<?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-1325928985500901404</id><updated>2011-10-30T19:24:45.075-07:00</updated><category term='mothering'/><category term='kentuckiana'/><title type='text'>Through the Looking Glass...</title><subtitle type='html'>"Contrariwise,if it was so, it might be; and if it were so, it would be; but as it isn't, it ain't. That's logic."</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>79</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-8071142078561819589</id><published>2011-02-01T19:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-01T19:35:38.848-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cha Cha Cha Changes</title><content type='html'>So this is new and different for me.&lt;br /&gt;Ryan and I did our taxes and we are getting a rather large chunk of change back. I guess we finally made so little money that the government took pity on us and gave it all back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now you know me. I like expensive things. I love to buy stuff.&lt;br /&gt;Ryan loves to travel. And of course, why would I not love it too?&lt;br /&gt;And so with our grand chunk of change you know what we are doing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I feel no desire to buy clothes or shoes ( I have no occasion to wear them.) He can't part with the money to take a trip.&lt;br /&gt;For the first time in my life, I might actually have money in my savings account.&lt;br /&gt;Not just for a minute either. Like an actual savings account.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ryan says its a mark that were maturing.&lt;br /&gt;I think were just growing old.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-8071142078561819589?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/8071142078561819589/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=8071142078561819589' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/8071142078561819589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/8071142078561819589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2011/02/cha-cha-cha-changes.html' title='Cha Cha Cha Changes'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-8950670612182719603</id><published>2011-01-26T18:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-26T18:17:28.218-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The need to bust  my butt... or lack there of.</title><content type='html'>I am not a gym person. I despise gyms.&lt;br /&gt;I dont like people who run for 35 minutes on a treadmill and glisten beautifully all the while.&lt;br /&gt;I dont like that everyone can see you while you work out.&lt;br /&gt;I dont like that im paranoid that everyone else is watching and judging my work out.&lt;br /&gt;I dont like working out.&lt;br /&gt;Most of all, I hate motivating myself to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I find myself inexplicably drawn to the gym.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like the idea of having a gym.&lt;br /&gt;I like the idea of working out before facing the day.&lt;br /&gt;I like the idea that no body really talks to you at the gym.&lt;br /&gt;I like the idea that going to the gym and working out can offset the thing I really like...&lt;br /&gt;I like to eat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my musing. I am not going to delve into the deep psychosocial factors that draw women to be thin, or men to be muscled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want to eat more and feel less guilty.&lt;br /&gt;And to be just the tiniest bit more bendy. *wink*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-8950670612182719603?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/8950670612182719603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=8950670612182719603' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/8950670612182719603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/8950670612182719603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2011/01/need-to-bust-my-butt-or-lack-there-of.html' title='The need to bust  my butt... or lack there of.'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-886802027858899466</id><published>2010-12-29T20:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-29T20:13:13.047-08:00</updated><title type='text'>$30 Bills....</title><content type='html'>Today, I was at work (not my store, a store closer to a bad neighborhood) and this lady comes in to get some prescriptions. Now her prescriptions were five dollars mind you. And she had a Snuggie and a bottle of Jim Beam. And couldnt find $5 to pay for her prescriptions much less all of the above. And she's hunting in purse and pocket to find some money then she says and I quote "I have a twenty dollar bill and a thirty dollar bill and now I cant find either."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now when I was younger, I didnt know they didnt make five-hundred dollar bills. I mean, why would I have, I had never seen $5o0 in my life, much less all in one bill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this is different. This woman was grown. And under the influence. Of what I am not exactly sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I have to wonder... What makes people do this? I mean, I have been drunk. And I understand the social drinking. I understand having a couple to unwind at the end of a day. But I have never wanted to be out of control of my senses. On purpose. But this woman lost a thirty dollar bill. In the middle of the day. I just dont know...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-886802027858899466?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/886802027858899466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=886802027858899466' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/886802027858899466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/886802027858899466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2010/12/30-bills.html' title='$30 Bills....'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-212995877550615827</id><published>2010-12-08T21:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-08T21:18:08.383-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Go Directly to Jail</title><content type='html'>So today we went to the County Corrections facility with our OTA program. The idea is that "Leisure" is an area of life that this particular population could use improvement in. Positive leisure if I may.&lt;br /&gt;So we went. And we made hemp bracelets.&lt;br /&gt;And it was strange. The participants were eager, polite and pleasant.&lt;br /&gt;I have to go back in the spring. And I need a an idea. A crafty thing that we can do. That involves no sharp objects.&lt;br /&gt;And Im actually looking forward to it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-212995877550615827?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/212995877550615827/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=212995877550615827' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/212995877550615827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/212995877550615827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2010/12/go-directly-to-jail.html' title='Go Directly to Jail'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-6328906723124219011</id><published>2010-12-06T19:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-06T19:45:42.415-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Look in the Glass...</title><content type='html'>Reflection.&lt;br /&gt;Its supposed to be a good thing right?&lt;br /&gt;Not your reflection in the glass, although, most days, I dont think thats half bad.&lt;br /&gt;Im talking about reflection on your life.&lt;br /&gt;I was just reading on a friends blog about an aspiration she has and what has or hasn't come of that desire.&lt;br /&gt;So I look back too. The semester is coming to a close and my life is changing yet again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is what I have to say so far about this semester:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Positives:&lt;br /&gt;I have learned so much about Occupational Therapy, I am really excited about where its going to take me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have worked full time and gone to school full time and have nothing lower than a B.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was voted class president for our Student OT group. - Based purely on my ability to speak well in public I am sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I continued to serve Meals on Wheels regularly despite a very full schedule.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I volunteered for a research project at school and applied for a grant with my teammates to continue its research. Its about improving the lives of people in nursing homes. Thats worthwhile right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Negatives:&lt;br /&gt;So many other areas in my life have suffered due to my schedule:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have only read two books outside of school this entire semester. (I am not counting re-reading HP)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Martha Stewart I am not. My house is gross. Ryan has had to do his own laundry several times because he had no socks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still have yet to start exercising. Free gym membership at school. I have never been once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still don't have an friends in this bleeding state. I mean, there are a couple I know, and I couple I hang out with, but nothing close to companionship.&lt;br /&gt;(this probably has less to do with my schedule than my general personality)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what does this mean? Whats the total of my life for the last 6 months? What have I accomplished? What difference have I made?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when on Earth will I find the time to do anything about it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-6328906723124219011?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/6328906723124219011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=6328906723124219011' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/6328906723124219011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/6328906723124219011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2010/12/look-in-glass.html' title='A Look in the Glass...'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-4807374040858319251</id><published>2010-11-26T22:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-26T22:08:36.333-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Its funny the word home. What does it mean? Dictionary.com says its a persons dwelling, house apartment etc.&lt;br /&gt;But it also says a persons native place.&lt;br /&gt;My favorite by far is the one that says a destination or goal.&lt;br /&gt;Heather Lee said something to me today about being at home. I was confused because I thought I was. But then she meant Eville. I mean, that is where I live, but is that my home. I understand what the Bible says about longing for home.&lt;br /&gt;Driving these streets is soothing to my soul. This is where my life is. So where is my home.&lt;br /&gt;Home is where you hang  your hat. Home is where my love lives.&lt;br /&gt;But home is not where I am. Apparently. Ever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-4807374040858319251?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/4807374040858319251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=4807374040858319251' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/4807374040858319251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/4807374040858319251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2010/11/its-funny-word-home.html' title=''/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-7994786184024286288</id><published>2010-10-27T06:04:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-27T06:08:02.591-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The life and times....</title><content type='html'>Does anyone else feel like they are old? I have noticed more and more my body is letting me down. I mean 30 is not so old on the grand scheme of things. But I cant imagine if things are changing this drastically at this age what they will be like when I am 60.&lt;br /&gt;I mean my eyes are going. I shouldnt be surprised at this. Both my mother and my father wear glasses. But I am really annoyed that I cant read street signs anymore. Or even the board in the front of the class from time to time.&lt;br /&gt;Also, I am tired. All the time. I dont remember ever really being tired until now. I mean sure, if I stayed up until 4, sure. But not because I stayed up to 11!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-7994786184024286288?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/7994786184024286288/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=7994786184024286288' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/7994786184024286288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/7994786184024286288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2010/10/life-and-times.html' title='The life and times....'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-4903544255155027365</id><published>2010-10-13T17:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-13T17:29:55.414-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Becoming</title><content type='html'>You ever think about the people who have made you who you are?&lt;br /&gt;I am eternally nostalgic because I fail to update my music collection and like most females I am emotionally tied to the soundtrack of my life.&lt;br /&gt;Right now I have been listening to the Dresden Dolls repeatedly. I would not necessarily recommend them to anyone else, but they speak to me. Something in that womans writing resonates with me. Her attitude, her fierceness, her carelessness.&lt;br /&gt;She wants to be careless. To experience life through mistakes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think about the mistakes I have made in my life. Most of them (other than the debt) I would not trade. The people I have loved (although I think I could have done without the gay guy) , the friends I have loved and lost, the opportunities I took and fell on my face. I am grateful for all of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been wanting to blog for a while about closure. About that time when you know a chapter of you life is over and what made you move one. Like the day you were no longer crushed by someone else's opinion. Or the moment you realize the man you loved for so long is not as great as you always thought. And how you move on. But I have not been able to. I have not moved on. I am not able to say that I have passed it. I suppose some wounds will never heal. Or maybe its just that you always have the scars. I am able to say that I have been changed. I can easily see the threads that have woven me being into the woman I am today. And I want to say someday that the truth of anatomy is the truth of my being.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The scars are the strongest part.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-4903544255155027365?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/4903544255155027365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=4903544255155027365' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/4903544255155027365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/4903544255155027365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2010/10/becoming.html' title='Becoming'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-7374742576870651590</id><published>2010-08-22T19:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-22T19:22:39.639-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dress for Success...</title><content type='html'>So on my Google homepage today there is  this WikiHow:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.wikihow.com/Be-a-Glamorous-1940s-Femme-Fatale&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I go on, let me say, I love WikiHow. I love the idea of a daily how to improve or change your life. I love the idea of a small step by step guide on how to be new or different. I love Wikipedia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do not love the idea of people actually trying to dress like its the 194os everyday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dont get me wrong. If theres a thing, I will be the first one to donn the duds. Ask around. This chica does not need an excuse for a get up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this particular how to lists a couple of must haves that I simply cannot support.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Number one: Ditch your jeans. - And do the house work in what? Your skivvys?? This is not Stepford.&lt;br /&gt;Number two:  Donn a marlin spike. - Unless it is October 31, i dont think so.&lt;br /&gt;Number three: Wrap yourself in fur - I say, if you are going the Golden Corral, you can leave the fur coat at home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess my point is this, I am all about women looking feminine. I am trying to add more dresses to my wardrobe rotation. Looking pretty makes you feel good about yourself and towards the world.&lt;br /&gt;If you want to adopt some of the more classic looks from the 40s (black eye liner, red lipstick, dark hair, chic clothes) I am all about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just have to tell you Wiki, if you were a chick and I saw you in Evansville in an evening gown at the local walmart. I would have to mock and jeer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-7374742576870651590?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/7374742576870651590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=7374742576870651590' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/7374742576870651590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/7374742576870651590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2010/08/dress-for-success.html' title='Dress for Success...'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-6043021989593282559</id><published>2010-08-19T20:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-19T20:55:24.648-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Where have all the Conan gone?</title><content type='html'>Heard an interesting interview on NPR the other day on my way to work. A man, a retired military man (20 years active) has written at big thing (book, essay, something) about how the use of the word HERO is overwrought in America today especially amongst the military. He went on about his theory and what not and it was an interesting perspective but what got to me was this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The definition of a hero goes something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="luna-Nested"&gt;&lt;span id="hotword"&gt;&lt;span style="cursor: default; background-color: transparent;" id="hotword" name="hotword" onmouseover="this.style.cursor='default'" onmouseout="this.style.backgroundColor='transparent'" onclick="this.style.backgroundColor='#b5d5ff';return hotWord(this);"&gt; - a&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="cursor: default; background-color: transparent;" id="hotword" name="hotword" onmouseover="this.style.cursor='default'" onmouseout="this.style.backgroundColor='transparent'" onclick="this.style.backgroundColor='#b5d5ff';return hotWord(this);"&gt;being&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="hotword" name="hotword" onmouseover="this.style.cursor='default'" onmouseout="this.style.backgroundColor='transparent'" onclick="this.style.backgroundColor='#b5d5ff';return hotWord(this);"&gt;of&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="cursor: default; background-color: transparent;" id="hotword" name="hotword" onmouseover="this.style.cursor='default'" onmouseout="this.style.backgroundColor='transparent'" onclick="this.style.backgroundColor='#b5d5ff';return hotWord(this);"&gt;godlike&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="hotword" name="hotword" onmouseover="this.style.cursor='default'" onmouseout="this.style.backgroundColor='transparent'" onclick="this.style.backgroundColor='#b5d5ff';return hotWord(this);"&gt;prowess&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="hotword" name="hotword" onmouseover="this.style.cursor='default'" onmouseout="this.style.backgroundColor='transparent'" onclick="this.style.backgroundColor='#b5d5ff';return hotWord(this);"&gt;and&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="cursor: default; background-color: transparent;" id="hotword" name="hotword" onmouseover="this.style.cursor='default'" onmouseout="this.style.backgroundColor='transparent'" onclick="this.style.backgroundColor='#b5d5ff';return hotWord(this);"&gt;beneficence&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="hotword" name="hotword" onmouseover="this.style.cursor='default'" onmouseout="this.style.backgroundColor='transparent'" onclick="this.style.backgroundColor='#b5d5ff';return hotWord(this);"&gt;who&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="hotword" name="hotword" onmouseover="this.style.cursor='default'" onmouseout="this.style.backgroundColor='transparent'" onclick="this.style.backgroundColor='#b5d5ff';return hotWord(this);"&gt;often&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="cursor: default; background-color: transparent;" id="hotword" name="hotword" onmouseover="this.style.cursor='default'" onmouseout="this.style.backgroundColor='transparent'" onclick="this.style.backgroundColor='#b5d5ff';return hotWord(this);"&gt;came&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="hotword" name="hotword" onmouseover="this.style.cursor='default'" onmouseout="this.style.backgroundColor='transparent'" onclick="this.style.backgroundColor='#b5d5ff';return hotWord(this);"&gt;to&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="hotword" name="hotword" onmouseover="this.style.cursor='default'" onmouseout="this.style.backgroundColor='transparent'" onclick="this.style.backgroundColor='#b5d5ff';return hotWord(this);"&gt;be&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="hotword" name="hotword" onmouseover="this.style.cursor='default'" onmouseout="this.style.backgroundColor='transparent'" onclick="this.style.backgroundColor='#b5d5ff';return hotWord(this);"&gt;honored&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="hotword" name="hotword" onmouseover="this.style.cursor='default'" onmouseout="this.style.backgroundColor='transparent'" onclick="this.style.backgroundColor='#b5d5ff';return hotWord(this);"&gt;as&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="hotword" name="hotword" onmouseover="this.style.cursor='default'" onmouseout="this.style.backgroundColor='transparent'" onclick="this.style.backgroundColor='#b5d5ff';return hotWord(this);"&gt;a&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="hotword" name="hotword" onmouseover="this.style.cursor='default'" onmouseout="this.style.backgroundColor='transparent'" onclick="this.style.backgroundColor='#b5d5ff';return hotWord(this);"&gt;divinity.