<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;DkQNQ3ozcCp7ImA9WxNbEE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6061217</id><updated>2009-11-12T07:59:52.488-06:00</updated><title>Better Full than Empty</title><subtitle type="html">The ramblings of a mama who has been told too many times that she has her hands full.</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Brenda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>334</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><link rel="self" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/BetterFullThanEmpty" type="application/atom+xml" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUYCQng5eip7ImA9WxNUGE0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6061217.post-9082061725546862623</id><published>2009-11-09T15:45:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-09T15:46:03.622-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-09T15:46:03.622-06:00</app:edited><title /><summary type="html">Yesterday morning, Vincent came bouncing in searching for his baseball mitt and a ball, only to come back inside a few minutes later moping along about as low as possible. His friend changed his mind about playing catch, and Vincent was very sad. He went out to the backyard, where Luis was cleaning out his car.A few minutes later, I glanced out the back window, and I saw Vincent glowing again. &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~4/GOQxjJ7kBnc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/feeds/9082061725546862623/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6061217&amp;postID=9082061725546862623&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/9082061725546862623?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/9082061725546862623?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~3/GOQxjJ7kBnc/yesterday-morning-vincent-came-bouncing.html" title="" /><author><name>Brenda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14170646285639357803" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/2009/11/yesterday-morning-vincent-came-bouncing.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CE4HR38yeyp7ImA9WxNUEk0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6061217.post-2935987213945329734</id><published>2009-11-02T16:57:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-02T17:02:16.193-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-02T17:02:16.193-06:00</app:edited><title /><summary type="html">I am a little freaked out right now.  I was reading some news articles online with Simon on my lap, when he pointed to a photo of a woman on the screen and said "She die.  Mama, no die, no die."  The woman in the photo was killed Saturday evening when she was hit by a train.  I asked him if the woman died, and he replied "She die, she die. That scary."Creepy strange.&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~4/VT1qcaNcPWM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/feeds/2935987213945329734/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6061217&amp;postID=2935987213945329734&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/2935987213945329734?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/2935987213945329734?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~3/VT1qcaNcPWM/i-am-little-freaked-out-right-now.html" title="" /><author><name>Brenda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14170646285639357803" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-am-little-freaked-out-right-now.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0UDQXk9eSp7ImA9WxNUEU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6061217.post-951374948119942780</id><published>2009-11-01T21:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-01T21:07:50.761-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-01T21:07:50.761-06:00</app:edited><title /><summary type="html">Last year I was lamenting the fact that our holiday meals are sometimes so steeped in tradition that I am afraid to mess with the menus too much lest I get a lot of flack from our families.  I played around with a couple side dishes at last year's Thanksgiving menu.  Imagine my surprise when, a couple of days ago, my mother asked if I was going to make one of those experiments again this year, a &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~4/2AbrGmZpEk4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/feeds/951374948119942780/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6061217&amp;postID=951374948119942780&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/951374948119942780?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/951374948119942780?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~3/2AbrGmZpEk4/last-year-i-was-lamenting-fact-that-our.html" title="" /><author><name>Brenda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14170646285639357803" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/2009/11/last-year-i-was-lamenting-fact-that-our.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DU8NQX0_cCp7ImA9WxNVF0g.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6061217.post-5275378278831433058</id><published>2009-10-28T14:22:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-28T14:24:50.348-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-28T14:24:50.348-05:00</app:edited><title /><summary type="html">So the kids were outside today, and Vincent was being a bit grumpy.  Abigail decided to send him into the house because of his behaviour.  He did not want to go.  She walked him back to the door, when all of a sudden he ran ahead.  The little stinker got to the door before her, opened it up, flipped the lock and closed the door again.  He locked them all outside so that he would not be able to be&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~4/ZMPUDDemHvM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/feeds/5275378278831433058/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6061217&amp;postID=5275378278831433058&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/5275378278831433058?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/5275378278831433058?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~3/ZMPUDDemHvM/so-kids-were-outside-today-and-vincent.html" title="" /><author><name>Brenda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14170646285639357803" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/2009/10/so-kids-were-outside-today-and-vincent.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0UER30zfyp7ImA9WxNXE0k.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6061217.post-8351688807616696077</id><published>2009-09-30T15:57:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-30T16:13:26.387-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-09-30T16:13:26.387-05:00</app:edited><title /><summary type="html">I sit here holding a sleeping Simon in my arms.  