand-parents dropped in and out and now back in to his life and they are actually now regretting all that took place in the past to upset the relationship.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-size:180%;" &gt;But the best part of all, in court yesterday, my daughter, who was worried that her minuscule child support (from when he made $900 a month) would be going down now that Stephen is 14 actually saw her child support almost double!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-size:180%;" &gt;Her ex-husband had to do a conference call from Northern California to the Judge.  Now this is a man who has had four more kids and his adulteress turned wife is not working.  When the Judge asked when my daughter's ex last saw Stephen, he said "around 2000."  Mistake #1.  When the Judge asked if there was a reason why his (my daughter's ex) wife couldn't work, he told the Judge "NO".  Mistake #2.  When the Judge asked him if he would like to consider a hardship considering the number of kids her ex has at home, my my daughter's ex didn't understand what the word hardship meant, and he said "NO, I'm fine paying what I do right now."  Mistake #3.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-size:180%;" &gt;Bottom Line  Visit your child, zip up your pants and ask for the Judge to explain anything you don't understand! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-size:180%;" &gt;1.  Getting a divorce from a man with no self control = over  $25,000&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-size:180%;" &gt;2.  Fighting one last time in court without a lawyer =              $  - 0 -&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-size:180%;" &gt;3.  Hearing your ex-husbands reaction when the Judge doubles  his child support because he never visited his child  =                                                                    $  PRICELESS!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6995280694747901961-428184946909162762?l=bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/feeds/428184946909162762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6995280694747901961&amp;postID=428184946909162762' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/428184946909162762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/428184946909162762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/2008/12/dont-laugh-in-court.html' title='Don&apos;t Laugh In Court'/><author><name>Bits from Bonnie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16144217566368309476</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SMXSlifB0EI/AAAAAAAAAAY/NzqQFefFbHU/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SVvC9f4InAI/AAAAAAAAAEA/WWlGY4gDpZo/s72-c/images.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995280694747901961.post-3985179034933162437</id><published>2008-12-30T20:04:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-30T20:04:46.148-08:00</updated><title type='text'>bitsfrombonnie</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.webfetti.com/dl/index.jhtml?partner=ZKzeb032_ZKxdm011YYUS&amp;utm_campaign=wf_3d_graphic&amp;utm_source=1170217&amp;utm_medium=wf_blogger"&gt;&lt;img src="http://ak.webfetti.com/assets/3dani/1/534.gif" alt="Webfetti.com" border="0"&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img src="http://t.webfetti.com/images/nocache/tr/wf/rds/3d/bl/1170217.gif" width="160" height="18" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img style="visibility:hidden;width:0px;height:0px;" border=0 width=0 height=0 src="http://counters.gigya.com/wildfire/IMP/CXNID=2000002.0NXC/bHQ9MTIzMDY5NjI1MTkyNyZwdD*xMjMwNjk2MjcyOTc3JnA9MTU*OTQxJmQ9Jm49YmxvZ2dlciZnPTEmdD*mbz*1N2Q1MmNkMTg*Yjg*NmRiOGMxNzY2ZTQyZGQ1NjcyMg==.gif" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6995280694747901961-3985179034933162437?l=bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/feeds/3985179034933162437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6995280694747901961&amp;postID=3985179034933162437' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/3985179034933162437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/3985179034933162437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/2008/12/bitsfrombonnie_5586.html' title='bitsfrombonnie'/><author><name>Bits from Bonnie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16144217566368309476</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SMXSlifB0EI/AAAAAAAAAAY/NzqQFefFbHU/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995280694747901961.post-2374897496318261728</id><published>2008-12-30T19:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-31T08:35:35.519-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Top Ten New Years Resolutions</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:180%;" &gt;1&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:180%;" &gt;0.  This year, I will spend more time with my kids and grand-kids at their homes, and less time stocking my own fridge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.  This year, I will pay to have my hair dyed so that my forehead is not dyed chestnut brown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.  This year, I will try to be successful at weight loss, or gain 10 pounds so I have a better chance at the quarter million on "Biggest Looser".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.  This year, I will watch less TV, because I am too cheap to buy the converter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. This year, I won't wait for the other person to leave the bathroom first.  I will proudly exit without shame as I look them right in the eye!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  This year, I will wash my hands every time I leave the public bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  This year, I will try not to pick my teeth with my tongue, straws , credit cards or the edge of a piece of paper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  This year, I will not jerk my head away when someone catches me staring at them.  I will simply keep staring and then smile strangely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  This year, I will be kind enough to tell people when I see a whistler hanging from their nose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the number one New Years Resolution.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  This year, I will stop sniffing my hand every time I touch something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy New Year!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6995280694747901961-2374897496318261728?l=bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/feeds/2374897496318261728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6995280694747901961&amp;postID=2374897496318261728' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/2374897496318261728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/2374897496318261728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/2008/12/top-ten-new-years-resolutions.html' title='Top Ten New Years Resolutions'/><author><name>Bits from Bonnie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16144217566368309476</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SMXSlifB0EI/AAAAAAAAAAY/NzqQFefFbHU/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995280694747901961.post-4258843043573418665</id><published>2008-12-29T23:45:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-29T23:45:29.245-08:00</updated><title type='text'>bitsfrombonnie</title><content type='html'>&lt;style&gt;/* Webfetti Layout Begins Here */h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {margin:0px;}#content {width:740px;margin:0px;text-align:left;}#main {width:485px;float:left;margin:0px;}#main2 {float:left;width:100%;padding:0px;}#sidebar {width:240px;float:right;margin:0px;}body 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href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/4258843043573418665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/4258843043573418665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/2008/12/bitsfrombonnie_3167.html' title='bitsfrombonnie'/><author><name>Bits from Bonnie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16144217566368309476</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SMXSlifB0EI/AAAAAAAAAAY/NzqQFefFbHU/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995280694747901961.post-4925512283033013095</id><published>2008-12-29T16:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-30T16:19:43.467-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Mother, Our Mother</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SVlt9OM3YuI/AAAAAAAAAC4/_N-sse_bVaA/s1600-h/Picture2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 206px; height: 277px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SVlt9OM3YuI/AAAAAAAAAC4/_N-sse_bVaA/s320/Picture2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285376536247493346" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SVlu6VKty1I/AAAAAAAAADI/_blG_NT2Pos/s1600-h/Picture3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 229px; height: 294px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SVlu6VKty1I/AAAAAAAAADI/_blG_NT2Pos/s320/Picture3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285377586089544530" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" &gt;D&lt;/span&gt;ear Mother Our Mother&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;What Great Love We Share&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;You Raised Us All Five&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;With Your Love And Care&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Y&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;ou Nurtured And Guided Us&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;With Discipline And Love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;And L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;ovingly Taught Us&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Of Our God Above&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Y&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;ou Prepared Us For Life&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;And Now That We're Grown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;You Respect Our Decisions&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt; Though Some Aren't Your Own&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SVl6CM2AczI/AAAAAAAAADo/q3SIIpmfDE4/s1600-h/Picture2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 194px; height: 292px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SVl6CM2AczI/AAAAAAAAADo/q3SIIpmfDE4/s320/Picture2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285389815922062130" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SVl4zWMxypI/AAAAAAAAADg/D7VjAx6Y1oY/s1600-h/Picture4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 259px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SVl4zWMxypI/AAAAAAAAADg/D7VjAx6Y1oY/s320/Picture4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285388461223824018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;T&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;hrough Good Times And Bad Times       &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;You've Guided Us Through&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;You're Always There For Us&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;In All That We Do&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Y&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;our Patience Abounding&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Through Bad Moods And Tempers&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;You Taught Us Forgiveness&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;And To Always Remember&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SVl8W9YzfcI/AAAAAAAAAD4/MMOFNqBUSi0/s1600-h/Picture5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 285px; height: 229px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SVl8W9YzfcI/AAAAAAAAAD4/MMOFNqBUSi0/s320/Picture5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285392371573554626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;T&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;hat Our Heavenly Father&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;     Will Keep Our Love Strong&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;          And Know That He Is With Us&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Through All That Goes Wrong&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;ear Mother, Our Mother&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt; What Great Love We Share...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;You Raised Us All Five&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt; With Your Love And Care&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&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/6995280694747901961-4925512283033013095?l=bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/feeds/4925512283033013095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6995280694747901961&amp;postID=4925512283033013095' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/4925512283033013095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/4925512283033013095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/2008/12/dear-mother-our-mother.html' title='Dear Mother, Our Mother'/><author><name>Bits from Bonnie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16144217566368309476</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SMXSlifB0EI/AAAAAAAAAAY/NzqQFefFbHU/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SVlt9OM3YuI/AAAAAAAAAC4/_N-sse_bVaA/s72-c/Picture2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995280694747901961.post-6415414187126030311</id><published>2008-12-09T11:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T12:20:47.338-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Mother's Trunk</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/ST7P57xoICI/AAAAAAAAABg/M2b_e4j9HkM/s1600-h/trunk.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277884407530135586" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 292px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/ST7P57xoICI/AAAAAAAAABg/M2b_e4j9HkM/s320/trunk.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was sitting at the computer doing some work, when I heard my mother groaning behind me. I got up to get her settled in her bed, and give her a little more water before she falls back to sleep. She is bed ridden and has three broken bones from the cancer that has riddled her body. She sleeps most of the day because she is on morphine for the pain. I am thankful for every moment that I get to spend with her as she prepares for her final journey home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Memories from my childhood come rushing back to me as I take care of my mother. One such memory, is my mothers' old trunk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was a child, my parents had an old trunk in the closet. In that trunk were some old pictures, the family picture album, a few papers, my mothers' wedding dress, my dads pen striped suit, and his sailor suit from the Navy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There wasn't a lot in that old trunk, but for some reason I would be drawn back over and over again to look at those old things and my imagination would run wild. I would look at my Dads' sailor suit and think of Gene Kelly in a sailor suit dancing along with Frank Sinatra, . I remember getting in trouble for wearing his sailor pants to school once and then trying to sneak them back into the trunk.  