&lt;br /&gt; -&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="hotword" name="hotword" onmouseover="this.style.cursor='default'" onmouseout="this.style.backgroundColor='transparent'" onclick="this.style.backgroundColor='#b5d5ff';return hotWord(this);"&gt; a&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="cursor: default; background-color: transparent;" id="hotword" name="hotword" onmouseover="this.style.cursor='default'" onmouseout="this.style.backgroundColor='transparent'" onclick="this.style.backgroundColor='#b5d5ff';return hotWord(this);"&gt;warrior-chieftain&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="hotword" name="hotword" onmouseover="this.style.cursor='default'" onmouseout="this.style.backgroundColor='transparent'" onclick="this.style.backgroundColor='#b5d5ff';return hotWord(this);"&gt;of&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="hotword" name="hotword" onmouseover="this.style.cursor='default'" onmouseout="this.style.backgroundColor='transparent'" onclick="this.style.backgroundColor='#b5d5ff';return hotWord(this);"&gt;special&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="cursor: default; background-color: transparent;" id="hotword" name="hotword" onmouseover="this.style.cursor='default'" onmouseout="this.style.backgroundColor='transparent'" onclick="this.style.backgroundColor='#b5d5ff';return hotWord(this);"&gt;strength,&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="cursor: default; background-color: transparent;" id="hotword" name="hotword" onmouseover="this.style.cursor='default'" onmouseout="this.style.backgroundColor='transparent'" onclick="this.style.backgroundColor='#b5d5ff';return hotWord(this);"&gt;courage,&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="hotword" name="hotword" onmouseover="this.style.cursor='default'" onmouseout="this.style.backgroundColor='transparent'" onclick="this.style.backgroundColor='#b5d5ff';return hotWord(this);"&gt;or&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="hotword" name="hotword" onmouseover="this.style.cursor='default'" onmouseout="this.style.backgroundColor='transparent'" onclick="this.style.backgroundColor='#b5d5ff';return hotWord(this);"&gt;ability&lt;br /&gt; -&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="hotword"&gt;&lt;span style="cursor: default; background-color: transparent;" id="hotword" name="hotword" onmouseover="this.style.cursor='default'" onmouseout="this.style.backgroundColor='transparent'" onclick="this.style.backgroundColor='#b5d5ff';return hotWord(this);"&gt; an&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="cursor: default; background-color: transparent;" id="hotword" name="hotword" onmouseover="this.style.cursor='default'" onmouseout="this.style.backgroundColor='transparent'" onclick="this.style.backgroundColor='#b5d5ff';return hotWord(this);"&gt;immortal&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="cursor: default; background-color: transparent;" id="hotword" name="hotword" onmouseover="this.style.cursor='default'" onmouseout="this.style.backgroundColor='transparent'" onclick="this.style.backgroundColor='#b5d5ff';return hotWord(this);"&gt;being;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="cursor: default; background-color: transparent;" id="hotword" name="hotword" onmouseover="this.style.cursor='default'" onmouseout="this.style.backgroundColor='transparent'" onclick="this.style.backgroundColor='#b5d5ff';return hotWord(this);"&gt;demigod&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we use this word today, HERO. And what does it mean? Nothing like that. It might be appropriate to say that someone acted heroically. But that someone is a Hero?&lt;br /&gt;I am always amused by the changes in words their connotations and evolutions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So why do we say that someone is a hero? Because we need them to still exist? I can't think of the last honest to God hero. Moses? Samson? The Apostles? Maybe just Jesus?&lt;br /&gt;Is this one of those attempts to believe there is a little divinity in all of us? That any of us can be a hero? That a mere mortal might gain the title simply by choosing a more dangerous occupation?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Im kind of rambling I know. Its just a thought. Wheres the divinity? Wheres the honor? Wheres the calling? Where have all the cowboys gone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&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/1325928985500901404-6043021989593282559?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/6043021989593282559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=6043021989593282559' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/6043021989593282559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/6043021989593282559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2010/08/where-have-all-conan-gone.html' title='Where have all the Conan gone?'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-2538042348693378206</id><published>2010-08-15T22:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-15T22:35:17.470-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sing me a new song...</title><content type='html'>Do you know what I mean when I say I've lost my umph...? Its so very frustrating. Im not really sure what happened. It was there, and then it wasnt.&lt;br /&gt;And I dont just mean my energy. I mean my joie de vive. I dont cook. I dont sing. Or if I do these things hold no pleasure for me. Even coming up with something to write about on here seems painful like a chore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I wasnt me I would say I'm depressed. I cant bring myself to use the word';im not really unhappy. Im just un-empassioned. My life lacks mania.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a straight un-ending line. I am the horizon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-2538042348693378206?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/2538042348693378206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=2538042348693378206' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/2538042348693378206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/2538042348693378206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2010/08/sing-me-new-song.html' title='Sing me a new song...'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-6665415993021357296</id><published>2010-05-01T22:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-01T22:43:36.054-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What is Rock and Roll?</title><content type='html'>Do you ever stop to think about rock and roll?&lt;br /&gt;I dont mean heavy metal or grunge rock, I mean the original rock and roll, the kind our parents listened too when they thought their parents were out of earshot.&lt;br /&gt;Ever since I was little my did would stay up late with his albums (I really mean vinyl) and his headphones and listen to Bob Seger and Neil Diamond and Led Zeppelin.&lt;br /&gt;I remember those times vividly because he was so engrossed in those songs, those times. I have to wonder what is it about rock n roll that was so life changing?&lt;br /&gt;Now a days we have rap, gangster and otherwise, r &amp;amp; b, softrock, classic rock, alternative, ska, blues such a myriad of sound that it is impossible to even know what comes out on a regular basis. &lt;br /&gt;Was music better in the says of Janis and Jimi and Dylan??&lt;br /&gt;Do we not cling today to the hits of yesterday because they stopped making good music?&lt;br /&gt;Will we sit with our CD's and listen for hours to the musical stylings of Marshall Mathers or the Killers or Kenny Chesney?&lt;br /&gt;So few songs today have the staying power of The Watchtower or Bobby McGee.&lt;br /&gt;I just wonder, did rock n roll die? Or is it just so dilute today that no one really cares.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-6665415993021357296?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/6665415993021357296/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=6665415993021357296' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/6665415993021357296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/6665415993021357296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2010/05/what-is-rock-and-roll.html' title='What is Rock and Roll?'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-5482265299199354310</id><published>2010-04-19T22:59:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-19T23:06:45.470-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Admiral Nelson</title><content type='html'>My cat is named after a horse. George Washington's white horse. The one in all the paintings.&lt;br /&gt;While one name is often as good as another and being named after a horse has no bearing on my kitty, I often laugh at the choice.&lt;br /&gt;Because my cat is not a cat. At least, I dont think he learned to be a cat. He is a cat that grew up with prairie dogs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nelson likes to talk - prairie dogs are very vocal&lt;br /&gt;Nelson sits on his hind legs and surveys the land - essence of prairie dog&lt;br /&gt;Nelson likes to play fight and will chase his own tail if left unattended - have you every watched p.d. cubs play?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In fact there are very few cat like things that Nelson does do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nelson drinks tomato juice.&lt;br /&gt;He likes to roll in the dirt. And then not clean himself.&lt;br /&gt;Nelson chews on shoes.&lt;br /&gt;He likes to go for walks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People get a cat because they want a cat who does cat like things.&lt;br /&gt;It figures I would get a cat who doesnt even know how to do that...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-5482265299199354310?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/5482265299199354310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=5482265299199354310' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/5482265299199354310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/5482265299199354310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2010/04/admiral-nelson.html' title='Admiral Nelson'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-8787706808869774726</id><published>2010-04-17T20:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-17T20:12:18.716-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tuesdays with Morrie</title><content type='html'>Povich? a girl from my bio class asked. Ha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well if you haven't read the book join the club. Oh wait. Dangit!&lt;br /&gt;So I have to read Tuesdays with Morrie for my Gerontology class.&lt;br /&gt;I never wanted to read this book. I purposefully avoided reading this book. And now here I am, reading the book.&lt;br /&gt;Why, you ask, do I feel so strongly about this book?&lt;br /&gt;Well its about a man and his battle with ALS.&lt;br /&gt;Its not even a battle so much as him looking at death and giving it a hug.&lt;br /&gt;So he knows hes going to dies and he spends all of his time with friends and family and has a really positive out look on what is coming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ick.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-8787706808869774726?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/8787706808869774726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=8787706808869774726' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/8787706808869774726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/8787706808869774726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2010/04/tuesdays-with-morrie.html' title='Tuesdays with Morrie'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-2348798959788066375</id><published>2010-04-07T06:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-07T07:04:53.231-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sun and Soil</title><content type='html'>Do you have a desire to grow things? I do. Something about the communion with the dirt. The sweat while your digging and eating things that you grew with your bare hands.  And its the silliest thing because we all know what a short attention span I have.  I kill things, I dont grow them.&lt;br /&gt;But here we go again with a garden and my husband is humoring me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its probably because we have decided not to move from our terrible little apartment, for the duration of our lives in indiana and  he wants me to be as comfortable as possible. Or maybe its as nostalgic for  him as it is me. He had a garden when he was a kid too. We didnt always have a garden but I remember planting tomatoes and radishes with my dad a couple summers. It was always fun checking the plants together and waiting for the first fruits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ryan and I jest about moving to Uruguay to be farmers. They still have ranchers and farmers there that can support themselves. I told ryan I will go anywhere if it means I can have horses.&lt;br /&gt;They still have cowboys in Uruguay. And its on the coast. Now if only I could learn to speak spanish.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-2348798959788066375?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/2348798959788066375/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=2348798959788066375' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/2348798959788066375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/2348798959788066375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2010/04/sun-and-soil.html' title='Sun and Soil'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-4311575278382917066</id><published>2010-04-04T07:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-04T07:29:00.407-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Bunny vs. The Fat Man</title><content type='html'>Well its Easter Sunday and most of you know what that means. Church will be filled with songs and songs joyous about the Risen Christ and that's benefits to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate Easter pageants. I cant even begin to tell  you why. I love Christmas ones so its not the pageantry. And I love the theater. Because I love the acting and the costumes and the music. I begin to think that its the story which is silly. And then i think i find that its the celebration. The Easter is so happy.&lt;br /&gt;Sure Hes risen and that means He did defeat death and what an enormous, glorious thing. In conceivable really. But what about the rest of it. There's the beating and the dying and the leaving us to our own devices where we immediately screw it up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yup, I prefer Christmas, that we just get to be thankful that he was sent. Joyful and humbled and in awe of the baby king.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-4311575278382917066?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/4311575278382917066/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=4311575278382917066' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/4311575278382917066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/4311575278382917066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2010/04/bunny-vs-fat-man.html' title='The Bunny vs. The Fat Man'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-3294647721240400350</id><published>2010-04-02T09:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-02T09:22:05.919-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Laughable</title><content type='html'>So I finally found my old blog. I had been hunting it for awhile.&lt;br /&gt;The one I started when I left for Indiana the first time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just had to comment on this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;I'm sitting at Laura's house, ending one era, beginning another. Only a  moment ago I wrote to Dr. 007 of aprehension. I've never had to make  friends as an adult. I mean starting from scratch. Tara left for school,  I still had Chris and I met Laura before he left for college. Anyways, I  won't call it fear, because I am not afraid, (afterall, who wouldn't  love me!) but it is there, with its uncertainty none the less.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 0);"&gt;Afterall who wouldnt love me. HA such optimism from the 25 year old me. I was fun and fabulous.&lt;br /&gt;And after 3 years in Indiana I still dont have a single friend.&lt;br /&gt;So I have to ask, Is it me? Or is it Indiana?&lt;br /&gt;I mean sure I was single then, much more apt to go and do.&lt;br /&gt;I was much less cynical, (thank you Ryan) and liked people in general more.&lt;br /&gt;But I was also less sure of myself and apt to spend hours investing in people who really didnt interest me because I was afraid to be alone.&lt;br /&gt;Is that quality? Is that what I want out of a relationship? Am I not allowed to have standards?&lt;br /&gt;Obviously you cant have standards and friends both. *Sigh*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-3294647721240400350?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/3294647721240400350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=3294647721240400350' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/3294647721240400350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/3294647721240400350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2010/04/laughable.html' title='Laughable'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-4835220138069282270</id><published>2010-04-02T08:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-02T08:40:36.591-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Sameness</title><content type='html'>I just stole this from someone else's blog...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-size:85%;" &gt;I've broken 3 things in the past 24 hours. Unbelievable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sad.  Distressed. Downhearted. That would be a good description of myself.  I  just broke the space bar on my keyboard.  So that makes 4 things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've  had two hysterical meltdowns two days in a row.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;In  the car I sang over and over today, "Arise, Arise, Arise, Arise my soul  arise."  It was a good reminder.  Get out of this funk and gloom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I  ache so bad I'm afraid I will implode or lose my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;It resounded so deeply in my spirit. I feel the labor just to move. The desperation of "why?" And of "what good". It fills me so wholly to know that it is not just me. That these struggles, these lies and mistrusts assail us all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So thank you Jennifer, thank you for being real and for reminding me that I am not alone.&lt;br /&gt;And hell, i might even just be normal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-4835220138069282270?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/4835220138069282270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=4835220138069282270' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/4835220138069282270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/4835220138069282270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2010/04/sameness.html' title='The Sameness'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-2042476250285840960</id><published>2010-03-31T20:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-31T20:19:23.545-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When did we grow up?</title><content type='html'>Who was the last friend you made?&lt;br /&gt;Do you stop making friends at some point?&lt;br /&gt;Children have BEST FRIENDS but adults rarely do, why is this?&lt;br /&gt;Is it because we have spouses with whom we are expected to share our deepest darkest?&lt;br /&gt;Or because we become so complex one person can't do the job?&lt;br /&gt;Or do we age beyond selfless devotion?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love to see the desire for love in other people. For some its a simple manifestation of eagerness. For others its an irritating gooey slop which they feel the need to share in hopes that you'll&lt;br /&gt;reciprocate. And then there are rebels. The girl in my biology class with her danzig t-shirt and kool-aid stained hair who really just wants to be a Disney princess.  The guy we all know that can't stand anyone anyone, but really really wants to be your friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The desire to bond is strong. The ability is so flawed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-2042476250285840960?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/2042476250285840960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=2042476250285840960' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/2042476250285840960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/2042476250285840960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2010/03/when-did-we-grow-up.html' title='When did we grow up?'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-1704744226480796713</id><published>2010-03-24T19:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-24T20:01:56.436-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Easy as 1, 2, 3...</title><content type='html'>Last night I made a pot roast. As I was cooking it, I was watching some food network shows that I dont normally watch and i happened upon a recipe for popovers that changed my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have always wanted to try popovers. But they kinda look complicated and fussy and you gotta print the recipe and have the time etc...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the chick on TV says... "its 2 eggs, 2tsp of melted butter, 1 cup of milk and 1 cup of flour"&lt;br /&gt;blend and your done.&lt;br /&gt;How hard is that? So I made some...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now my thought is, why do we not reduce everything in life to simple forms? Other recipes id seen called for these odd quantities and special instructions... If thats really all it took, 2+2+1+1 well anyone should be able to make popovers... and a bet more people would try.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-1704744226480796713?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/1704744226480796713/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=1704744226480796713' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/1704744226480796713'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/1704744226480796713'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2010/03/easy-as-1-2-3.html' title='Easy as 1, 2, 3...'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-4522925953276890062</id><published>2010-03-22T10:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-22T10:40:16.947-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Go ask Alice....</title><content type='html'>I went to see Alice in Wonderland this past weekend. Of course I enjoyed it thoroughly, but then there are few things Tim Burton that I dont love. Ryan and I got to discussing the symbolism, or implied symbolism in the book/movie.  (I love how a piece of literature is dissected by third parties years later and said to mean things I bet they never did).&lt;br /&gt;Does the Jabberwocky represent traditional female roles? Husbands? Penises? Why did Disney introduce playing cards into the cartoon version? What happened to the Walrus and the Carpenter?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the end of the movie, Alice decides not to marry the wealthy but awful young man who has asked for her hand but instead pursues business and engages in building trade with China.&lt;br /&gt;Throughout the movie the young Alice romps sans corset and stockings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this is my thought for today... This is independence no? Alice believes in impossible things. She has vision beyond matrimony and society. And she throws off convention with abandon to pursue the impossible.&lt;br /&gt;Does she disobey her mother in turning down her proposal, yes. Does she act improperly by choosing business over motherhood?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is this a feminist hollywood american dream? Is this a shiny hope of prosperity silently undermining our ability to be content with hearth and home?  Are we learning to resent conventional wisdom and trust our "inner guide" one hour of conditioning at time?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or is it even wrong to lose the corset and stockings? So some small minded gossips will talk about how they might see our shins? Are we so afraid of questioning our conventional wisdom that we tow a line, to a party, a dogma, a tradition that we fear to evaluate what we really think. Or maybe we shouldnt think.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-4522925953276890062?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/4522925953276890062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=4522925953276890062' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/4522925953276890062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/4522925953276890062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2010/03/go-ask-alice.html' title='Go ask Alice....'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-827265522453070985</id><published>2010-01-12T21:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-12T21:20:28.646-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nutrition</title><content type='html'>I am toying with the idea of getting a minor in Nutrition. I love food. We all know this. Love to cook, love to eat, love to talk to other people about cooking and eating...(Aside, my mother just sent me a chocolate bar from this company called Bloomsbury. It is the best chocolate I have ever eaten.) So I am thinking, nutrition is something that will easily fit into my health care major, many of my nutrition classes will also be accepted as electives for my BS and I will get to study food and the body and stay engrossed in one of the things I really care about.