He has been napping for about an hour now, snuggled up here. There are a million things I need to do.  My computer work is long finished.  Yet here I sit because I know that this is my last baby to snuggle as he sleeps.  Too soon he will be too big for this. &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~4/yfacpkUruwo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/feeds/8351688807616696077/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6061217&amp;postID=8351688807616696077&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/8351688807616696077?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/8351688807616696077?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~3/yfacpkUruwo/i-sit-here-holding-sleeping-simon-in-my.html" title="" /><author><name>Brenda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14170646285639357803" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J9aQQpPBDd0/SsPJ2uztT8I/AAAAAAAACPI/Np45Z_UC4ao/s72-c/sleeping.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-sit-here-holding-sleeping-simon-in-my.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0cARnY_eCp7ImA9WxNSGEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6061217.post-8225031363429169839</id><published>2009-09-01T21:06:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-01T21:37:27.840-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-09-01T21:37:27.840-05:00</app:edited><title /><summary type="html">Sometimes it is the simplest things that make people feel special. I know how important time is.  This year, Luis finally gave me a Mother's Day that was special.  We did nothing more than walk around in downtown Madison, get lattes at the Union, sit on library mall and listen to the drumming circle.  What made it special was it was spending time doing what I wanted.Abigail loves when her one &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~4/0ZS7aTOEygo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/feeds/8225031363429169839/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6061217&amp;postID=8225031363429169839&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/8225031363429169839?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/8225031363429169839?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~3/0ZS7aTOEygo/sometimes-it-is-simplest-things-that.html" title="" /><author><name>Brenda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14170646285639357803" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/2009/09/sometimes-it-is-simplest-things-that.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUcNRXszfip7ImA9WxNSFE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6061217.post-2007544248624961717</id><published>2009-08-27T23:06:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-27T23:18:14.586-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-08-27T23:18:14.586-05:00</app:edited><title /><summary type="html">I ducked into Cafe Claudeen today on a whim to pick up a biscotti, part of my 3/50 pledge.  Once there, I ended up talking with Claudia and Kareesa for almost an hour.  This is not the first time I have done that, and I sincerely hope it is not the last.  One of my favorite parts about patronizing the local independent businesses is the lovely people it brings into my life.  After talking with &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~4/VFe5Nm0cs0M" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/feeds/2007544248624961717/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6061217&amp;postID=2007544248624961717&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/2007544248624961717?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/2007544248624961717?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~3/VFe5Nm0cs0M/i-ducked-into-cafe-claudeen-today-on.html" title="" /><author><name>Brenda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14170646285639357803" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-ducked-into-cafe-claudeen-today-on.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUQDSHY6eCp7ImA9WxNSE0k.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6061217.post-6343718864873594849</id><published>2009-08-26T22:16:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T22:22:59.810-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-08-26T22:22:59.810-05:00</app:edited><title /><summary type="html">I have a nugget of a dream forming deep inside of me.  Oh who am I kidding, I've had the dream for a while, but it has laid dormant deep inside there.  A crack of sunshine has hit it and a little water has sprinkled on it until now the shoots contemplate breaking the surface. Friends compliment my baked goods and breads all the time.  Are they good enough?  Could I sell them?Never have I had a &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~4/tskIhoBYXjw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/feeds/6343718864873594849/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6061217&amp;postID=6343718864873594849&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/6343718864873594849?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/6343718864873594849?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~3/tskIhoBYXjw/i-have-nugget-of-dream-forming-deep.html" title="" /><author><name>Brenda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14170646285639357803" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-have-nugget-of-dream-forming-deep.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkAFSXc_cCp7ImA9WxNSEks.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6061217.post-914799153250755108</id><published>2009-08-26T00:22:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T00:31:58.948-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-08-26T00:31:58.948-05:00</app:edited><title /><summary type="html">I'm up far too late this evening, listening to the sounds of my family sleeping as the rain gently falls outside. I have not been writing here lately.  I could blame the fact that my work blog takes up much of my writing inspiration or that status updates on facebook steal the fodder for these posts, but neither is true.I have composed many a post in my head over the weeks of this summer, but not&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~4/r4AL-U0PwAM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/feeds/914799153250755108/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6061217&amp;postID=914799153250755108&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/914799153250755108?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/914799153250755108?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~3/r4AL-U0PwAM/im-up-far-too-late-this-evening.html" title="" /><author><name>Brenda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14170646285639357803" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/2009/08/im-up-far-too-late-this-evening.