His pin striped suit made me think of Edward G. Robinson in a gangster movie. My mothers' wedding dress made me think of Betty Grable or Katherine Hepburn in an old movie.  It was not a traditional wedding gown, it was a peach suit made of a delicate material with a belt in the middle.   I used to try it on and stand in front of the mirror seeing myself as one of those old movie queens.  I would even put on gloves and bright liptstick sometimes, and hold one of my mothers cigarettes in my hand like they did in the movies.  (that was a time when for some reason, they managed to make smoking look glamorous)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Several years ago, the trunk and all of its contents were ruined when a flood hit where it was being stored. I was so sad to hear that everything was ruined in that old trunk. It held such fun and wonderful memories for me.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Today, I still hang on to those memories and rely on them from time to time to help me get through the tough times. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I just hope that my kids have something to hang on to as wonderful memories about me, the same way I hang on to memories of my Mom, my Dad, and that old trunk.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6995280694747901961-6415414187126030311?l=bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/feeds/6415414187126030311/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6995280694747901961&amp;postID=6415414187126030311' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/6415414187126030311'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/6415414187126030311'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/2008/12/my-mothers-trunk.html' title='My Mother&apos;s Trunk'/><author><name>Bits from Bonnie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16144217566368309476</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SMXSlifB0EI/AAAAAAAAAAY/NzqQFefFbHU/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/ST7P57xoICI/AAAAAAAAABg/M2b_e4j9HkM/s72-c/trunk.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995280694747901961.post-8941328434595467238</id><published>2008-11-25T22:47:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-25T22:47:19.706-08:00</updated><title type='text'>bitsfrombonnie</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.webfetti.com/dl/index.jhtml?partner=ZKzeb032_ZKxdm011YYUS&amp;utm_campaign=wf_3d_graphic&amp;utm_source=1052519&amp;utm_medium=wf_blogger"&gt;&lt;img src="http://ak.webfetti.com/assets/3dani/1/152.gif" alt="Webfetti.com" border="0"&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img src="http://t.webfetti.com/images/nocache/tr/wf/rds/3d/bl/1052519.gif" width="160" height="18" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img style="visibility:hidden;width:0px;height:0px;" border=0 width=0 height=0 src="http://counters.gigya.com/wildfire/IMP/CXNID=2000002.0NXC/bHQ9MTIyNzY4MTk5MTY*MyZwdD*xMjI3NjgyMDMyOTM1JnA9MTU*OTQxJmQ9Jm49YmxvZ2dlciZnPTEmdD*mbz*1N2Q1MmNkMTg*Yjg*NmRiOGMxNzY2ZTQyZGQ1NjcyMg==.gif" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6995280694747901961-8941328434595467238?l=bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/feeds/8941328434595467238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6995280694747901961&amp;postID=8941328434595467238' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/8941328434595467238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/8941328434595467238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/2008/11/bitsfrombonnie.html' title='bitsfrombonnie'/><author><name>Bits from Bonnie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16144217566368309476</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SMXSlifB0EI/AAAAAAAAAAY/NzqQFefFbHU/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995280694747901961.post-2369284160010165378</id><published>2008-11-25T12:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-25T12:57:52.867-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas Is Coming!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SSxmgdz_WnI/AAAAAAAAABY/82gp4VlbQRU/s1600-h/Christmas.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272701971688544882" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 206px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SSxmgdz_WnI/AAAAAAAAABY/82gp4VlbQRU/s320/Christmas.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was raised to have a full understanding of the words, "It's the thought that counts!". My parents raised five of us with a very limited income. Parents didn't spend a fortune back then to make Christmas special, they didn't have it to spend.  The only way they had to make Christmas feel special back then, was to leave crumbs and an empty glass on the counter, and then go outside to jingle bells and shout "HO HO HO, Merry Christmas!!!".  And for some reason, we were always more exited than you can imagine!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was back in a time when neighbors strung lights across to connect with each others homes, and at least 3 houses had speakers rigged to play Holiday music for all of the passers by to hear. Every now and then, you would have to go in and move the needle because the neighbor informed you that they just heard the same line about 200 times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moms made homemade cookies to serve throughout December and somehow managed to sew a complete wardrobe for you without you finding out. Kids put cloves in oranges and made handmade ornaments that always had their school picture on it somewhere. For some reason, families just went out together from house to house singing carols. The school Christmas program actually had songs about the birth of Christ!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was the one time of the year that everyone joined together and were truly thankful for all they had, even though it was not much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe the change we need in America, is to go back to a time when we worked hard for little, and appreciated a lot!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6995280694747901961-2369284160010165378?l=bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/feeds/2369284160010165378/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6995280694747901961&amp;postID=2369284160010165378' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/2369284160010165378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/2369284160010165378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/2008/11/christmas-is-coming.html' title='Christmas Is Coming!'/><author><name>Bits from Bonnie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16144217566368309476</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SMXSlifB0EI/AAAAAAAAAAY/NzqQFefFbHU/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SSxmgdz_WnI/AAAAAAAAABY/82gp4VlbQRU/s72-c/Christmas.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995280694747901961.post-4529605657757453419</id><published>2008-11-05T13:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-05T13:46:21.623-08:00</updated><title type='text'>THE FOLLOWING POST WILL BE FUNNY!