&lt;br /&gt;I am taking a nutrition class this semester (btw, my teacher is a customer at my store, I hope I was nice to her) so we will see how we like it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-827265522453070985?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/827265522453070985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=827265522453070985' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/827265522453070985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/827265522453070985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2010/01/nutrition.html' title='Nutrition'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-8553541569937787384</id><published>2010-01-11T20:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-11T20:54:42.907-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I wish I was a neat  freak.</title><content type='html'>I really really do. But i am not. Neither is my husband. In fact, we are both pretty messy. As I sit here typing, on my desk is a bag of starbursts he is currently eating, a chocolate bar that I am grazing. Now these items are in use, so thats not so bad, but when we add them to the sleeve of ritz crackers that I didnt put away three nights ago, the bottle of hot sauce that seems to keep aparating no matter how often I put it away and the three water bottles that are at various stages of being consumed, you begin to see that we have a problem.&lt;br /&gt;There is christmas ribbon that didnt make it in the box with the paper, my camera, change from someone's emptied pockets, a school schedule, a camera, a pen cup, a bottle of lotion and a remote control. And the desk is no isolated incident.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this is bad right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The saving grace of my marriage (well one, there are probably several) is that neither Ryan nor I have a chore distribution paradigm. The house looks like what it looks like. Inevitably, I will get tired of the mess before he does and begin to pick things up. So eventually, the laundry will get done, the dishes washed, and the kitchen and the bathroom cleaned.&lt;br /&gt;He doesnt expect that any of these things ever be done so if I do them fine, if not, they can keep until it gets gross enough that he decides to do it. Circle back to the inevitable I will get disgusted long before he will...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am fine with this. As long as he poses no expectation that I pick up after him on his schdule, I am content to do it whenever I am in the "picking up mood".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The problem is... The mood is not something I am in on a day to day basis.&lt;br /&gt;I like cleaning days. I like to start when I wake up, open the windows, turn on the radio and spend 4 to 5 hours at a pace working from one end to the other. I never get to do this on a 9-to -5 so I just can never get motivated to do much of anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After all... its not like i have friends over. For that matter its not like I have friends here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is cleanliness still next to godliness if there is no one to hear the cleanliness fall in the forrest?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-8553541569937787384?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/8553541569937787384/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=8553541569937787384' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/8553541569937787384'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/8553541569937787384'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-wish-i-was-neat-freak.html' title='I wish I was a neat  freak.'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-2537006449252252099</id><published>2010-01-10T20:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-10T20:45:26.714-08:00</updated><title type='text'>When I grow up...</title><content type='html'>Do we ever become? Even now as I have finally committed to an academic program and am on a path, I find myself suddenly unsatisfied with it.&lt;br /&gt;I was talking to my mother the other day about my OTA program and what the timeline will be like. I will find out in February if I am selected to start in the fall.&lt;br /&gt;"What happens if you dont get in?" she says to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A perfectly legitimate question I suppose. But I didnt have an answer. Not get in? Who are you talking about here because I know you dont mean me.&lt;br /&gt;But then I had to think about it. What am I going to do if I dont get accepted to this program? A program that will graduate me with an associates degree no less. Ha.&lt;br /&gt;I suppose I just keep plugging along with the classes I need for my Bachelors. Pick up a minor perhaps? But what in? Dietetics so I have an excuse to study food? I would rather be in culinary school I think we all can admit that, but who wants to work in a restaurant for 80 hours a week?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, I would like to have a little breakfast and lunch diner that served pies. Not just sweet pies of course but quiches and ham and cheese pies and spaghetti pies and everything you can imagine in a pie shell. It would only be open for breakfast and lunch. The kinda place where all the old men come in the morning to sit and drink coffee you know? Not that you need a college degree for that... but  you do need a benefactor right? And since I am minus a sugar daddy and refuse to scrub out my husband for the life insurance money ( not that he hasnt offered ) ....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss blogging. Heather Lee said today that she wouldnt read my journal because it would be boring. Then after discussion, not because the material would be boring but more because the pages would be blank. I began to ask myself, do I not blog anymore because I have nothing to say?? Rarely do I have nothing to say so that cannot be it. Do I suffer the same ill feelings towards my cyber journal as she... that I have allowed it to become a medium for my own bellyaching and less as a creative, thoughtful exercise?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-2537006449252252099?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/2537006449252252099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=2537006449252252099' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/2537006449252252099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/2537006449252252099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2010/01/when-i-grow-up.html' title='When I grow up...'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-8258252659722400011</id><published>2009-09-07T10:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-07T10:33:22.397-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Coco-Nuts</title><content type='html'>This is apparently the funniest thing about The Search for the Holy Grail. Men banging coconuts.&lt;br /&gt;Every scene that involved the substitution of coconuts for horses, Noah giggled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now there were jokes that I expected him not to get. Sir Gallahad the Chaste having to be rescued from spanking the virgins at Anthrax.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dragging discussion of the carrying power and wind/speed velocity of a European swallow versus an African swallow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You cant expect to wield supreme power because some watery tart threw a sword at you"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the simplicity of "Patsy" the man servant loyally following his king, banging his coconuts as Arthur "galloped" erectly. Apparently, this is humor.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I love children.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-8258252659722400011?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/8258252659722400011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=8258252659722400011' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/8258252659722400011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/8258252659722400011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2009/09/coco-nuts.html' title='Coco-Nuts'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-4851455532104207394</id><published>2009-09-05T06:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-05T13:42:41.419-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Monty Python Experiment</title><content type='html'>"I didn't even finish 15 minutes of it, that was terrible! How on earth is that your favorite movie?" said I to Steve some 10 or so years ago. I, being terribly smitten, was trying every new movie and album he loved so we would have more to talk about, and had just tried to watch The Life of Brian.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I just dont want to see (The search for the Holy Grail)" says a friend who will remain anonymous. "Everyone is always quoting the stupid lines to each other and laughing hysterically at things that dont seem to make any sense. At this point in time I cant imagine that there are any funny parts I dont already know by heart nor that they are anywhere near as funny as they have been built up to be.  It doesnt interest me."  at which point I scream "Help, Help Im being repressed!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I have grown and become more cynical, I have loved Monty more and more. Now I watch the Life of Brian and giggle myself silly. I wonder if its an age thing? Or perhaps at time, I thought it was not funny because I didnt understand why anyone would mock my religion and could not laugh at it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This weekend Ryan and I are watching The Search for the Holy Grail with Noah. It will be his first time with Monty Python. I am eager to see how the next generation feels about it. Will he think its funny? He has a strange dry wit. (Wonder where he got that) Which jokes will he understand? (He is unusually sharp for a child of 10, further proof he is his fathers child) When will he be lost but will laugh  because we are and will I be able to tell?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Either way, I am excited to see the cult classic the first time with fresh eyes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-4851455532104207394?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/4851455532104207394/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=4851455532104207394' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/4851455532104207394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/4851455532104207394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2009/09/monty-python-experiment.html' title='The Monty Python Experiment'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-631190063960248095</id><published>2009-09-03T21:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-03T22:10:47.724-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Back to Blogging...I  hope.</title><content type='html'>We should all have friends that challenge us. Someone who, while they love us for who we are today, know that we can in fact rule the world and push us to be thinking about our plans for world domination. Okay, maybe not world domination, but personal improvement... is that a little less dramatic?&lt;br /&gt;Laura is that friend of mine. The girl just oozes ambition. And it drives me nuts. I wish that I had a tenth of her drive. At times I mock that she has a fear of boredom. But she also has an amazingly full and accomplished life.&lt;br /&gt;She works full time at a job she enjoys.&lt;br /&gt;She pursues her passion for music by teaching voice and engaging in musical theater.&lt;br /&gt;She is in leadership in the church.&lt;br /&gt;She camps, she coupons, she saves, she has two blogs, she writes and she runs marathons.&lt;br /&gt;And she does all these things while going to grad school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am lucky if i make it to work on time and if I had clean clothes to wear there.&lt;br /&gt;Sure I have dreams. I am falling in love with Occupational Therapy this semester.&lt;br /&gt;I am excited to learn what avenues are available in that field. Ryan and I want to go to Europe.&lt;br /&gt;I want to successfully grow a plant for 12 months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now I am exhausted between school kicking my butt all week and apartment hunting most of the afternoon...But, Laura is launching a new blog and I was feeling a little small in comparison. Its sad and pathetic I know. But still...&lt;br /&gt;Can you be proud of your friends and jealous of their success at the same time? I dont envy Laura anything. She earns all she gets and she gives as much as she can sometimes more. Perhaps jealousy is not the right emotion. Perhaps its shame. Perhaps its that Im 29 and still living at home for all intents and purposes. Perhaps I should not be ashamed of this, many of my generation are in the same boat. Just not so many of my peers.&lt;br /&gt;Then again. Perhaps im just tired.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-631190063960248095?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/631190063960248095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=631190063960248095' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/631190063960248095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/631190063960248095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2009/09/back-to-bloggingi-hope.html' title='Back to Blogging...I  hope.'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-6937821750159477259</id><published>2009-07-07T06:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-07T06:51:50.308-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Sunday Night&lt;br /&gt;A pharmacy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;A telephone rings...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Technician: Hello and thank you for calling CVS how can I help you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caller: Yes, my Medicaid hasn't been working or whatever but now there going to turn it on and give me the money back that I paid  you, cause there was a couple times I had to pay for my medicine. Can you tell me how much that was?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Technician: You're asking what your recent out of pocket expenses were because you Medicaid was in-active?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caller: Yeah, cause they said you'd give me my  money back or they would or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Technician: It looks like it was around $29.00.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caller: Really? Thats all?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Technician: Well ma'am if you got prescriptions at other stores, you would need to resubmit the insurance claim at each store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caller: Oh. Well can you get that ready for me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Technician: Did they reactivate your old Medicaid ID account or did they assign you a new one?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caller: I dont know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Technician: Well then we would not be able to resubmit the claims with out the paperwork. Once you bring us the paper work we would be happy to resubmit them here in the store. If they will go electronically then we will refund your money immediately. Most of them are a month or more old and we do not guarantee electronic refunds over two weeks so we might end up mailing them. That could take a month or so. Do you have your receipts?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caller: No, they didn't tell me I needed them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Technician close to losing her patience: And how do you expect that you might get a refund from a store from several months ago without a receipt?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caller: I dont know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Technician knowing shes if fighting a losing battle because we can procure the receipts and the customer is infact not responsible for keeping her own crap together, we will just hand her money like everyone else is doing...: Why dont you just bring in your paperwork and we'll see what we can do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do we live in a world now where people (my generation) dont seem to know how things work? I really want to go on a tirade about personal responsibility yada yada but even now my day is slipping away and I have to go. But I am thinking about these things...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The trash can in my kitchen is flowing over onto the floor because I am the only one who seems to be capable of taking it out. The ratio right now of me empting it versus anyone else in this house is 62:4. And I dont even live here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman across the street called the cops on us because my huband parked in front of her house. She called the cops an hour and a half after leaving the first note she ever left on his windshield. And the cops threatened us with a misdemeanor for lack of cooperation if we continued to park there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-6937821750159477259?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/6937821750159477259/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=6937821750159477259' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/6937821750159477259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/6937821750159477259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2009/07/sunday-night-pharmacy-telephone-rings.html' title=''/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-5969892995124445407</id><published>2009-07-05T07:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-05T08:14:15.252-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mawigde is what bwings us togever today...</title><content type='html'>I am going to do something random and post on my blog. My bestest friend Tara got married recently. (I sometimes feel funny calling her my best friend, because in actuality I have 4 best friends, or three and a husband.  But I also have two mothers and I refer to them both as my mom. Context clues help) I was in the wedding and it was fun and wonderful and we had a great time and she was beautiful...See:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SlC-bGS4PSI/AAAAAAAAAFY/rey_Sq0uuG4/s1600-h/151.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SlC-bGS4PSI/AAAAAAAAAFY/rey_Sq0uuG4/s320/151.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354989329699061026" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the wedding is the easy part. Some more so than others. The biggest struggle of mine was taking Ryan shopping for a new shirt. (Ever HAD to buy something for an event when you are feeling fat or tired or just not cute and ended up stomping your foot. This is what it is like taking my husband shopping for clothes.) But comparatively, i had it easy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then, then comes the real world. The meshing of the lives, the ticks, the moods, the motives, the budgets, the expectations, the kids (his, mine, ours), the discipline (his, mine, theirs) the television, the social life (or imbalance therein) and no matter how m&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SlDC8HVUn-I/AAAAAAAAAFg/qm2M-dboDFc/s1600-h/IMG_2005.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 314px; height: 235px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SlDC8HVUn-I/AAAAAAAAAFg/qm2M-dboDFc/s320/IMG_2005.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354994294959939554" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;uch you hash it out ahead of time, its not what you expected. It doesnt go according to plan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I have been thinking a lot about marriage. What a blessing it is to have one that works. Someone who is sticking by you, putting up with you. If you look at the statistics they are pretty grim. When I look at my friends from highschool we are sitting high right now, only one casualty so far, that I am aware of, but several yet to be married and a few pretty unhappy situations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really dont have an opinion or an epiphany here, more just a musing on paper. A girl at my work yesterday spouted off about the John and Kate debauchle saying that "Kate shouldnt stay with him if shes not happy because everyone deserves to be happy" I could have slapped her. And then choked her to death. And then I had to mourn a little bit for the self importance of our generation. I deserve to be happy? Do I? For what reason? Not to mention the entire concept of  happiness just crap. But that is another episode.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-5969892995124445407?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/5969892995124445407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=5969892995124445407' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/5969892995124445407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/5969892995124445407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2009/07/mawigde-is-what-bwings-us-togever-today.html' title='Mawigde is what bwings us togever today...'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SlC-bGS4PSI/AAAAAAAAAFY/rey_Sq0uuG4/s72-c/151.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-1816406989610349218</id><published>2009-03-03T12:03:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-03T12:13:10.446-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Trapped</title><content type='html'>So today is my day off. When I have to work the weekend, I get a day off during the week to make up for it (gotta love retail). Usually I do laundry, catch up on the shows that Ryan wont watch with me, watch a chick flick On-Demand (its free) go to Walmart for the weekly shopping or go into town and hit the mall.&lt;br /&gt;Well, shopping is not really an option for today, we had to pay the utility bill again $336.77! And this right after my birthday, we are pretty poor. (Though I am way over due for a haircut and completely out of shampoo.) Sarah is home doing her Photoshop-ing on the living room TV. I mean I guess having the picture the size of the wall makes for great results. And Ryan came home sick at 11 am and is asleep in our room.&lt;br /&gt;I have no bed to fold laundry, no tv to watch and no where to read a book. I would go the movies but they only have one showing all day! (7:15)&lt;br /&gt;Pooh.&lt;br /&gt;(Just so you know, I am not wasting all day, I am making the sick boy some home made chicken soup, but still.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-1816406989610349218?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/1816406989610349218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=1816406989610349218' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/1816406989610349218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/1816406989610349218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2009/03/trapped.html' title='Trapped'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-6321817884690702322</id><published>2009-02-19T17:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-19T17:37:56.842-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The B-Day, V-Day Weekend</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SZ4HbqhbkUI/AAAAAAAAAEo/97sg-GMnAh0/s1600-h/Cincinnati+0209+004.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SZ4HbqhbkUI/AAAAAAAAAEo/97sg-GMnAh0/s320/Cincinnati+0209+004.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304685582941393218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can I confess something? I am a terrible spoiled brat. Hands down, high horse, expect the moon and know I deserve it spoiled. The week before my birthday I was angry about something, I dont even remember what, but I was crying and fuming and had all but decided that if Ryan so much as had the nerve to ask me what I wanted for my birthday rather than just planning something fantastic, I was going to run away. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SZ4InUL5HSI/AAAAAAAAAFI/Tr2j4rgvJu8/s1600-h/Cincinnati+0209+021.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SZ4InUL5HSI/AAAAAAAAAFI/Tr2j4rgvJu8/s320/Cincinnati+0209+021.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304686882615532834" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SZ4InUL5HSI/AAAAAAAAAFI/Tr2j4rgvJu8/s1600-h/Cincinnati+0209+021.JPG"&gt;Seriously, I was leaving. I hadn't gone so far as to say to myself that I was going back to Va Beach, but I was definitely not coming home for a few days. "That'll teach him to under appreciate...". Where d&lt;/a&gt;o I get this stuff?&lt;br /&gt;A tizzy. Thats the only way I can explain it. I was in a tizzy.&lt;br /&gt;And two days later I come home and he says to me, "We need to talk about your birthday." By this time of course the storm had passed. (I'm so bad with holding grudges) (sometimes) And I find out he had raced home from work, drove all the way to town (which is an hour) so that he could get to the cell phone store and by me an IPhone for my birthday only to decide not to because of the $75 dollar a month increase to our cellphone bill. So rather than be spontaneous, he thought he should ask me before committing us to that much debt.&lt;br /&gt;Such a simple thing. That he made a two hour trip and came home empty handed. That rather than blow our money like we always do (we are so bad with money, both of us like to pretend we have it) he asked before he lept.&lt;br /&gt;I love him.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SZ4Hhz8mPmI/AAAAAAAAAEw/AZ6JH-uBpHc/s1600-h/Cincinnati+0209+015.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SZ4Hhz8mPmI/AAAAAAAAAEw/AZ6JH-uBpHc/s320/Cincinnati+0209+015.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304685688550473314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I asked for a favor instead. To spend my birthday with my family since we are within driving distance.&lt;br /&gt;So we booked a hotel and took the long scenic route and made a 3 hour trip a 6  hour trip. (He decided to replace my broken stereo with one that hooked into my IPOD half way there-LOVE IT!) and we had the best time. We love being together.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SZ4JLDspbRI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/yymZvH8LH0o/s1600-h/Cincinnati+0209+033.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SZ4JLDspbRI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/yymZvH8LH0o/s320/Cincinnati+0209+033.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304687496664804626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a fantastic weekend! Ryan played with the baby a lot which I enjoyed watching. We had a fantastic hotel room (which someone sent us Champagne and Chocolate Cheesecake !! Thanks and Happy Birthday to me!) and on Saturday we went for a horsedrawn carriage ride around downtown Cincinnati.&lt;br /&gt;So for all my fussing and fuming and princessiness, I got better than I deserve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SZ4HWigLadI/AAAAAAAAAEg/XMKyTmYXbr8/s1600-h/Cincinnati+0209+042.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SZ4HWigLadI/AAAAAAAAAEg/XMKyTmYXbr8/s320/Cincinnati+0209+042.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304685494889310674" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-6321817884690702322?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/6321817884690702322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=6321817884690702322' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/6321817884690702322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/6321817884690702322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2009/02/b-day-v-day-weekend.html' title='The B-Day, V-Day Weekend'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SZ4HbqhbkUI/AAAAAAAAAEo/97sg-GMnAh0/s72-c/Cincinnati+0209+004.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-8120958662788074384</id><published>2008-12-29T07:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-29T07:59:05.591-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs*</title><content type='html'>Dont you just love it when someone agrees with you? I bought this book at B&amp;amp;N yesterday and so far I am in love. Its a series of rants, a manifesto in essay if you will about pop culture. And the first sentiment from the page is how he will never be able to make any woman happy and this all the fault of John Cusack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well not John Cusack so much as Lloyd Dobbler and dont act like you are not secretly in love with "Say Anything". I hate John Cusack, and I still have the little melty thing every time that stupid song is heard. But hes right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been reading Twilight and thinking how unsatisfying any real relationship must be in compairison to the one every young woman is in with Edward Cullen. I mean, he's immortal, so he has that whole Groundhog Day self improvment thing with the piano composition and the knowledge of all things musical and literary not to mention physical speed and agility. When you add an obsessive, comsumptive, possessive, passionate, I've never wanted anyone like  you in the last 300 years... Hell, I am a grown woman who doesnt give myself to romantic daydreams of the perfect person often and i find it hard not to have my expectations shifted even slightly. And there are people who read this romance crap on a regular!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What must it be like to dream of the perfect man for years? Or have a man and sneak off to a pretend one all the time? Real guys dont have a chance. Even with Woody Allen on their side.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-8120958662788074384?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/8120958662788074384/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=8120958662788074384' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/8120958662788074384'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/8120958662788074384'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/12/sex-drugs-and-cocoa-puffs.html' title='Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs*'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-4928245612543730823</id><published>2008-12-19T12:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-19T12:51:44.966-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Subculture</title><content type='html'>I like movies. I think ive even blogged about this before. In fact Im sure of it. But it occurs to me yet again that I judge other people based on this one certain subculture.&lt;br /&gt;Episode: I have a new friend on Myspace. Hes not a new friend exactly, but we are newly friends on Myspace. And when reading the things he likes column, I browse the music section, laughing out loud that the first on the list is Tool. Nothing against it, I enjoy Tool, the are one of the few metal bands on my Ipod, I just didnt know they were on the top of anyones list anymore.&lt;br /&gt;I digress.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I get to the movie section and see that he has The Boondock Saints listed. Now this is not a character trait. This does not make him a good person, it does not make him smarter, more reliable, more honest etc. But for some reason, my estimation of this person increases. We can have music in common, books, TV shows, whatever, but love the same stupid pop cult flick as I do and you are instantly more likely to stick to my social circle.&lt;br /&gt;I find this subculture loyalty highly amusing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-4928245612543730823?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/4928245612543730823/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=4928245612543730823' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/4928245612543730823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/4928245612543730823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/12/subculture.html' title='Subculture'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-1913377587944866528</id><published>2008-12-17T08:08:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-17T08:27:54.986-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Making Friends</title><content type='html'>You know, I actually dont know that I like making friends. Not that that is a bizzare statement, but if youve known me for any length of time, you wont believe a word of it.&lt;br /&gt;Its true. I love people. Which is contrary to most things I say in my blog. I like meeting new people. I like talking to new people. I like hearing their stories and learning about their lives and lessons theyve learned. I can do new people.&lt;br /&gt;Its when new people arent so shiny anymore. Or more truthfully, when I am probably not so shiny any more. That I have always had the hardest time.&lt;br /&gt;Heather Lee says its the fear of non reciprocation. Which is funny because how do you reciprocate with a leech? Perhaps thats a bit harsh, but i dont have many walls. The ones I do are high and close to my heart. People can come, are invited/dragged into my life with no thought to their needs or lines or social standards (mostly from my own lack of their concept) and before I know it, apparently Ive crossed a line into to psycho girl.&lt;br /&gt;So I developed this bit. Im the transition friend. New to the church? Ill be your friend until you make your own. New to town? Ill take you out and show you all the places youll want to go with your friends when you make some. New to work? You can sit at my lunch table until you find your own place.&lt;br /&gt;With this philosopy, the leaving is inevitable. The reciprocation is unexpected. Because its true, most people dissappoint. But then you can snatch everyone to your chest and hold them there.&lt;br /&gt;I think I am like that little girl in the cartoons that just wants that kitty so bad, "to love, it and pet it, and hold it, and kiss it' that she drags it everywhere by they neck and all it wants is to get away from her.&lt;br /&gt;Why am I posting this? Well I have been thinking about friends lately, probably because I have none near by. Mary (the girl whose party I went to a couple post ago) is good fun, but probably wont stick. She has her own life and its pretty busy.&lt;br /&gt;I caught up with a couple friends at the reunion and thought perhaps we would start talking again, we used to be so close. At least I thought. Perhaps that was in my head as well.&lt;br /&gt;And then there are a couple on the fringe, that you think, well all signs are positive, but dare I actually make a move. And then, how much is too much? And how to do it without letting any of the crazy slip out? Because they will proabably like me as long as I am normal, but lets just keep that crazy tucked away just in case.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-1913377587944866528?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/1913377587944866528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=1913377587944866528' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/1913377587944866528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/1913377587944866528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/12/making-friends.html' title='Making Friends'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-3648706495585714129</id><published>2008-12-16T09:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-16T10:20:45.198-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Blogging for the Guilt of it</title><content type='html'>I havent blogged in awhile. I feel that my life is mindless. Part of that is true. Part of it is sharing every space with Ryan or his mom and sister doesnt leave you much time to ponder the universe and comment as usual. In that vein, I miss sitting at my desk at Hotel and Club. All the time in the world to think and comment. Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday was a gem of a day. We had a floating pharmacist. (Ryan asked about the anchoring. Sometimes I wonder about him, he puns as bad as my stepdad.) Anyway. This new pharmacist (hes not quite 30) cage fights in his free time. Even now I fail to say this with a straight face. And all the other girls in the pharmacy just thought he was the bee knees. Kept asking him how you get to be a cage fighter and telling him how he looked like The Rock (I thought 'more like A rock'). And I just stood there and shook my head and as the fauned and doted. And he thought he was everyones friend. Ordered pizza for us all (bbq chicken barf... i ate my ham sandwich) with his per diem and actually said to someone on the phone (well I stayed at a Holiday Inn last night so they let me be a pharmacist today). I almost actually said, "Its Holiday Inn EXPRESS jackass, if your gonna make the bad joke atleast get the punchline right.'&lt;br /&gt;I think what really made me mad was I walked in and they were all bad mouthing the regular pharmacist, who I will admit is a big jerk, but in an expects you to know how to do your job without having to be told kinda way. And the new kid was just soaking it all in and saying "well if I ruled the world" type things.&lt;br /&gt;Who does this? I mean honestly? People. They aggravate me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and we spent several hours last night watching cable news shows to hear someone make a lame duck joke and no one did. Ryan actually yelled at the TV. It was hysterical.&lt;br /&gt;"Lame Duck President dodges a shoe and no one can say 'Well that was a lame duck!'"&lt;br /&gt;Bless his heart.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-3648706495585714129?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/3648706495585714129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=3648706495585714129' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/3648706495585714129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/3648706495585714129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/12/blogging-for-guilt-of-it.html' title='Blogging for the Guilt of it'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-6253682641968016147</id><published>2008-12-01T17:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-01T17:54:15.947-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Playing Tag</title><content type='html'>Katie Paulus tagged me. The object I suppose is randomness. In this particular game of tag, participants upload the fifth picture in the fifth file of their photos and post them to their blog.&lt;br /&gt;So heres mine:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/STST_xKKXKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/xN24loP45mQ/s1600-h/010.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/STST_xKKXKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/xN24loP45mQ/s320/010.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275003787294694562" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It was a day last summer when Noah was visiting. We were down at the beach and Ryan was playing in the water with him. I was off on a walk taking random photos and this particular files has several hundred. Ryan and I have a hobby where go out photo seeking. We take hundreds of random photos and then choose the best to be in our black and white gallery in our home. This one did not make the cut. But you never know when one will, so you dont cut out, you cut in, just in case. I thought if I could catch this kite, open full in a graceful moment it might be nice. I shot it in 18 frames with nothing use able. Its all a waiting game. But then, lots of great photos are. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tag Heather Lee and Missy Wetherington.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-6253682641968016147?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/6253682641968016147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=6253682641968016147' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/6253682641968016147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/6253682641968016147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/12/playing-tag.html' title='Playing Tag'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/STST_xKKXKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/xN24loP45mQ/s72-c/010.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-1614345907474961329</id><published>2008-11-30T07:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-30T08:14:02.422-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Home</title><content type='html'>I am going home. But I am home. This is a complex thought to me. I am sitting at Scott and Heathers. My second house. I have spent this week with ten years worth of friends whom I have shared with and loved and grown with. Im in Virginia Beach. Last night, watching the water from Norfolk's Waterside, I was instantly immersed in my city, watching the world from the most familiar of vantage points.&lt;br /&gt;This week has been surreal. Driving in my city but in a car thats not mine. Living in a home that is familiar, sleeping without my husband. Seeing so many friends who's lives I cant share.&lt;br /&gt;And while its been fun, and encouraging, and refreshing (although, exhausting) all I can think today is how I want to go home. To the place that is not my home. To the house that is not my home, to the city that is not my home, to the place that holds no friends.&lt;br /&gt;So while all week, my first response to "hows Indiana" has been a scowl and a complaint, I must admit, my heart lives there. And while I have him to "go home" to I have much to be thankful for.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-1614345907474961329?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/1614345907474961329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=1614345907474961329' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/1614345907474961329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/1614345907474961329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/11/home.html' title='Home'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-1646242442750252697</id><published>2008-11-19T18:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T18:36:53.162-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Personality</title><content type='html'>Rachel Maddow apparently has gone on vacation. I know this means absolutely nothing to the rest of the world, but this puts a knot in my drawers. And its not even that she has gone on vacation, every body needs a vacation, but its the fact that she had someone sit in and do her show. AND SHES TERRIBLE. This is highly disappointing. I mean, its the news. But its the news with a great host, a personality which is why I watch the show, that and I have a girl crush on her. But its real news not like the Daily Show where they can just rerun. But you dont ever see Jon Stewart let Jon Oliver sit in for him do you? Not that that wouldnt be great. As long as it wasnt Rob Riggle. *Shiver*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-1646242442750252697?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/1646242442750252697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=1646242442750252697' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/1646242442750252697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/1646242442750252697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/11/personality.html' title='Personality'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-2550056787952399155</id><published>2008-11-04T21:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-04T22:19:29.229-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Problem With People...</title><content type='html'>Okay so I have said before that I dont like people. That is a generalization.&lt;br /&gt;I like individuals, but I dont like people. Kinda like how I am racist but I have black friends...long story.&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, my job is not helping this "I hate people" mentality I have.&lt;br /&gt;So heres the thing:&lt;br /&gt;I have a problem with government subsidized programs. Because people dont seem to get off them. &lt;---Aside&lt;br /&gt;And mainly I have a problem with people who come into my pharmacy and want to not get a prescription because they have to pay for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Conversation:&lt;br /&gt;Me: I have NINE prescriptions for you Mrs. Jones and that will be $6.00.&lt;br /&gt;Mrs. Jones: I dont pay for my prescriptions.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Medicare doesnt cover this ONE.&lt;br /&gt;Mrs. Jones: I dont want it then.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Do you want to know what it is?&lt;br /&gt;Mrs. Jones: Is it my Lortab?&lt;br /&gt;Me: No&lt;br /&gt;Mrs. Jones: Then I dont want it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never mind that it was a cough syrup for her kid. Or worse an antibotic plus steroid cause the kids bronchitis is worse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SIX DOLLARS!!&lt;br /&gt;My copay for my migraine pills is SIXTY!&lt;br /&gt;Much less the fact that they are getting nine scripts for a measley six bucks.&lt;br /&gt;OMG!&lt;br /&gt;If I have never before wanted to physically hurt a stranger, I now know why people kill other people.&lt;br /&gt;That I work, now at a menial, retail, practically minimum wage job, so that my tax dollars can pay for these people to sit on there obese or cracked out rears (because it seems to me that people who abuse the medicare system also abuse food and or drugs) so they can not even pay less than they do for fast food to not get medicine for their CHILDREN but have free XANAX...&lt;br /&gt;And then they have the nerve to get huffy with me when they dont pay attention to how many refills they have or whether or not their prescription is expired or just the fact that they actually had to wait for the sweet old lady in front of them who has to pay $197.87 a month for her Crestor to finish writing her check.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, I would not mind stabbing them with my pen, just to watch them bleed.&lt;br /&gt;This I understand is far from anything like a Christian attitude. Maybe if I had XANAX I wouldnt be so hateful. LOL&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-2550056787952399155?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/2550056787952399155/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=2550056787952399155' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/2550056787952399155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/2550056787952399155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/11/problem-with-people.html' title='The Problem With People...'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-2632333189666492383</id><published>2008-11-01T14:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-01T14:59:51.508-07:00</updated><title type='text'>No Wing and a Prayer</title><content type='html'>I have been invited to a party. Nothing terribly exciting. Its a Tastefully Simple party hosted by one of the Pharmacists. Shes about my age and when to college near Indianapolis. That qualifies as having lived in an actual city. And she has a horse. And shes single. And catholic but in a postmodern were all Gods children fashion. So thats quasi-Christian I suppose.&lt;br /&gt;So far I like her. More than most people I have met around here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ryan has decided it would be good for me to go this party. "If I like her, maybe I will like her friends." &lt;--- Translates, Maybe he wont have to be my only friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that leaves me going to a party solo. I hate going to a party solo. You should always at least have a wing man. I am a firm believer in creating your own sub-party.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Laura and went to this murder-mystery dinner thing with our community theater and spent all night flirting outlandishly with this handsome 40 something gentleman, and had a fabulous evening with people who were all friends with each other and barely knew us. But it was one of the best parties I have ever been to because we created our own event.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So alas, I am going, telling myself I can be fabulous by myself. With my bottle of Yellow Tail. And a little hope in my heart.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-2632333189666492383?