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6995280694747901961-4529605657757453419?l=bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/feeds/4529605657757453419/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6995280694747901961&amp;postID=4529605657757453419' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/4529605657757453419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/4529605657757453419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/2008/11/following-post-will-be-funny.html' title='THE FOLLOWING POST WILL BE FUNNY!'/><author><name>Bits from Bonnie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16144217566368309476</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SMXSlifB0EI/AAAAAAAAAAY/NzqQFefFbHU/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995280694747901961.post-4694798812892943223</id><published>2008-11-04T08:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-04T10:19:10.544-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Yesterday</title><content type='html'>Just yesterday, I could hear my mom yelling "Bonnie and Billy, get your butt's home right now!!!" as we played outside with our friends after dark.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just yesterday, I was wearing a plaid skirt with a striped top because I didn't listen when my mom said, "If it's not in the hamper, it won't get washed!".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just yesterday, my mom split a band candy bar between five kids because we couldn't afford to buy one for each child, but we all loved that candy bar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just yesterday, my mom was coming in the front door from work and saying, "I can hear that stereo all the way down the street!".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just yesterday, my mom was sitting with me at FIDM, to discuss going to College, and saying, "If this is where you want to go to school, I am there for you!".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just yesterday, we all drove to the chapel in the rain, and mom cried as dad gave me away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just yesterday, mom gave me five receiving blankets and said, "I made them bigger so they will last a little longer for the baby!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just yesterday, mom was holding me as we stood at my husbands funeral.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just yesterday, I was holding mom as we stood at my Dad's funeral.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just yesterday, I found out that my mom has cancer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just yesterday, I cried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just yesterday, I smiled when I thought of all my yesterdays with mom.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6995280694747901961-4694798812892943223?l=bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/feeds/4694798812892943223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6995280694747901961&amp;postID=4694798812892943223' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/4694798812892943223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/4694798812892943223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/2008/11/just-yesterday.html' title='Just Yesterday'/><author><name>Bits from Bonnie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16144217566368309476</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SMXSlifB0EI/AAAAAAAAAAY/NzqQFefFbHU/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995280694747901961.post-3817308294485513353</id><published>2008-11-02T22:06:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-02T22:06:03.344-08:00</updated><title type='text'>family matters</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://webfetti.smileycentral.com/download/index.jhtml?partner=ZKzeb032_ZKxdm011YYUS&amp;utm_campaign=wf_3d_graphic&amp;utm_source=1170214&amp;utm_medium=wf_blogger"&gt;&lt;img src="http://ak.webfetti.com/assets/3dani/1/531.gif" alt="Webfetti.com" border="0"&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img src="http://t.webfetti.com/images/nocache/tr/wf/rds/3d/bl/1170214.gif" width="160" height="18" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img style="visibility:hidden;width:0px;height:0px;" border=0 width=0 height=0 src="http://counters.gigya.com/wildfire/IMP/CXNID=2000002.0NXC/bHQ9MTIyNTY5MjMxNzg4MCZwdD*xMjI1NjkyMzUxNTM*JnA9MTU*OTQxJmQ9Jm49YmxvZ2dlciZnPTEmdD*mbz1hZjdhZGViY2I4MTQ*OWIzYTUzZjMzYjRjYTRhZGE5Nw==.gif" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6995280694747901961-3817308294485513353?l=bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/feeds/3817308294485513353/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6995280694747901961&amp;postID=3817308294485513353' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/3817308294485513353'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/3817308294485513353'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/2008/11/family-matters.html' title='family matters'/><author><name>Bits from Bonnie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16144217566368309476</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SMXSlifB0EI/AAAAAAAAAAY/NzqQFefFbHU/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995280694747901961.post-2834757077865822749</id><published>2008-11-02T21:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-02T22:02:47.659-08:00</updated><title type='text'>DON'T LABEL ME!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia;"&gt;Don't tell me that I don't believe in women's rights just because I don't believe in abortion!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia;"&gt;Don't tell me that I'm a religious fanatic, just because I love the Lord with all of my heart!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia;"&gt;Don't tell me that who I am voting for is wrong, and chastise me for my political beliefs!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia;"&gt;Don't tell me that you think I'm too opinionated while you are beating me up with your opinions!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia;"&gt;Don't tell me that we can't disagree and still be friends!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6995280694747901961-2834757077865822749?l=bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/feeds/2834757077865822749/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6995280694747901961&amp;postID=2834757077865822749' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/2834757077865822749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/2834757077865822749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/2008/11/dont-label-me.html' title='DON&apos;T LABEL ME!!!'