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/2632333189666492383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=2632333189666492383' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/2632333189666492383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/2632333189666492383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/11/no-wing-and-prayer.html' title='No Wing and a Prayer'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-4196271417706178544</id><published>2008-10-19T16:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-19T16:56:56.430-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Twilight  Zone</title><content type='html'>Things my husband said today that made me wonder what they'd done with MY husband...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Lets go pick apples"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm stopping at Walgreens because you said you were out of chapstick"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I have to pee"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I bet we can get that cheaper at WalMart, lets go there instead"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-4196271417706178544?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/4196271417706178544/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=4196271417706178544' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/4196271417706178544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/4196271417706178544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/10/twilight-zone.html' title='The Twilight  Zone'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-4205173506414489560</id><published>2008-10-19T07:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-19T07:10:04.035-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life Goes On...For Everyone Else</title><content type='html'>I went to my parents place in Cincinnati for my fathers 60th birthday.&lt;br /&gt;My parents are getting older, and thats depressing.&lt;br /&gt;My brother has a girlfriend that he hasnt told me about, and thats depressing.&lt;br /&gt;Actually, hes mad at me cause I didnt go there for his birthday breakfast. I didnt wake up on time (I had to get up at 430 to be there by 730) because I couldnt fall asleep. I sent him a text message, but apparently my mom turned off the text messaging service. So he just thinks I didnt come.&lt;br /&gt;Thats depressing.&lt;br /&gt;My sister is having a baby and im not. Thats depressing.&lt;br /&gt;It was great to be home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-4205173506414489560?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/4205173506414489560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=4205173506414489560' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/4205173506414489560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/4205173506414489560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/10/life-goes-onfor-everyone-else.html' title='Life Goes On...For Everyone Else'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-1674295978273855376</id><published>2008-10-05T06:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-05T06:38:44.788-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Resolutions for Mental Health</title><content type='html'>October 3rd, 2008 by JHG    &lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clyde Kilby composed a list of 10 resolutions to benefit your soul and mental health. John Piper says of them, "He (Kilby) pleads with us to stop seeking mental health in the mirror of self-analysis, but instead to drink in the remedies of God in nature.” Here are the resolutions:&lt;div class="entry"&gt; &lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;1. At least once every day I shall look steadily up at the sky and remember that I, a consciousness with a conscience, am on a planet traveling in space with wonderfully mysterious things above and about me.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;2. Instead of the accustomed idea of a mindless and endless evolutionary change to which we can neither add nor subtract, I shall suppose the universe guided by an Intelligence which, as Aristotle said of Greek drama, requires a beginning, a middle, and an end. I think this will save me from the cynicism expressed by Bertrand Russell before his death when he said: “There is darkness without, and when I die there will be darkness within. There is no splendor, no vastness anywhere, only triviality for a moment, and then nothing.”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;3. I shall not fall into the falsehood that this day, or any day, is merely another ambiguous and plodding twenty-four hours, but rather a unique event, filled, if I so wish, with worthy potentialities. I shall not be fool enough to suppose that trouble and pain are wholly evil parentheses in my existence, but just as likely ladders to be climbed toward moral and spiritual manhood.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;4. I shall not turn my life into a thin, straight line which prefers abstractions to reality. I shall know what I am doing when I abstract, which of course I shall often have to do.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;5. I shall not demean my own uniqueness by envy of others. I shall stop boring into myself to discover what psychological or social categories I might belong to. Mostly I shall simply forget about myself and do my work.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;6. I shall open my eyes and ears. Once every day I shall simply stare at a tree, a flower, a cloud, or a person. I shall not then be concerned at all to ask what they are but simply be glad that they are. I shall joyfully allow them the mystery of what Lewis calls their “divine, magical, terrifying and ecstatic” existence.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;7. I shall sometimes look back at the freshness of vision I had in childhood and try, at least for a little while, to be, in the words of Lewis Carroll, the “child of the pure unclouded brow, and dreaming eyes of wonder.”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;8. I shall follow Darwin’s advice and turn frequently to imaginative things such as good literature and good music, preferably, as Lewis suggests, an old book and timeless music.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;9. I shall not allow the devilish onrush of this century to usurp all my energies but will instead, as Charles Williams suggested, “fulfill the moment as the moment.” I shall try to live well just now because the only time that exists is now.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;10. Even if I turn out to be wrong, I shall bet my life on the assumption that this world is not idiotic, neither run by an absentee landlord, but that today, this very day, some stroke is being added to the cosmic canvas that in due course I shall understand with joy as a stroke made by the architect who calls himself Alpha and Omega.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;*Extracted from In Light of the Gospel.org*&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;    &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-1674295978273855376?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/1674295978273855376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=1674295978273855376' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/1674295978273855376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/1674295978273855376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/10/resolutions-for-mental-health.html' title='Resolutions for Mental Health'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-7661872835264994892</id><published>2008-10-04T15:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-04T15:36:40.766-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pick of the Week</title><content type='html'>I dont endorse Applebees as a habit. But because of my current circumstances, it becomes necessary to do many things that I wouldnt be caught dead doing other wise.&lt;br /&gt;Shopping at Walmart, on Saturday morning.&lt;br /&gt;Attending a local highschools band competition.&lt;br /&gt;Going to a diner for a chicken liver dinner&lt;br /&gt;Etc.&lt;br /&gt;But today I found myself at Barflebees, I mean Applebees and I found the most wonderful surprise.&lt;br /&gt;Pomagranite Margaritas.&lt;br /&gt;This thing was so good that I called Heather Lee from the dinner table.&lt;br /&gt;Its so good you would smack your momma if she tried to take a taste.&lt;br /&gt;Its so good that i am going to suggest that all of you go to Applebees and try it.&lt;br /&gt;Seriously.&lt;br /&gt;You should go there.&lt;br /&gt;Just for this drink.&lt;br /&gt;While your there you should get the spinach and artichoke dip and chips so that you dont look like an alcoholic and/or drink on an empty stomach. But you should go get this drink.&lt;br /&gt;Im telling you.&lt;br /&gt;Two Thumbs...WAY UP!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-7661872835264994892?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/7661872835264994892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=7661872835264994892' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/7661872835264994892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/7661872835264994892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/10/pick-of-week.html' title='Pick of the Week'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-7397047326982659697</id><published>2008-10-02T05:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-02T06:30:09.804-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What the...</title><content type='html'>My computer is ringing...&lt;br /&gt;Not my phone, my computer. It started this morning and I thought it was my alarm clock so I just kinda shook it off and got in the shower.&lt;br /&gt;But now, as I sit here reading my blogs and playing with my facebook, the ringing is most definitely coming from my computer speakers.&lt;br /&gt;There are no programs running other than my web browser. So to put a bandaid on a bleeding artery, i plugged in my headphones.&lt;br /&gt;AND THE DAMN THINGS ARE STILL RINGING!&lt;br /&gt;Like once a minute.&lt;br /&gt;What the ...?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So its like twenty minutes later. Ive unplugged the speakers. And they are still ringing. And now Im getting paranoid. So I start moving things around and find Noahs phone on the desk behind the computer monitor. Ryan confiscated it because the kid hasnt been returning Dad's calls very regularly and since were in town now Ryan can just go see him. Anyway, so the the battery is low, hence the regular ringing which was echoing off the back of the desk and sounding like it was coming from the left speaker. Ha. Glad to know im not nuts.&lt;br /&gt;Well not for that reason anyway!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-7397047326982659697?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/7397047326982659697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=7397047326982659697' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/7397047326982659697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/7397047326982659697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/10/what.html' title='What the...'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-7188140831488520577</id><published>2008-09-19T18:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-19T18:30:45.828-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sad Sad Things...</title><content type='html'>I am sitting here at my computer spending quality time with my husband watching...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aquateen Hunger Force.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you've never seen then you've NO idea. The shame, the shame. And it gets worse. I know the back story now, of the bit characters. We have philosophical discussions of the ramifications of the actions of Frylock, Meatwad and Shake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the worse part. I like it. I have a closet addiction, or not so much any more, to Adult Swim. The Venture Brothers, The Oblongs, Lucy Daughter of the Devil. Some of them are just tolerable like Stroker and Hoop and Home Movies but most of the Line Up is on the Tivo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well not Robot Chicken. Robot Chicken is terrible. Can I get an AMEN?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-7188140831488520577?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/7188140831488520577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=7188140831488520577' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/7188140831488520577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/7188140831488520577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/09/sad-sad-things.html' title='Sad Sad Things...'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-5380286623128584252</id><published>2008-09-18T08:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-18T08:55:21.408-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thought of the day.</title><content type='html'>I like to clean. Now if youve been to my house or seen my car, you are probably screaming, "Liar!" not unlike Miracle Max's Wife. I wont say that i do it often, because the moons have to be properly aligned:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to have a block of time set aside&lt;br /&gt;I have to have access to music&lt;br /&gt;I have to be alone&lt;br /&gt;I have to be headache free&lt;br /&gt;I have to be able to over come the call to inertia of any book I may be reading at the time&lt;br /&gt;and I have to be well fed so that I dont get distracted and start cooking something which will inevitably take me to the store, take prep time, cooking time and create a pile of dishes by which time Ryan will be home and I will no longer be alone and thus cannot clean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, the heavens cooperating, I am able to, I like organizing my belongings, taking stock of their condition, making lists of things that need to be purchased for future corralling of possessions, ie bookends, ashtrays for change and barrettes. I like the smell of dust spray and the moist look of well polished wood. I love fresh sheets. I like folding laundry, warm in my lap as it comes out of the dryer. And I love singing 99 Red Balloons at the top of my lungs while I do it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-5380286623128584252?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/5380286623128584252/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=5380286623128584252' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/5380286623128584252'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/5380286623128584252'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/09/thought-of-day.html' title='Thought of the day.'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-2849762213191844423</id><published>2008-09-13T07:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-13T07:48:28.101-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Well I Never...</title><content type='html'>Would have thought...&lt;br /&gt;I just read this this morning. It APPEARS that Ray Boltz came out of the closet. You know that man that wrote "Thank You For Giving To the Lord" and my personal favorite "Watch the Lamb" &lt;--- I cry like a baby every single time. Well I read this theology blog and they were talking about it and I went online other places and it was even already on Wikipedia.&lt;br /&gt;This happened YESTERDAY people. I havent even gotten to read the article myself, am supposing because there is such heavy traffic because I cant even get the paper to load. One of the commenters on the blog says the content is questionable. Well duh, its a gay and lesbian newspaper's website. They are not known for having subtle websites are they? &lt;-- blanket generalization statement yes I know.&lt;br /&gt;But this makes me sad, oh so sad. This man, who wrote these sweet loves songs to Jesus. Well I guess none of us are beyond sin, but still. I dont think it would have occured to me. That he got a divorce, sad yes that causes a media scandal but in this day in age not a huge one. But this, and that he is purporting that "God made Him this way", well I dont think anyone would read the essay I could write on the theological crap that is if I posted it here. My blood boils at Christian superstars spouting bad theology and making us all look like idiots.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Regardless, I'm shocked, oy I dont even want to think about my mother, she owns all his cd's, millions of people are going to be hurt and confused by this and not to mention the man himself.  So if your called to pray for the nation, not that we all aren't but you know what I mean,  your gonna wanna write this one down in the log book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry to be so quiet and then come out with this... its been a looong week at work and I just havent had the mental capacity.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-2849762213191844423?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/2849762213191844423/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=2849762213191844423' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/2849762213191844423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/2849762213191844423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/09/well-i-never.html' title='Well I Never...'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-9112920676908803297</id><published>2008-09-05T06:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-05T08:24:13.761-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ahoy There!</title><content type='html'>If you havent been reading recently and then decided to catch up youre in for quite the roller coaster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imagine if you will that you were shipwrecked and laying on a piece of something floaty (doesnt matter what youre dying here) and after about two days of drifting the middle of the ocean, seeing nothing but sun and sea and stillness you come to grips with the fact that you are about to bite it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So you go through a lot of deep philosophical thinking and imagining and reasonings that arent reasonable. (Afterall you are sunburnt and heat stroked and dehydrated. Oh and going to die, any better excuse for drama?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then because of Providence, (though some would call it coincidence however the improbability factor is something like 1 in 7,852,945,856,854) a submarine surfaces not 20 yards from you, (it has to be a submarine because neither you nor they saw the approach of the other, the arrival was drastic and sudden like lightening) and you are rescued, rehydrated, aloed and set back to reason. With renewed purpose perhaps but with the memory of the near death appreciation for all those things you thought you had lost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I listened to Gene Emersons message from this past Sunday this morning. Many of you wont have any idea what relevance that has to anything, but its safe to say, my drifting is somewhat subdued and I might hope finished.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why is it so dark Lord?" said me.&lt;br /&gt;"Because you've got your hands over your eyes." said He.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-9112920676908803297?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/9112920676908803297/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=9112920676908803297' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/9112920676908803297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/9112920676908803297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/09/ahoy-there.html' title='Ahoy There!'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-7223188967704265864</id><published>2008-09-03T17:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-03T17:11:13.882-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Drowning My Sorrows</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;"Aw… you're having a quarter life crisis. That’s so cute." Heather Lee says to me the other day as I am on the phone crying to her about one of the myriad of things I have been depressed about off and on in my life recently. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;You know how you make lists of things that you wanted to do with your life by the time you were XYZ? &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Well, I do not:&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;1.) Play the piano or guitar&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;2.) Speak three plus languages &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;3.) Own a luxury sedan&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;4.) Travel to Europe regularly&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;5.) Have a body that looks good in lingerie&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;6.) Fence &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;7.) Own a weapon I feel confident using&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I could go on. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;So heres the thing… and I want responses here people. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;A.) Am I the only one that is crawling out of my skin going why am I wasting away, then feeling totally insane for thinking that I need any of this stuff? &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;B.) How do you reconcile the fact that we are wives, mothers, servants, i.e. not given to our own pursuits? I mean, I love my husband. He is my best friend and he knows me and still loves me and were happy. That’s a rare thing. I get that. But I feel like the price I pay for having a happy home is … ME. And theres no guarantee, I know, just because I want those things does not mean I get to have them. My pursuits are my pursuits and I will give them up to God and His will again so even there, why is my head wrapped up in these things I think I want that wont make me happy anyway. Ugh… &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;C.) Am I wrong for thinking that I shouldn’t pursue any of those things in as much as Ryan doesn’t mind. I mean he doesn’t care. I can take guitar lessons. He certainly would support me. Except this nagging thing in my head that says all that time spent in a pursuit to satisfy my own vanity is not money or time well spent away from my home.  &lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Whats a girl to do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-7223188967704265864?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/7223188967704265864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=7223188967704265864' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/7223188967704265864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/7223188967704265864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/09/drowning-my-sorrows.html' title='Drowning My Sorrows'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-5602124768988571523</id><published>2008-08-28T15:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-28T16:01:16.135-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When It Rains...</title><content type='html'>So I have a job. And Ryan has a job. Well two actually.&lt;br /&gt;He finally got a call from this place he used to work back in the day and they hired him back.&lt;br /&gt;Its  here in Jasper, but since we wont be going to school for who knows how long, its better than commuting anywhere else.&lt;br /&gt;And he decided that since we have to pay student loans while we are not in school that he should get two jobs. So he went back to CVS (midwest Rite-Aid) where he used to work when I met him to get a part-time job. They love him there. So when they were looking for a pharmacy tech and he said "why dont you hire my wife" they did. No questions, no interview, no experience. LOL.&lt;br /&gt;I mean theres a DVD and you gotta pass a test. Im not that worried about it.&lt;br /&gt;So three jobs in one day.&lt;br /&gt;When it rains...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-5602124768988571523?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/5602124768988571523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=5602124768988571523' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/5602124768988571523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/5602124768988571523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/08/when-it-rains.html' title='When It Rains...'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-2204482105105455831</id><published>2008-08-26T16:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-26T16:32:53.103-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Town Crier</title><content type='html'>I dont remember when I became a crier. I remember distinctly laughing at my mom when she would cry at Hallmark commercials. I want to know when it happened to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did it happen to you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ive decided, I think, that I was not old enough to understand love or want, therefore comprehend loss or disappointment really so I could not grieve. Or maybe I've only become more of an empath as ive gotten older.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cry for lost fathers and spouses. I cry for deployed husbands and fathers. I cry for estranged mothers and daughters. All of these things I see on TV or hear in and song and I weep. Not just tear but weep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cried on Saturday. Most of the way home from Louisville I cried. I dont recommend crying while driving. But there was construction and no shoulder. None the less I survived.&lt;br /&gt;This time it was a different cry. I havent really been upset about the situation here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have been here a month with no real jobs. Ryan is so depressed with guilt because of everything that he is barely trying. He doesnt realize hes depressed so he wont talk to me about it. He wont see Noah. Im driving an hour and forty five minutes to work a terrible job that pays 8 dollars an hour for 16 hours a week. Just to have some income. And we missed the deadline for FAFSA, it passed while we were busy trying to move so now we dont get to go to school for a whole year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of this I had taken, or so I thought, with calm and reserve and patience. I was not angry, I was not aggravated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you know what set me off? HGTV's 10 Best Kitchens ... it doesnt seem germane I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got mad at God that I was never going to own a Viking Range. That because I was married to a man who could live in a cave and be happy and we lived in the middle of nowhere where there were no jobs and we were never going to finish school and I would never have a job that made any money and I would never have a kitchen with Italian tile and marble counters and a Viking range and then I got angry that I felt sinful for wanting all of those things but dammit I wanted them. So I cried ... isnt that silly?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-2204482105105455831?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/2204482105105455831/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=2204482105105455831' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/2204482105105455831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/2204482105105455831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/08/town-crier.html' title='Town Crier'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-9144498727613631757</id><published>2008-08-19T10:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-19T10:51:57.950-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Chasing the Goose</title><content type='html'>Laura sent me an awesome opportunity. Well, I didnt think it was so awesome at the time, at the time it was just a free book. But God know...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Digression...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Laura sent me this email about a blog tour. Mark Batterson has a new book and if you have a blog and will agree to review the book on your blog, you can get a free copy of the book to review. So I emailed and I guess my blog passed the test, cause I got the book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The plot...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont know who Mark Batterson is. Well, I did, but not by name. I knew that there was this church in DC that met at Union Station and Laura was absolutely over the moon about it. They have a phenomenal pastor, and great worship team and a unique outreach approach. Thriving congregation people our age and she collects his books.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enter God...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I email. Agree to review this book, because Laura says I should, simply on the argument that I have nothing better to do and on her word that it will be a good book and that she wants it when I am done with it (any body sensing a sub plot? :-))&lt;br /&gt;So I get the book. And I start to read. And I'll be a monkeys uncle if God did say, "Hey Laura, theres a book that you want and you dont have a blog so why dont you get Tina to get it for you." Just because I needed to read the book. I mean it was that specific.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the title is Wild Good Chase and it is about the reasons that we dont go after God when we see that we should. I intend to blog more heavily in the future, but I am not finished and have had to speed read just to get to chapter five so I dont feel I can do what I have read justice. Since today is the day of obligation according to the publisher or whatever let me say this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that I have a purpose. A very specific calling that I have been being crafted for my entire life. I have had a word. Someone else had a vision. This has been confirmed with my own heart, events in my life and my own gifts and desires.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I have two problems with this: Ryan. If my husband is not a christian, he cannot share my calling can he? I have screwed up my path. I know that God can fix it but...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;And the fact that I really dont know how to prepare myself to do what I am supposed to do. There are not practical applications. I dont know how to go to school for it. I dont know where to volunteer for it. In short. I dont know what to do. I guess its good because at the end of the day, I have to say that anything that gets done is God's strength and not my own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Many of you may have questions. If you dont know what I am talking about, you may feel upset that I have never told you. I have tried not to tell anyone.  I dont want to have questions asked. I dont want anyone to ask me what I am doing about what I am supposed to be doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;But I do know that I have obviously seen the Goose. And now, I dont know what to do. But I have admitted it to myself. So maybe thats a step.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you want to check out the book:  &lt;span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:12;"  &gt;&lt;a href="http://www.chasethegoose.com/" target="_blank"&gt;www.chasethegoose.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SKr8f5paFqI/AAAAAAAAADw/bZPOnrJ9wQY/s1600-h/image002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SKr8f5paFqI/AAAAAAAAADw/bZPOnrJ9wQY/s320/image002.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236275141752264354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:100%;color:purple;"   &gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:12;color:purple;"   &gt;Summary:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:purple;"  &gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:purple;"  &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:100%;color:black;"   &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:Garamond;font-size:12;color:black;"   &gt;Most of us have no idea where we’re going most of the time. Perfect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:black;"  &gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:black;"  &gt;“Celtic Christians had a name for the Holy Spirit–&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;An Geadh-Glas, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;or ‘the Wild Goose.’ The name hints at mystery. Much like a wild goose, the Spirit of God cannot be tracked or tamed. An element of danger, an air of unpredictability surround Him. And while the name may sound a little sacrilegious, I cannot think of a better description of what it’s like to follow the Spirit through life. I think the Celtic Christians were on to something….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most of us will have no idea where we are going most of the time. And I know that is unsettling. But circumstantial uncertainty also goes by another name: Adventure.” &lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;--from the introduction.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:100%;color:black;"   &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:Garamond;font-size:12;color:black;"   &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:100%;color:purple;"   &gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:12;color:purple;"   &gt;Author Bio:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Garamond;color:purple;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:Garamond;color:purple;"  &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:100%;color:black;"   &gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:12;color:black;"   &gt;Mark Batterson is the lead pastor of Washington, DC’s National Community Church, widely recognized as one of America’s most innovative churches. NCC meets in movie theaters at metro stops throughout the city, as well as in a church-owned coffee house near Union Station. More than seventy percent of NCC’ers are single twentysomethings who live or work on Capitol Hill. Mark is the author of the best-selling &lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;In a Pit with a Lion on a Snowy Day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt; and a widely read blogger (&lt;a href="http://www.markbatterson.com/" target="_blank"&gt;www.markbatterson.com&lt;/a&gt;). He lives on Capitol Hill with his wife, Lora, and their three children.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Or pick it up at www.barnesandnoble.com&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:100%;color:black;"   &gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:12;color:black;"   &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:100%;color:black;"   &gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:12;color:black;"   &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-9144498727613631757?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/9144498727613631757/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=9144498727613631757' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/9144498727613631757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/9144498727613631757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/08/chasing-goose.html' title='Chasing the Goose'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SKr8f5paFqI/AAAAAAAAADw/bZPOnrJ9wQY/s72-c/image002.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-6489764324615736952</id><published>2008-08-15T09:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-15T09:21:08.483-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Litmus Testing</title><content type='html'>Ryan and his mom were talking about his T-Shirts a couple of nights ago. The four of us tend to gather on the back porch (the house has a large over hang that makes it somewhat sheltered) during twilight hours and talk hither and thither. They are all smokers (Ryan reverts here) and I enjoy sitting among them and listening, free to join in, there's no awkwardness, or just be still in the semi out of doors. (It is a pity Mz. Lee that they are not wine drinkers or life would be grand indeed).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Im waxing narrative…  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;About the T-Shirts…&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Ryan has quite a collection of shirts with sundry sayings such as, "The urge to flee came suddenly," or "I gave my word to stop at third… XYZ Abstinence campaign 1987." and on and on. My personal favorite is, "Free sex and ice cream" which is I believe the title of a book by some author no one has ever heard of but him, or some such nonsense. So Denise asks him why the shirts and he says, "Well they are kinda like a litmus test. Mostly you are gonna get frowns and furrowed brows but every once in while, you get that dawning and the, "Dude, I totally read that book!" smile. Then you know who your friends are. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;While, of course, my husband would hardly pursue a relationship with anyone, whether they got his T-Shirt or not is another episode. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;But don’t we all do litmus testing? I do. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Used to be first thing out of our mouth between Laura and I when a new person came to our group was, "Yes but do they know the first rule of Fight Club?" LOL&lt;/p&gt;Dog people like dog people, People who have kids are drawn to people who have kids. Cat people dont like dog people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My most natural and first litmus testing was to be cruelly sarcastic to a new person I met to see if they got my sense of humor. Of course, getting my sense of humor and being willing to take an onslaught such as I would deal them are not the same thing and it was thus decided, not unfairly, that I was a great bitch, until people got to know me, which of course, most chose not to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;I thought of litmus testing this morning while making garlic oil for my scrambled eggs. Who among you does not keep Olive Oil in your kitchen? Or more truthfully, thinks that they could do without it? I used to be the traveling chef amongst a group or friends. I had to start carrying my pantry and utensils in my vehicle after one fateful event where I tried to "whip up" some dinner at a friend's house and ended up in tears trying to cut potatoes with a butter knife. It would never occur to me that there are people in the world who could live there whole existence without cooking oil and frying oil and olive oil, but im living in the home of one of them now. There was no church key here, no cheese slicer, no wine opener, no edgeless can opener, no pastry knife, no offset spatula, no wooden spoons. Who can live in a land like this? For me, the kitchen is a litmus test.   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Another good example is my tattoo. Many of you may not even know I have one. I have decided to no longer tell anyone what it means. To really do it justice, it involves a long story, and then it is only truly appreciate if you are a great geek as I am at heart. And I say this is a litmus test because if you are a great geek then I should only have to say one sentence and dawning would rush like a great tide and I would have to tell the entire story. But let me say, I have yet met only one person who ever understood directly. And I was sad because it was a stranger in passing and I shall never meet them again. But from now on I am only going to tell those who ask that it is a litmus test and if they pass, then they shall know. No one then, of course, shall know. Or if they do, I shall be very afraid. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Don't fret, for posterity, dear reader, and for all dear Josh's and the Triad's glory, I shall tell it one last time. But not today, this post is long enough. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-6489764324615736952?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/6489764324615736952/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=6489764324615736952' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/6489764324615736952'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/6489764324615736952'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/08/litmus-testing.html' title='Litmus Testing'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-7403405760733992148</id><published>2008-08-11T15:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-11T16:02:19.275-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Books on Tape</title><content type='html'>Since we are commuting for what I have resigned is two hours, I went to the library on Friday and got some books on tape. Crime and Punishment for him and Jane Eyre for me. I also got one fun thing for each of us, Garrison Keillor comedy show and some chick-lit book that looked amusing.&lt;br /&gt;And then, I have come to a fatal flaw in my plan. I have commuted to Louisville twice with my CD's and now dont wish to get out of my car.&lt;br /&gt;You see, I dont just read books. I consume them. And if I dont find them consumable by chapters three or four, then I dont finish them at all. There is rarely a "powering through" if you will. In fact, the only book that I found intolerable but I finished was Bram Stoker's Dracula. If, in fact, I have committed to reading them, I have committed to finishing them in entirety, usually in one sitting. I find it impalatable to work, or sleep or even dress when I am mid-book. I tend to stay up until I finish them, I have read at stop lights, in bathrooms, even with book under keyboard when I was supposed to be working. So now, with Jane Eyre caught with a torrent of love for her master and I with no commute tomorrow, am dumbfounded and about to go to check out the book from the library simply to have it finished. Which, of course, defeats the purpose. And the library, is closed as it is seven o'clock leaving me wonting and simpering and really very vexed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-7403405760733992148?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/7403405760733992148/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=7403405760733992148' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/7403405760733992148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/7403405760733992148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/08/books-on-tape.html' title='Books on Tape'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-3854809986933092000</id><published>2008-08-05T20:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-05T20:40:07.488-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Little Ponies</title><content type='html'>Well I have a job. Well its not really a job. More like an internship, in sense that it will cost me as much money to do the job as I will make.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found a farm near Louisville that breeds race horses. I start working in their barn tomorrow for a whopping $7.50 for 15-20 hours a week. When you consider that my commute at this moment is 80 miles each way... You do the math.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But its an foot in the door of the thing that I think that I want to do when I grow up. If nothing else, I get to play with the ponies.&lt;br /&gt;6 of them are carrying now. I hope I get to see one borned!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-3854809986933092000?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/3854809986933092000/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=3854809986933092000' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/3854809986933092000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/3854809986933092000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/08/my-little-ponies.html' title='My Little Ponies'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-4924452271368454185</id><published>2008-08-03T14:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-04T06:29:07.454-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Seven Things</title><content type='html'>Seven is the number of:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New CD's I made for the drive to Cincinnati -&lt;br /&gt;      1.) Katy Perry&lt;br /&gt;      2 &amp;amp; 3.) Death Cab for a Cutie - Narrow Stairs &amp;amp; Plans&lt;br /&gt;      4.)  Ben Folds - Rockin the Suburbs&lt;br /&gt;       5.) Regina Spektor - Begin to Hope (Mixed with Hot Hot Heat)&lt;br /&gt;      6 &amp;amp; 7.) Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs - Fever to Tell and Show Your Bones&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Times my husband has preferred me this week:&lt;br /&gt;      1.) We've played tennis in the middle of the day (yikes!) twice this week because I'm bored.&lt;br /&gt;      2.) He took apart and stored the 6 ft in diameter bean bag chair that his sister left his our             closet.&lt;br /&gt;      3.) He crawled in the trailer (metal) in the middle of the day to find my black dress shoes.&lt;br /&gt;      4.) He stopped reading to help me beat Mario 2. (We have a classic Nintendo in our room)&lt;br /&gt;      5.) He let me tag along when he went job hunting so that I wouldnt be bored even though he         wanted to go alone.&lt;br /&gt;      6.) He didnt say a word when I over drew the checking account last week because I thought&lt;br /&gt;      I got paid on the 30th and I got paid on the 31st.&lt;br /&gt;      7.) He is careful not to monopolize the computer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The number of Jobs in the entire Sunday paper that I am actually qualified for (unless you count cherry picking... and thats not a joke)&lt;br /&gt;1.) Imellizzerri's Pizza Kitchen is hiring servers.&lt;br /&gt;2.) Doctors office needs friendly, but not experienced people.&lt;br /&gt;3.) Blue Jean Job - Company car; promises 1000K per week. No word on what you have to deliver.&lt;br /&gt;4.) Housepainters&lt;br /&gt;5.) Mailroom sorters - this is temporary&lt;br /&gt;6.) Household manager - this looks promising, I have done some personal assisting.&lt;br /&gt;And my personal favorite...&lt;br /&gt;7.) Son of a Sailor Seafood is also hiring servers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-4924452271368454185?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/4924452271368454185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=4924452271368454185' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/4924452271368454185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/4924452271368454185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/08/seven-things.html' title='Seven Things'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-4784339388892255440</id><published>2008-07-31T21:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-31T22:05:16.123-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tick...Tock...</title><content type='html'>Time stands still here. Its the oddest sensation. I have been here for four days and I feel at the same time like I have been both here for a month and an hour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ryan thinks he may have a job. We're not sure because we have to wait until Monday when the temp agency has more jobs. Apparently in Kentuckiana, they run out of jobs. More than one temp agency we went to was closed in the middle of the day on Wednesday because they had no jobs to hire people for. Bizzarro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am listening to the song that plays during the trailer for "Pineapple Express". Its not like anything I usually listen to but I like it. I think that movie is going to be hysterical. I hope so anyway.&lt;br /&gt;Seth Rogen was on Fresh Air today on NPR. Yesterday it was Rainn Wilson. Thats one thing I will say about the commute. We get to listen to the radio a lot. And because we switch from an Evansville NPR station to a Louisville station we can hit almost any show we want. I have decided that the Fresh Air chick has by far the best job ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway. I dont have anything deep or philosophical to discuss because nothing has happened.&lt;br /&gt;Oh except Denise (Ryans mom) has a Chrysler Crossfire (little sporty convertible) and I think it may be the most poorly designed car I have ever had occasion to be in. You sit to high for the windshield, the arm rest is too low but you cant rest your arm on the top of the door cause its about level with your shoulder. Its just strange.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, thats my life. I got new batteries for my camera but the fourth dog is gone now so theres no point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Point of interest ---&gt; this town was founded by a bunch of Germans and this weekend is the &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Strassenfest&lt;/span&gt; (beer and sausage festival). Usually at least one of Ryans friends gets arrested for public intox so that should be fun. If we go I should have some pictures of that at least.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Im signing off.