/><author><name>Bits from Bonnie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16144217566368309476</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SMXSlifB0EI/AAAAAAAAAAY/NzqQFefFbHU/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995280694747901961.post-6499288008505127840</id><published>2008-11-02T21:37:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-02T21:37:44.303-08:00</updated><title type='text'>family values</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://webfetti.smileycentral.com/download/index.jhtml?partner=ZKzeb032_ZKxdm011YYUS&amp;utm_campaign=wf_3d_graphic&amp;utm_source=1170151&amp;utm_medium=wf_blogger"&gt;&lt;img src="http://ak.webfetti.com/assets/3dani/1/493.gif" alt="Webfetti.com" border="0"&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img src="http://t.webfetti.com/images/nocache/tr/wf/rds/3d/bl/1170151.gif" width="160" height="18" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img style="visibility:hidden;width:0px;height:0px;" border=0 width=0 height=0 src="http://counters.gigya.com/wildfire/IMP/CXNID=2000002.0NXC/bHQ9MTIyNTY5MDQyMTk2MCZwdD*xMjI1NjkwNjU5NzQwJnA9MTU*OTQxJmQ9Jm49YmxvZ2dlciZnPTEmdD*mbz1hZjdhZGViY2I4MTQ*OWIzYTUzZjMzYjRjYTRhZGE5Nw==.gif" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6995280694747901961-6499288008505127840?l=bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/feeds/6499288008505127840/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6995280694747901961&amp;postID=6499288008505127840' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/6499288008505127840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/6499288008505127840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/2008/11/family-values.html' title='family values'/><author><name>Bits from Bonnie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16144217566368309476</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SMXSlifB0EI/AAAAAAAAAAY/NzqQFefFbHU/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995280694747901961.post-8539243343570086136</id><published>2008-10-26T22:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-26T22:25:55.620-07:00</updated><title type='text'>bitsfrombonnie</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://webfetti.smileycentral.com/download/index.jhtml?partner=ZKzeb034_ZKxdm011YYUS&amp;utm_campaign=wf_flash_smiley&amp;utm_source=10029120&amp;utm_medium=wf_blogger"&gt;&lt;object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowScriptAccess="always" width="100" height="120" align="middle" data="http://plugin.smileycentral.com/http%253A%252F%252Fsmileys.smileycentral.com%252Fcat%252FF%252Ftransport.swf%253Fcode%253DF%252F0%252F217%2526partner%253DZKzeb010%255FZKxdm011YYUS%2526curl%253Dhttp%253A%252F%252Fwebfetti%252Esmileycentral%252Ecom%252Fdownload%252Findex%252Ejhtml/transport.swf"&gt;&lt;param 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src="http://counters.gigya.com/wildfire/IMP/CXNID=2000002.0NXC/bHQ9MTIyNTA4NTA2NTE4NyZwdD*xMjI1MDg1MTA4MDM*JnA9MTU*OTQxJmQ9Jm49YmxvZ2dlciZnPTEmdD*mbz1hZjdhZGViY2I4MTQ*OWIzYTUzZjMzYjRjYTRhZGE5Nw==.gif" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6995280694747901961-8539243343570086136?l=bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/feeds/8539243343570086136/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6995280694747901961&amp;postID=8539243343570086136' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/8539243343570086136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/8539243343570086136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/2008/10/bitsfrombonnie_26.html' title='bitsfrombonnie'/><author><name>Bits from Bonnie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16144217566368309476</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SMXSlifB0EI/AAAAAAAAAAY/NzqQFefFbHU/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995280694747901961.post-214335751149492213</id><published>2008-10-26T22:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-26T22:22:22.380-07:00</updated><title type='text'>bitsfrombonnie</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://webfetti.smileycentral.com/download/index.jhtml?partner=ZKzeb071_ZKxdm011YYUS&amp;utm_campaign=wf_flash_toys&amp;utm_source=10028314&amp;utm_medium=wf_blogger"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;embed src="http://ak.webfetti.com/assets/toys/F/221.swf" loop="true" quality="best" bgcolor="#ffffff" width="325" height="244" flashvars="" name="transport" align="middle" allowScriptAccess="always" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" wmode="transparent" &gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img src="http://t.webfetti.com/images/nocache/tr/wf/rds/ft/bl/10028314.gif" width="160" height="18" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img style="visibility:hidden;width:0px;height:0px;" border=0 width=0 height=0 src="http://counters.gigya.com/wildfire/IMP/CXNID=2000002.11NXC/bHQ9MTIyNTA4NDg5MjgyNSZwdD*xMjI1MDg*OTM2ODMyJnA9MTU*OTQxJmQ9Jm49YmxvZ2dlciZnPTEmdD*=.gif" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6995280694747901961-214335751149492213?l=bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/feeds/214335751149492213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6995280694747901961&amp;postID=214335751149492213' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/214335751149492213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/214335751149492213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/2008/10/bitsfrombonnie.html' title='bitsfrombonnie'/><author><name>Bits from Bonnie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16144217566368309476</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SMXSlifB0EI/AAAAAAAAAAY/NzqQFefFbHU/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995280694747901961.post-2034469667967018662</id><published>2008-10-07T11:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-07T13:15:10.695-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Angels in the Outfield!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SOunlkbtwQI/AAAAAAAAABQ/kLkiIwR-QmQ/s1600-h/angels+logo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SOunlkbtwQI/AAAAAAAAABQ/kLkiIwR-QmQ/s320/angels+logo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254477654134735106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A turbulent October has brought the Angels reign of power, to a cruel and painful end! Did we loose because the Red Sox were just a better team? I don't think so!  Was it because we lost our mental game  long before Shields threw his final pitch?  Maybe!  Sometimes, being so far ahead ads more pressure.  It's a given that the farther ahead of the league you are, the more you are expected to win.  So this brings me to the conclusion that bringing excellent talent to the Angels is not enough.  We need to make sure that they have the mental game under their belt next year.   With that in mind, I wrote this little poem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Angels are my favorite team&lt;br /&gt;I'm a true and devoted fan!&lt;br /&gt;And though the series was my dream&lt;br /&gt;I'll just have to wait again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cheered them on through every win&lt;br /&gt;As our team became the best!&lt;br /&gt;With the winning streak that they were in&lt;br /&gt;Way out in front of the rest&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was hard to believe their streak would end&lt;br /&gt;With Vladdy, Teixeira, and Tori&lt;br /&gt;We all thought they would take each win&lt;br /&gt;There was  no cause for worry&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But alas, the Red Sox killed our dream&lt;br /&gt;I'm completely and totally stunned&lt;br /&gt;Considering what I spent for every game&lt;br /&gt;I think you owe me a big fat refund!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your devoted fan!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6995280694747901961-2034469667967018662?l=bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/feeds/2034469667967018662/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6995280694747901961&amp;postID=2034469667967018662' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/2034469667967018662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/2034469667967018662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/2008/10/angels-in-outfield.html' title='Angels in the Outfield!'/><author><name>Bits from Bonnie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16144217566368309476</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SMXSlifB0EI/AAAAAAAAAAY/NzqQFefFbHU/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SOunlkbtwQI/AAAAAAAAABQ/kLkiIwR-QmQ/s72-c/angels+logo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995280694747901961.post-5809782434391385043</id><published>2008-09-27T08:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-27T08:34:26.167-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sushi Ate Out And Got Sick</title><content type='html'>Yesterday, my daughter and I go out for lunch at a Sushi Bar.  Bad Idea!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I don't claim to be an expert on sushi, but I don't think it should take a long time to get your lunch when they don't even have to cook it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After waiting at least 15 minutes, the waiter finally comes over to introduce himself.  We place our order and wait about another 20 minutes or so until he comes back over and apologizes to us and says that they are out of one of the dishes that we have ordered.   After quickly changing out mind, we wait quite awhile longer until our lunch finally comes to us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lunch was very good, so we decided to take a chance on dessert.  Again, we wait awhile until the server comes back over and lets us know that they are out of our dessert.  So we changed out order and waited another 15 minutes for the new dessert.  Cinnamon deep fried ice cream with a chocolate drizzle.  Sounds great doesn't it?  Until I looked down and what I thought was a clump of deep fried mixture, at closer inspection was actually a shrimp tail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I called the waiter over and again he &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;apologized&lt;/span&gt; profusely for shrimp in our plate, and the took it away immediately.  We told him to just bring the check.  Again we waited for awhile before he came back with the ticket.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During that time, we were sure he was talking to the manager about doing something for us after all of the problems we had trying to get a nice lunch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You will be happy to know that when the waiter came back.  He assured us that the dessert was taken off of our bill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So if anyone out there wants SUSHI, "RA SUSHI BAR", in Tustin, does not charge for the extra shrimp tail if you get one in your dessert.  And, they are out of most of their entree's by noon!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Slum it and have a greasy cheeseburger instead!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6995280694747901961-5809782434391385043?l=bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/feeds/5809782434391385043/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6995280694747901961&amp;postID=5809782434391385043' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/5809782434391385043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/5809782434391385043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/2008/09/sushi-ate-out-and-got-sick.html' title='Sushi Ate Out And Got Sick'/><author><name>Bits from Bonnie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16144217566368309476</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SMXSlifB0EI/AAAAAAAAAAY/NzqQFefFbHU/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995280694747901961.post-5584539327002540457</id><published>2008-09-19T10:35:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-19T16:09:59.587-07:00</updated><title type='text'>HGTV Is Addicting</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SNQwcV8rnyI/AAAAAAAAABI/9w-UCxqNCZY/s1600-h/Carter-Oosterhouse_Bio_w190.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247872729279602466" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SNQwcV8rnyI/AAAAAAAAABI/9w-UCxqNCZY/s320/Carter-Oosterhouse_Bio_w190.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I get a lot of Friday's off from work, and today I am home catching up on things I didn't get around to, during my busy week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In between homework, test taking, practicing songs for choir and worship team, housework, and taking Mandy to lunch, I sat down to watch a little HGTV.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have decided that I know what is so addicting about HGTV. Although it is very exiting to see how you can completely change a house without spending a fortune, there is one thing that brings women back over and over again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;CARTER OOSTERHOUSE!!! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I totally get it!!! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The man is HOT!!! He's 6'2", People Magazine featured him in the 2003 "Sexiest Men Alive" edition, and he knows how to freakin fix things!!! Could anyone ask for anything more in a man???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where was he when I was that young and that single? They would be featuring me as the wife of the sexiest man alive in People if he were around back in the day. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Women tune in to HGTV to see him in action. They tune in all of the time hoping that he might even pop up in a commercial. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;DO YOU BLAME THEM??? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Well, I'm not so old that I don't appreciate real beauty when I see it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;So the up side to the addiction is that you might actually learn something about doing some handy work around the house or designing a nice living space. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;He is the reason so many women say, "Carter Can!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;It's a total win, win situation!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6995280694747901961-5584539327002540457?l=bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/feeds/5584539327002540457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6995280694747901961&amp;postID=5584539327002540457' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/5584539327002540457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/5584539327002540457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/2008/09/hgtv-is-addicting.html' title='HGTV Is Addicting'/><author><name>Bits from Bonnie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16144217566368309476</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SMXSlifB0EI/AAAAAAAAAAY/NzqQFefFbHU/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SNQwcV8rnyI/AAAAAAAAABI/9w-UCxqNCZY/s72-c/Carter-Oosterhouse_Bio_w190.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995280694747901961.post-7326936358654491167</id><published>2008-09-19T10:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-19T11:15:22.926-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Is it Car Trouble Again???</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"&gt;A few days ago, I was rushing to a retirement party for someone at our sister campus. I knew that the whatever fumes I had left in my car, would not get me all the way there so I stopped on the way to the party to get some gas. I was just leaving the gas station, when I get a call on my bluetooth from my boss to again, lettting me know that he would be running late to the party. Up to that point, I had the music cranked up in the car and the air blasting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I turned down the radio and the air and took the call. When I was done talking to my boss, I happened to hear a banging sound at the back of the car. My first thought was, "Hmmm, What's that sound?"