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-4784339388892255440?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/4784339388892255440/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=4784339388892255440' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/4784339388892255440'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/4784339388892255440'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/07/ticktock.html' title='Tick...Tock...'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-7324970578038120067</id><published>2008-07-27T03:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-27T03:51:21.210-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Into the Wild MidWestevez...</title><content type='html'>So today I am off... Its early and I am tired. But I was thinking about you. Yes you reading this blog. I was thinking about all the times we laughed together, (or you at least laughed at my expense and I pretended to laugh with you) and shared sweet moments and argued deep philosophical points. How we drank red wine or coffee and ate weird fantastic cheeses and chocolates while dishing about the books we cant get enough of; the men we love despite the rest of the world and just all around had a pretty great time.&lt;br /&gt;I will miss you my sweet dear friend.&lt;br /&gt;In the words of the great poet (snicker) MWS i leave you with this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pray for me&lt;br /&gt;and I'll pray for you&lt;br /&gt;and one day Love will bring us back around... again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciao Bellas, Be Well, Please Write and I hope to see you soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-7324970578038120067?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/7324970578038120067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=7324970578038120067' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/7324970578038120067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/7324970578038120067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/07/into-wild-midwestevez.html' title='Into the Wild MidWestevez...'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-4011925191697787854</id><published>2008-07-25T08:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-25T08:48:05.840-07:00</updated><title type='text'>???</title><content type='html'>I dont know what is up with the font.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-4011925191697787854?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/4011925191697787854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=4011925191697787854' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/4011925191697787854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/4011925191697787854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/07/blog-post.html' title='???'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-1958251534586068973</id><published>2008-07-25T08:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-25T08:47:24.552-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mirror Mirror In My Heart...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:100%;"  &gt;What do we think of my sunflowers? They are kinda Mid-Westy and I was tired of being so average. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;My daddy is here !!! I am so excited. I love to see my dad. It is the best benefit I find of moving out of my house. There is nothing better, well almost nothing better than the minute I see my dad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SIn1ChM2dLI/AAAAAAAAADQ/zUacXP4j2oY/s1600-h/Daddy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SIn1ChM2dLI/AAAAAAAAADQ/zUacXP4j2oY/s320/Daddy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226978266160985266" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Except that hes old. I don’t remember when he got old. I do remember that hes been old for a while but I don’t remember when exactly that it happened. Maybe it was the cancer. Or maybe I just became an adult.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;h1&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;I bought a new book the other day. Well two new books but the one of interest to this story is, “The Question of God: C.S. Lewis and Sigmund Freud Debate God, Love, Sex, and the Meaning of Life” it was in the back of the truck today and he picked it up and started to flip through it. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h1&gt;  &lt;h1&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;It occurs to me now at that moment (not that it never had before) where my father reads the book I bought to engender philosophical conversation with my spouse, that I married my father. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h1&gt;  &lt;h1&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;I went from desperately loving and seeking the approval of one man who couldn’t share or appreciate my faith in Christ to desperately loving and seeking another who couldn’t. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h1&gt;  &lt;h1&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;(Those of you who know both Ryan and my father know that that does not even begin the list of similarities, but that’s another show.)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h1&gt;  &lt;h1&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;What I want to talk about today is why someone does this? In the grand scheme of the universe is there some generational link betwixt a woman with an unsaved father marrying into the same? Did I have a choice? (This is rhetorical, I know I did) But were my heart not already sealed? &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h1&gt;  &lt;h1&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:11;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Today my heart is heavy. Heavy with love, heavy with sadness and heavy with feeling absolutely ineffective.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h1&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-1958251534586068973?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/1958251534586068973/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=1958251534586068973' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/1958251534586068973'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/1958251534586068973'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/07/what-do-we-think-of-my-sunflowers-they.html' title='Mirror Mirror In My Heart...'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SIn1ChM2dLI/AAAAAAAAADQ/zUacXP4j2oY/s72-c/Daddy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-2872717665923115347</id><published>2008-07-24T09:06:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-24T09:07:37.878-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Duality</title><content type='html'>Why in all this time has no one told me that Jessica Rockey and I have the same title for our blogs? I am so not even as original as I thought.&lt;br /&gt;This is severely depressing.&lt;br /&gt;Now I have to go eat Chinese food to recover.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-2872717665923115347?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/2872717665923115347/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=2872717665923115347' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/2872717665923115347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/2872717665923115347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/07/duality.html' title='Duality'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-7633747313946435893</id><published>2008-07-23T08:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-23T08:48:58.125-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Is It In You?</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;“I just don’t see what’s funny about putting somebody through a wood chipper.” &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;As soon as the words have left Bekah Judd’s mouth I start to snicker. &lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will admit, my sense of humor is not quite right. &lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night while sitting outside Baker’s Crust with Bekah and Amy Bare; we got onto a vein of discussing dark comedies and I found myself referencing several movies that neither of them had ever seen. Death to Smoochy, Running with Scissors, The Royal Tennanbaums, etc. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Some of which &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;they (like many people I now assume) had never even heard of. At some point it occurs to me that I have come to love these ladies dearly despite the fact that they cannot recite even the First Rule of Fight Club, much less the other seven. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Believe me, this is a HUGE wormhole in my own personal dogma of the value of another human being. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I digress. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I began to think about why I like the things that I do, why I think they are funny and what makes me appreciate humor. (Don’t be surprised that I can post “I began to think” every day because usually I have some ephiphanical {yes I just made that word up} revelation about my own rabbit holes as soon as I allow myself to begin to think about them. Probably why I never did mind altering drugs. I get lost enough in my own head sober, can’t imagine if I took off the leash and went wandering.)&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I digress. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;So my favorite movies are those that show the problems of humanity in an exaggerated form. &lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The family disfucntionality of The Royals, Running with Scissors, White Oleander, Little Miss Sunshine&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The need find truth outside the tangible world Fight Club, Pi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Or just the raw depravity of man: Kill Bill, The Machinist, Reservoir Dogs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Lets not just TALK about the pink elephants, lets research them, dissect them, train them, put them on parade, and write a book about “500 Hundred Ways to Cook an Elephant” That’s my thought anyway, but I don’t have boundary issues, I don’t even have boundaries.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;But the more I think about it the more I find that I enjoy those things not because they reflect society in an honest affronting way but because they resonate with something inside myself. They put a thought, an event, a desire from my own life up on a screen and say see, you’re not the only freak in the world. Someone else went through this, thought this, did this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I remember distinctly an occasion in sixth grade Sunday school where our teachers drew a “line in the sand” and asked us to cross it if we would commit not to use drugs and alcohol. I was the only one who didn’t move. I believed firmly in not “putting before God” in sixth grade a covenant that I had no idea whether or not I was going to even want to keep when I became an adult. All my peers were sure there was something wrong with me. Was a pledging to be bad?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;While studying Oedipus Rex in Greek Lit my teacher asked for a show of hands if we thought we could kill our own fathers. I was the only one who did. He praised me as the only honest one in the class. I thought perhaps it was not honesty but self-awareness. Not that have ever wanted to hurt my father. Aside my husband, my dad is my favorite person in the world, but understanding my heart as it is; knowing given XYZ circumstancing having been different, had there been abuse, had I been a psychopath ...there but for Christ. I am not who I could be. &lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t think about it often. But when I do, I have to admit, its there. The person I could have been; the person but for God that I could have become. A drug addict or a runaway. A co-dependant lover or a self-help junkie, a unitarian, a call-girl, a wicca or just a bored pampered suburban housewife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Maybe that’s why Bekah doesn’t think using a wood chipper to dispose of a body is funny. It never would have occurred to her to do that. Perhaps being a killer isn't in her. Even naturally. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I however, might have done it. After further examination though it seems like a good way to get caught. Too much liquid evidence. No DNA containment. I would hope I would have been smarter than that. (Although, I think if he had a choice, its the kinda way Steve Buscemi would have wanted to go, we were talking about Fargo.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;If you gotta dump a body, I think a pig farm is definitely the way to go. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-7633747313946435893?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/7633747313946435893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=7633747313946435893' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/7633747313946435893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/7633747313946435893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/07/is-it-in-you.html' title='Is It In You?'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-4838035375117291375</id><published>2008-07-22T05:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-22T05:56:05.658-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What a way to start the day...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SIXY0QORTuI/AAAAAAAAAC4/afwBJfi3nBc/s1600-h/010.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SIXY0QORTuI/AAAAAAAAAC4/afwBJfi3nBc/s320/010.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225821334852947682" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saw the sunrise this morning. Tara, her sister Rachel, her best friend Julie and I have a semi tradition of watching the sunrise and eating pancakes at the beach. The place we always go has been replaced by condos, so we had to go to IHOP cause we couldnt find anything else open, but what a beautiful sunrise, don'tcha think?&lt;img src="file:///C:/Users/tkraft/AppData/Local/Temp/moz-screenshot-5.jpg" alt="" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="file:///C:/Users/tkraft/AppData/Local/Temp/moz-screenshot-6.jpg" alt="" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-4838035375117291375?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/4838035375117291375/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=4838035375117291375' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/4838035375117291375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/4838035375117291375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/07/what-way-to-start-day.html' title='What a way to start the day...'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SIXY0QORTuI/AAAAAAAAAC4/afwBJfi3nBc/s72-c/010.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-3125815279352779525</id><published>2008-07-21T13:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-21T13:47:20.980-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Where Have Your Feet Been?</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Did you know that elephants don’t leave footprints? Don’t quote me on this, I heard it first person from an elephant this morning so I can’t vouch for it’s veracity. It got me thinking though. A three ton animal takes a step and nothing. Wow. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I began to think about my footprints; those I make and those that have been made upon me. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;If I could ask God one question (this week) it would be: why do we remember the things that we do? What causes one moment to stand up out of years and be a totem of a summer, a person, a lifetime? &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;My grandmother is selling her home on Martha’s Vineyard. I’ve only been there 5 or so times my whole life I don’t remember any of the more recent visits. I remember the ones when I was little: A cut on the blackberry bushes, the rope swing, having tea at Mrs. Jackie’s house. Well, I remember her cat anyway. And her sofa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;What’s the formula for that magic moment when a person’s foot sinks in? &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;For Tara it was a trip to the mall. With Ryan it was the day that we quietly, unknowingly outsmarted the entire Spanish class. Others even more recently, I couldn’t tell you. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;What makes one foot print deeper than others? &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I have a friend who I love very dearly who was never supposed to be my friend. Now I know this sounds weird, but he was my brother’s friend when we were kids, then my friend’s brother when we were older and later on he was another friend’s boyfriend. During none of this time did we spend any great amount of time together developing our relationship. Bradley and my brother aren’t close anymore, neither are the girls and I but somehow he and I are and will always be friends. I have other friends whose siblings I have spent more hours with, had more fun with, but none whose company I was gladder of. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;What do my foot prints look like? &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I know that when I leave my footprints will be left deeply in certain places. Mz. Lee is still in the denial stage of her grief. Rachel Wilkinson and I will ever be inseparable in spirit when given the opportunity. I don’t doubt that I have friends. But I do wonder if they have served any purpose other than shifting earth. Have I been the step that pushed a seed into the ground so that it might take root? Have I crushed a bug that later might have bitten someone? Have I created a puddle that a thirsty frog might drink? Or just made mudpies? &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Maybe that will be my question for God next week.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-3125815279352779525?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/3125815279352779525/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=3125815279352779525' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/3125815279352779525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/3125815279352779525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/07/where-have-your-feet-been.html' title='Where Have Your Feet Been?'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-6490902886853049244</id><published>2008-07-17T09:35:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-17T09:35:53.392-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mama Mia Girls, You know you wanna...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SH901zmSyAI/AAAAAAAAACw/UsQ990GKkus/s1600-h/DSCN1675.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SH901zmSyAI/AAAAAAAAACw/UsQ990GKkus/s320/DSCN1675.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224022560505776130" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-6490902886853049244?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/6490902886853049244/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=6490902886853049244' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/6490902886853049244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/6490902886853049244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/07/mama-mia-girls-you-know-you-wanna.html' title='Mama Mia Girls, You know you wanna...'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SH901zmSyAI/AAAAAAAAACw/UsQ990GKkus/s72-c/DSCN1675.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-929650840971423161</id><published>2008-07-17T06:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-17T06:17:39.991-07:00</updated><title type='text'>PARADIGM...Not to be confused with a pachyderm</title><content type='html'>Anybody else think that care group last night was a little weird?&lt;br /&gt;I mean it has never been any particular dream of mine to hijack specific sections of time to have people all focus on me. (Unless of course I have a great story.) But last night, I was not in command of the attention and it was unnerving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I guess the crazy part is that God hijacked the meeting, all to remind me what a proud little sinner I am. How insane! I didn't expect, didn't seek prayer, it hadn't even occurred to me that I might need it. I was oblivious. We believe  the Lord will go to great lengths to maintain His children, sure. When its is manipulating circumstance in a random way to fulfill a need. I dont think any of us would think twice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But when you are off, in your own little kingdom, licking your wounds and telling yourself how well you are bearing your cross considering the circumstances and He takes over the prayers and issues forth the scriptures of those around you to say, "You spoilt little child, why dont you stop crying in your mudpie and come eat at the table all the good things I've made for you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WOW.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He pursued me. Not just followed me but chased me, caught me up out of my circumstantial view and shook me. And to what end? So that I would be less of a sinner, sure. But so that I could go forth with Joy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please God, don't ever leave me to my own paradigm.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-929650840971423161?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/929650840971423161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=929650840971423161' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/929650840971423161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/929650840971423161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/07/paradigmnot-to-be-confused-with.html' title='PARADIGM...Not to be confused with a pachyderm'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-3088725589350330780</id><published>2008-07-15T13:36:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-16T07:22:45.899-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Free Rice Game</title><content type='html'>On the left hand side of my blog is a link to a cool site I heard about on NPR. Its a vocab game that lets you "donate" to the United Nations World Food Program.&lt;br /&gt;I am a word nerd. So its a great game for me.&lt;br /&gt;I am up to level 41.&lt;br /&gt;Tell me how high you get!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-3088725589350330780?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/3088725589350330780/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=3088725589350330780' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/3088725589350330780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/3088725589350330780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/07/free-rice-game.html' title='Free Rice Game'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-5470366096282680565</id><published>2008-07-15T07:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-15T07:19:12.782-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Movie Madness...</title><content type='html'>Are you into movies? I am probably more than the average bear. Not all movies mind you, they have to have history, sub-culture, subversion, an awesome director or just be wack enough that most people wouldn't go see it and then I will probably be wholly devoted. Examples this month's blockbusters:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am going to see Mama Mia this Saturday with the Fabulous Heather Lee and some friends of hers from USAA where I used to work. I have my silk 70's style dress and am seriously considering the purchase of one pair of white patent leather platform boots to go with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is not the madness... this is just normal movie going for me and HL. (And as a matter of fact, if any of you would like to come, 70's garb or not, you should join the love! Let me know!