...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I then did what we all do when we hear a strange noise in our cars. I kept the radio down and listened more intently. For awhile, it was quiet, but then I heard it again. I thought for a moment that it might be the vacuum I had sitting at the back of the SUV. But it did not seem to be that kind of a noise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, all of the thoughts start rushing through my head. Maybe the engine that I had replaced over a year ago is going out already. Maybe it is the transmission. What if it is a really expensive problem that I just can't afford to fix? God must be telling me to get the brakes checked out on my mothers car and start driving it instead. Each fear got bigger and bigger!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was a mess! I was getting more and more worried about my car!!! Almost to the point of tears. So, I decided that when I got to work, I would call my mechanic and see if I could get the car in for an appointment to check it out and pray for the best. Once I had made that commitment, I drove to work, got out of my car, heard a friend behind me say "Good Morning!", and as I turned to say "Hi", noticed that my gas cap was dangling outside the gas tank. That was the culprit for all of my needless worry!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to stop for a moment and think about how carried away I got with worrying about the unknown problem that I thought I had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moral: Never panic about the unknown! You can't fix what you do not understand!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6995280694747901961-7326936358654491167?l=bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/feeds/7326936358654491167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6995280694747901961&amp;postID=7326936358654491167' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/7326936358654491167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/7326936358654491167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/2008/09/is-it-car-trouble-again.html' title='Is it Car Trouble Again???'/><author><name>Bits from Bonnie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16144217566368309476</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SMXSlifB0EI/AAAAAAAAAAY/NzqQFefFbHU/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995280694747901961.post-8659129410815222595</id><published>2008-09-07T20:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-13T13:17:05.673-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Profiles</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I have toyed with the idea of going into a singles website and seeing who is out there with the same interests as I have. My problem is, that I tried that a few years ago when I was single before, and it was disastrous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's hard to find someone that is being totally honest in one of those sites. And it's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;understandable&lt;/span&gt;. It's hard for anyone to be totally honest in those sites. You have to sit down and actually describe yourself in black and white. Everything from your body type to your religious beliefs. And you have to go through the torture of finding just the right picture that is flattering to you. No picture, usually means "You don't really want to know what I look like!".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Now back to the body type. I'm sorry, but it is very hard to be completely honest about your body. After all, most women rely on black pants, girdles and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;spanx&lt;/span&gt; to give the illusion of being at least 10 lbs thinner. We shade our faces just right to make our noses look shorter, and to make our cheeks look thinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;We wax, pluck, shave, lotion, dye, lift and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;separate&lt;/span&gt;, just to give the illusion of having natural beauty! Now why would anyone in their right mind expect someone who is willing to go through all that, to do something silly like tell the truth about their weight???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you know a woman who's license tells the truth about her weight? I want to meet her!!! I don't think she exists. Heck, the picture from my old license looks better than the new one, so I still keep it in my wallet. And I have pulled it out before. The clerk didn't even notice that it was out of date. I don't look that thin or that young! Should I throw it away??? No way!!! It gives me some sort of sick comfort to have it in my wallet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Men do things like that too. How many times have you seen that a guy says that he is athletic and yet he looks like the only part of his body that gets a work out is his right arm on it's way to his mouth with food. Men also like to lie about their income. The ones that don't have it, love to say they are in the higher income ranges. It's hard to fool a woman when you pull up in your 95' Ford Taurus and you have white socks on with your dress slacks!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like the guy I met once who said that he likes to look good for a woman and smell nice. First of all, when I got to Starbucks, I could smell your Old Spice all the way to the door. And looking nice includes the grill!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess there have been a few success stories from the internet however, I am a bit paranoid about finding true love in a website. I will trust God to bring the right man to me if it is to happen again. After all, he did a great job when he brought the last one to me. I think he really is the best match maker out there!!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6995280694747901961-8659129410815222595?l=bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/feeds/8659129410815222595/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6995280694747901961&amp;postID=8659129410815222595' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/8659129410815222595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/8659129410815222595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/2008/09/profiles.html' title='Profiles'/><author><name>Bits from Bonnie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16144217566368309476</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SMXSlifB0EI/AAAAAAAAAAY/NzqQFefFbHU/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995280694747901961.post-2119180625534097813</id><published>2008-09-02T21:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-13T13:15:57.703-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You're No Elvis!</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;It's really hard to be a great Elvis impersonator! Every year another pathetic Elvis impersonator tries to get noticed on shows like America's Got Talent. They insist on giving us their version of the King by butchering yet another great song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was only one King, and unless you have fully embraced him, you cannot be the King! The King was one of a kind. He was unique and no one sounded or acted like him. That is why he became bigger than life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Very few have successfully performed his act. Very few are able to look like Elvis. Very few step into his persona and become Elvis! It is something that people should not attempt without being totally prepared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It had to be said. I hope we all have learned something from this!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YOU'RE NO ELVIS!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6995280694747901961-2119180625534097813?l=bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/feeds/2119180625534097813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6995280694747901961&amp;postID=2119180625534097813' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/2119180625534097813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/2119180625534097813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/2008/09/youre-no-elvis.html' title='You&apos;re No Elvis!'/><author><name>Bits from Bonnie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16144217566368309476</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SMXSlifB0EI/AAAAAAAAAAY/NzqQFefFbHU/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995280694747901961.post-4634646586049608954</id><published>2008-08-30T22:35:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-13T13:16:21.731-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How Did I Get Here???</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I am going to be 55 this year! Now if this had happened about 5 years ago, it would be pretty cool. I was single then too, but shall we say....I was a little more on the hottie side. I was always mistaken for being much younger and I could do just about anything. But these days, not so much!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it all happened so fast!!! It's kind of like when you go somewhere that you've been to a thousand times, but this time you can't remember passing one familiar landmark on the way. This is the year that the senior discount becomes official. AARP is harrassing me with their annoying advertisements, and phrases that only my mother used to say, keep finding their way into my conversations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't change one thing about my life. I love my family and friends, I have had two husbands that I loved dearly, I love my Church, and I love where I work. I just wish I were waiting a little longer to reach this milestone in my life!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WAIT!!! What am I thinking??? It's not like I'm gonna grow up or anything anyway! I'll be fine. Besides, Mandy turns 40 in 8 years. I need to be a good example and be strong!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bring it on 55!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6995280694747901961-4634646586049608954?l=bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/feeds/4634646586049608954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6995280694747901961&amp;postID=4634646586049608954' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/4634646586049608954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/4634646586049608954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/2008/08/how-did-i-get-here.html' title='How Did I Get Here???'/><author><name>Bits from Bonnie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16144217566368309476</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SMXSlifB0EI/AAAAAAAAAAY/NzqQFefFbHU/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6995280694747901961.post-2505304392508640890</id><published>2008-08-24T19:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-13T13:16:43.200-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Commitment</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Today was fan appreciation day at Angel Stadium! Now for those of you who might not have as deep an appreciation for baseball as my family, fan appreciation day is like walking down the red carpet right beside your favorite movie star at the Oscars. It is the one day of the year that you get to see your favorite players and some of them even pose for pictures with you. The other great part of being so close to the players is seeing the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;excitement&lt;/span&gt; my son 'n' law shows when he sees them coming. As the players come onto the field, he &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;giggles&lt;/span&gt; like a little girl and gives the play by play of which player is getting closer. He truly reminds me of Doug &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Heffernen&lt;/span&gt; from &lt;em&gt;King of Queens.&lt;/em&gt; He's nervous, exited and giddy and as they get closer he gives a nod, winks and says "Hey bro, how ya &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;doin&lt;/span&gt;?" As soon as the players pass by, he turns to his brother and says, "Dude! Did you see that? He said Hi to me!".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I digress! The theme of this blog is "Commitment", and I learned today just what commitment is all about. As we all sat up in the nose bleed section,cheering on the Angels and praying for a win, things were not going so well down on the field. By the 6th inning, the Twins had 3 runs against only 1 run for the Angels. Those of little faith, started leaving so they would not have to witness the impending loss. By the 7th inning stretch, we too decided that things didn't look very good for the Angels. Although the Angels managed to get one more run, we all made a decision to leave at the end of the 7th inning. As true blue Angel fans, the thought of watching them loose from the stands is unberrable!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we all left the stadium in a state of denial, we tuned into the game on the car radio. Unbelievably, Big Daddy Vladdy hits a three bagger in the 8th right after we left I might ad, to tie up the score. Then the clencher. Gary Matthews Jr. hits a 3 run RBI to win the game! And we all screemed with excitement from a crowded SUV on the freeway home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what is the lesson? Commitment is sticking with something or someone through good and bad. Applauding their successes and being there for them through their losses. The Angels came through with their commitment even when many lost their faith. But many of us fans did not do our part. There is a price you pay if you are the driver. Regardless of who's idea it is to leave, everyone blames the driver when they miss the comeback of the day!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To summarize:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cost of an Angel ticket in the nose bleed section - $12.00&lt;br /&gt;Cost for a cold Panda Bowl and soda at the game - $15.00&lt;br /&gt;Cost of watching my son 'n' law act like a star struck fan - Priceless!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6995280694747901961-2505304392508640890?l=bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/feeds/2505304392508640890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6995280694747901961&amp;postID=2505304392508640890' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/2505304392508640890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6995280694747901961/posts/default/2505304392508640890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsfrombonnie.blogspot.com/2008/08/commitment.html' title='Commitment'/><author><name>Bits from Bonnie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16144217566368309476</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_abNXuWyFXns/SMXSlifB0EI/AAAAAAAAAAY/NzqQFefFbHU/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