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am psyched about going to see Hellboy. I like comic book movies. I have enjoyed watching Del Toro progress as a director and to watch things through his eyes is really neat. Hes twisted, like Tim Burton, but in a beautifully artsy way,  not just dark and well dark. He had good character development in the first one which is more than you can say for some of the Marvel films. But none the less I am drawn to the comic book and even graphic novel genre and sub-cult.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a young person, I collected Marvel comics and cards and can tell you names stats and favorite foods of my favorite super heroes... this is a little more like madness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the worst of all by far is Batman. Not that I am "into" Batman, but I will kudos Christian Bale. The Machinist was awesome. As Batman I like him better than Michael Keaton. Some will call that blasphemy, but being the first does not, in fact, make you the best.  I am excited to see Ms. Gyllenhaal finally get some recognition. But as far as caring about loyalty to storyline, or the fact that they switched girlfriends, (Maggie can act better than Katie anyway) or truthiness of mythology, I could careless.&lt;br /&gt;I am and will go to see Batman at IMAX     for the Harry Potter trailer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that ladies and gentleworms, makes me truly mad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-5470366096282680565?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/5470366096282680565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=5470366096282680565' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/5470366096282680565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/5470366096282680565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/07/movie-madness.html' title='Movie Madness...'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-4259115760545329035</id><published>2008-07-14T06:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-14T06:35:21.753-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Firming Things Up</title><content type='html'>I will be leaving town on the 26th of July. Since we have two cars and both of us will have to make the 12 hour drive, my dad is flying down to drive back in my car with me. Three cheers for dad's! Aren't they just the best!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since dad is coming, Ryan my go ahead and leave town early, which means I will be free like a single girl to do anything. So hit me up if want to!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CIAO!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-4259115760545329035?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/4259115760545329035/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=4259115760545329035' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/4259115760545329035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/4259115760545329035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/07/firming-things-up.html' title='Firming Things Up'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-1967996488096053914</id><published>2008-07-11T06:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-11T06:57:42.118-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thoughts</title><content type='html'>I don't know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve.&lt;br /&gt; - JRR Tolkien&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If there is no God, who pops up the next Kleenex in the box?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-1967996488096053914?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/1967996488096053914/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=1967996488096053914' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/1967996488096053914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/1967996488096053914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/07/thoughts.html' title='Thoughts'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-390908769058384950</id><published>2008-07-11T06:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-11T06:17:19.323-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Giraffes... Really</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SHdcnqbR5cI/AAAAAAAAACo/BoxhONBbBhY/s1600-h/logo.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SHdcnqbR5cI/AAAAAAAAACo/BoxhONBbBhY/s320/logo.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221744129432741314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   Has anyone noticed a recent trend towards Giraffes? Maybe its just me, but since we just went to the Cincinnati Zoo and they are giraffe crazy (apparently they just got some or something, they have this huge ad campaign about how you can feed the giraffe which is a lie because they are scared of people. But have they pulled the television ads. Nooooo) and then I am driving to work today and I see an add for the Norfolk Zoo, oh sorry the Virginia Zoo and it has a giraffe on it and I am like what is the deal. They are not neat creatures. I mean they are rather like cows, they just stand around and eat all day. But then there are huge television shows on mere cats who are just rodents. Noah's favorite animal at the zoo was the rhinoceros. Now there is an exciting animal! But whatever. I remember when the buzz was all about tigers. Those were the days.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-390908769058384950?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/390908769058384950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=390908769058384950' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/390908769058384950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/390908769058384950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/07/giraffes-really.html' title='Giraffes... Really'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SHdcnqbR5cI/AAAAAAAAACo/BoxhONBbBhY/s72-c/logo.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-8260788797736243790</id><published>2008-07-10T10:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-10T10:59:54.032-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Admiring the Arts</title><content type='html'>I am 99% sure we are going to this tomorrow. If any of you want to "run into us", Mindy. Not that its too late to pull a stunt like that or anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't you love the effects of postmodernism in our society. Is art or a consumer good? If you say its not art, you are closed minded. HA HA HA! I say its crap. But were going to make our own T-Shirts! (Ryan has a slight T-shirt fetish)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(78, 98, 10);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;strong&gt;Transformed&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;             &lt;p style="margin-top: 0pt;"&gt;              &lt;span class="h4"&gt;Friday, July 11,   7pm &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            Contemporary Art Center of Virginia&lt;br /&gt;            2200 Parks Ave., Virginia   Beach&lt;br /&gt;            Limited to 250 guests&lt;br /&gt;    $5 per ticket for cover; cash bar&lt;/p&gt;             &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0pt;"&gt;Experience your own transformation at this art opening featuring Elm &amp;amp; Oak (Exclusive Limited Merchandise &amp;amp; One of a Kinds) and &lt;a href="http://www.myspace.com/gregagain"&gt;DJ Greg Again&lt;/a&gt;. There will be a graffiti art installation and you can create your own T-shirts with custom screen-printing at the event. Dance ‘till the music stops and enjoy light catering. Adults 18 and older only, please.&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;/p&gt;             &lt;p style="margin-top: 0pt;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.cacv.org/exhibitions/upcoming.asp"&gt;Transformed&lt;/a&gt; is a group exhibition of two dimensional, sculptural, installation, and video works that address the unrestrained potential of familiar, domestic, and mass-produced goods as they transcend their everyday roles in our lives.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-8260788797736243790?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/8260788797736243790/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=8260788797736243790' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/8260788797736243790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/8260788797736243790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/07/admiring-arts.html' title='Admiring the Arts'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-3922680701346506509</id><published>2008-07-10T07:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-10T09:40:06.749-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Spinach Juice</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SHYjYL-WMyI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Zj1jKqnN2aQ/s1600-h/bolthouse-green.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SHYjYL-WMyI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Zj1jKqnN2aQ/s320/bolthouse-green.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221399716420793122" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; So I am just so upset about this I have to put it on here. I bought some juice a couple days ago. I bought this juice.&lt;br /&gt;Now if you look at the bottle it would lead you to believe that its apple-kiwi juice would it not? I mean, thats what the picture says.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I buy it and I drink it and it tastes...funny. So I start reading the label and this is what it says:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="bluetext"&gt;"Bolthouse Farms Green Goodness starts with incredibly nutritious things like wheat grass, spirulina, spinach - even blue-green algae." that came from the website. The ingredients also say broccoli and garlic.&lt;br /&gt;Look at the bottle again. Now read spinach, broccoli and garlic.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not even going to get into the algae right now.&lt;br /&gt;Then the go on to say they make all that stuff taste good by masking it with the flavors of apple and kiwi. Well they dont say mask of course, thats my word.&lt;br /&gt;So I am telling Laura (the most health aware person I know intimately) about this and she laughs and says, "I support you consuming seaweed." To which I say, "As a health conscious person or as a sadist?"&lt;br /&gt;"As a sadist," she says, "I have no idea of the health benefits of seaweed."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With friends like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-3922680701346506509?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/3922680701346506509/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=3922680701346506509' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/3922680701346506509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/3922680701346506509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/07/spinach-juice.html' title='Spinach Juice'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SHYjYL-WMyI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Zj1jKqnN2aQ/s72-c/bolthouse-green.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-8781313386988320968</id><published>2008-07-07T13:16:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-07T13:17:35.629-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;Theouj, o9shn, fjahtne skjetn slkadhnd  hdfn . Therhunhn htnhe m,snbsk. Prjlw 's whenr vh. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;WEhrn I  fwefn  ro wgo to vo w dni knwno ol sopw owoultjo sl f;is . &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;Don't you agree? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-8781313386988320968?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/8781313386988320968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=8781313386988320968' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/8781313386988320968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/8781313386988320968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/07/theouj-o9shn-fjahtne-skjetn-slkadhnd.html' title=''/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-7023223562828950619</id><published>2008-07-04T19:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-04T20:01:27.500-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Are you ever just amazed at what a sinner you are? I am. Yesterday was a bad day. I lost my temper. I judged a bunch of people.  I was haughty. Would you believe that? Not me huh?&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, it was. I was floored with myself at how a little change of scenery lent to such a big change in my mentality. When you are around Christians, its so easy to be a Christian. Mel always says I am honest about myself. Well, that clear glass is shiny enough to reflect whomever happens to be next to me apparently, and it hasnt been Jesus. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But, in His kindness, He is with me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Last night Ryan went out (late) to shoot some fireworks with some friends, and I went to bed. Well, this morning, I was up bright and early, well, at 845 which is atleast respectable. At 1145, I was angry with Ryan because he was still asleep and I was bored. So I took myself for a walk, and I cried out to the Lord, because I knew that I should not be angry and I knew that I was being unfair. And He met me. And I was able to remind myself that love does not prefer itself. And I went home and we had a good day. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So thank you Lord, for always being there when I need you.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-7023223562828950619?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/7023223562828950619/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=7023223562828950619' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/7023223562828950619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/7023223562828950619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/07/are-you-ever-just-amazed-at-what-sinner.html' title=''/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-6271205780372439920</id><published>2008-07-01T04:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-01T05:10:25.780-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Do You Zoo?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#006600;"&gt;We went to the zoo yesterday. Do you like the zoo? I don't like the zoo. It's hot and the animals are always asleep and it's expensive and a lot of walking for nothing. But the Cincinnati Zoo...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#006600;"&gt;I loved this zoo. I'm not sure if it was the fact that it rained all morning so it was 80 degrees all day. Or the fact that the around the park train was really noisy so when it went by it caused all the animals to perk up. (So you got to see them move at least) or the fact that the park itself is a botanical garden so the entire thing is landscaped gorgeously. We saw lots of monkeys, (we even saw one poop in his hand and eat it), we saw wolves up pretty close, we went into a bird house where you could get a cup of nectar to fee the birds. Now this was probably the most amusing part of the day. We didnt get the nectar, I mean I asked Noah if he wanted to but I think he was a little scared. (Noah is a big kid and he's nine, but he's afraid of a lot. Dogs, the dark, being alone, asserting himself etc.) We go into this bird house and there are several different kinds of birds going every which way but because there are several kids who have nectar cups and not a lot of bird eating the nectar, the keeper reached up and shook the tree where the all were AND THERE WAS A GREAT WHOOSHING. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#006600;"&gt;Oh my, that face. You would have thought the bombs were falling. Perhaps I'm cruel but it was funny. Anyway, we hung out there for a little while and one bird decided to eat the string on Ryans sweatshirt and we got to pet it and it crawled around on me and Ryan. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SGoeLk623uI/AAAAAAAAAAs/eFI10YAO250/s1600-h/bird.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218016302500077282" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SGoeLk623uI/AAAAAAAAAAs/eFI10YAO250/s320/bird.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#006600;"&gt;So I think Noah made his peace a little with aviary kind. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SGoeLk623uI/AAAAAAAAAAs/eFI10YAO250/s1600-h/bird.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#006600;"&gt;As we left, I told Ryan perhaps we should get a lorikeet. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#006600;"&gt;Well today is the waterpark. Gee, fun. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#006600;"&gt;On a positive note. Ryan's friend Chad plays in a weekly volleyball game and has invited us to play. It's an answer to prayer. Well, a prayer I hadn't spoken out loud even because I have wanted to be able to do something a little more active with Ryan had had just asked him a few days ago if we could look for a volleyball team to join. Since Chad already plays and he knows some of the other people, he was eager to play I think.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#006600;"&gt;So thanks Lord for meeting my needs before I ask. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-6271205780372439920?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/6271205780372439920/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=6271205780372439920' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/6271205780372439920'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/6271205780372439920'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/07/do-you-zoo.html' title='Do You Zoo?'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SGoeLk623uI/AAAAAAAAAAs/eFI10YAO250/s72-c/bird.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-6818727758697232130</id><published>2008-06-27T06:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-27T06:50:29.878-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Changing Spots?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SGTwBF6LS6I/AAAAAAAAAAk/DZgtIamOyv0/s1600-h/Alice.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 142px; height: 117px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SGTwBF6LS6I/AAAAAAAAAAk/DZgtIamOyv0/s320/Alice.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216558169958599586" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Twas pondering if my blog title would cause my marriage peril&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;when my wandering eyes spotted a volume by Lewis Carroll.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;A-ha, Dear Alice, you're off to face Wonderland&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;as you follow, not the White Rabbit, but your dear sweet husband.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Alright, I'm done.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;But perhaps the Looking Glass is more apropos. There are wonderful characters in Wonderland. Good times to be had. Sure, theres the Jabberwocky. But does he get Alice in the end?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Actually does he? I've never read the book.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;So this has nothing to do with the title of blog.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;I love my husband. If you don't know or have doubts about that, let me just say, he is absolutely without a doubt the smartest, wittiest, most clever man I have ever met. Not only that, but he gets my sense of humor. And if you've met me then you know, that about does it for me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;So this man, light of my life, tells me last night about all the things that we can go and do in Louisville.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Now if you know anything about my life, you know, we are not go'er's and do'er's. Well, I am. But anyway. And I say to him. "Baby, we don't go and do now, why are we going to go and do there?" And he says to me. "Because I won't want to shoot everyone I come across the minute I step out of the house."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SGTvH1KbbkI/AAAAAAAAAAc/uz7dT-F6xYM/s1600-h/Ben+Rocks.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SGTvH1KbbkI/AAAAAAAAAAc/uz7dT-F6xYM/s320/Ben+Rocks.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216557186210819650" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Now what I want to know is, Am I crazy because I don't believe the leopard knows the color of his own spots or is the leopard color blind?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;On a plus note, Ben Folds will be in concert in Louisville on Oct 4th. Eat that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-6818727758697232130?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/6818727758697232130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=6818727758697232130' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/6818727758697232130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/6818727758697232130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/06/changing-spots.html' title='Changing Spots?'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SGTwBF6LS6I/AAAAAAAAAAk/DZgtIamOyv0/s72-c/Alice.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1325928985500901404.post-8813112638388065407</id><published>2008-06-26T07:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-26T07:49:35.160-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kentuckiana'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mothering'/><title type='text'>A New Beginning ... Again</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;So I'm blogging... again. I guess I haven't felt the need as much when I have lived in Virginia Beach. Here I have an list of friends to call at all hours to dish about whatever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Soon, while I am in Kentuckiana, I will still have those friends, but somehow the distance will make me a little more forlorn, a little more dramatic and a lot more likely to occupy my time musing into the nothing-ness.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;I am calling this adventures in Step-Monstering. At this moment, I feel that the biggest change in my life when we move will be Noah. How to entertain Noah, how to love Noah, how not to kill Noah. (As some of you know, I don't have the most patience ever with children.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;A great example of how this new lens has colored my life...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;I went shopping for a bathing suit this week. I "get" to go to a water park next week. So Heather Lee and I are evaluating various suits: cute suits, fat hiding suits, sexy suits. Which one did I pick?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;The one that I felt would least embarrass my ten year old stepson. I mean, I shouldn't run around with the girls hanging out, I'm a mom of a pre-adolescent for Bob's Sake.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;And thus it begins. It may not be all bad. Afterall, God ordained this situation, He will give me the grace to survive it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;But there's no guarantee what I'll look like on the other side.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SGOrhSBTFBI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/jEtdSOSaHqw/s1600-h/Frazzled.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SGOrhSBTFBI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/jEtdSOSaHqw/s320/Frazzled.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216201381686481938" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1325928985500901404-8813112638388065407?l=tmkraft.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/feeds/8813112638388065407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1325928985500901404&amp;postID=8813112638388065407' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/8813112638388065407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1325928985500901404/posts/default/8813112638388065407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmkraft.blogspot.com/2008/06/new-beginning-again.html' title='A New Beginning ... Again'/><author><name>Take Me Back to VA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477730190647659713</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2RC-lImZU8U/SGOrhSBTFBI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/jEtdSOSaHqw/s72-c/Frazzled.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