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkQGSH44fCp7ImA9WxJaE0g.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6061217.post-7298269342004411917</id><published>2009-08-03T22:44:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-03T22:58:49.034-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-08-03T22:58:49.034-05:00</app:edited><title /><summary type="html">Have you ever seen the movie One Hundred One Dalmatians?  One my favorite characters has always been Rolly.  He is little puppy who is perpetually hungry, saying in a charming little English accent things like "I'm hungry, Mother" "I'm not sleepy. I'm hungry", and "But I am.  I'm so hungry I could eat a whole elephant."Ever since Isabella's toddler years, when she opens the snack cupboard shortly&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~4/potHkR9E_Ok" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/feeds/7298269342004411917/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6061217&amp;postID=7298269342004411917&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/7298269342004411917?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/7298269342004411917?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~3/potHkR9E_Ok/have-you-ever-seen-movie-one-hundred.html" title="" /><author><name>Brenda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14170646285639357803" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/2009/08/have-you-ever-seen-movie-one-hundred.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkQAR3gzfyp7ImA9WxJUFUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6061217.post-4677609964800512993</id><published>2009-07-14T09:52:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-14T11:52:26.687-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-07-14T11:52:26.687-05:00</app:edited><title /><summary type="html">So, I was listening to a program talking about health care in the US.  It was being compared and contrasted to the Canadian system.  Some facts were touted - the Canadians have a longer life expectancy, lower infant mortality rate, spend less than half of what we do, they are facing an expected doctor shortage, the long waits for elective or specialist care.  The terrible keyword "medical &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~4/37U9yNZjOHE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/feeds/4677609964800512993/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6061217&amp;postID=4677609964800512993&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/4677609964800512993?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/4677609964800512993?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~3/37U9yNZjOHE/so-i-was-listening-to-program-talking.html" title="" /><author><name>Brenda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14170646285639357803" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/2009/07/so-i-was-listening-to-program-talking.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUAARng5fyp7ImA9WxJUEEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6061217.post-3392161080418104963</id><published>2009-07-08T10:32:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-08T10:42:27.627-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-07-08T10:42:27.627-05:00</app:edited><title>Photo Day!</title><summary type="html">Look at Isabella swimming!  We went to Lake Le-Aqua-Na and my darling princess had no fears at all of swimming around.  Proud mama.Vincent was all about helping make homemade ice cream at the Reunion.  He enjoyed every bite.Abigail caught a stray kitten and managed to hold it for a little while.  She was so proud of herself.  The kids worked together for quite a while to catch the kitten, but &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~4/fuvLvePFFxI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/feeds/3392161080418104963/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6061217&amp;postID=3392161080418104963&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/3392161080418104963?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/3392161080418104963?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~3/fuvLvePFFxI/photo-day.html" title="Photo Day!" /><author><name>Brenda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14170646285639357803" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J9aQQpPBDd0/SlS9Mjn76zI/AAAAAAAACM4/8-VG911Z_KY/s72-c/DSC08348.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/2009/07/photo-day.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkEBQns4fyp7ImA9WxJVFUU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6061217.post-96360382210151388</id><published>2009-07-02T16:19:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-02T19:24:13.537-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-07-02T19:24:13.537-05:00</app:edited><title>Storypeople</title><summary type="html">Found this gem on Storypeople today.  Somehow it summed up what I have been feeling lately:I finally got to exactly where I wanted to be, she said, so why won't all these growth experiences go away &amp; leave me alone? &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~4/R93EOimEErI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/feeds/96360382210151388/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6061217&amp;postID=96360382210151388&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/96360382210151388?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/96360382210151388?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~3/R93EOimEErI/found-this-gem-on-storypeople-today.html" title="Storypeople" /><author><name>Brenda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14170646285639357803" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/2009/07/found-this-gem-on-storypeople-today.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A08CSH0-fip7ImA9WxJVEE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6061217.post-5395288246540424685</id><published>2009-06-26T10:01:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-26T10:24:29.356-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-06-26T10:24:29.356-05:00</app:edited><title>Randomness</title><summary type="html">I haven't done a random post in while.~ Does it make me a freak that I am completely unaffected by the deaths of Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson?  Death is part of life, and I didn't know them personally.  Famous people dying and being mourned by so many who never truly knew them feels odd to me.  Maybe I am too icy on somethings.~ Would you use a $1 off coupon at your farmers market?  There &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~4/CweRbILedV4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/feeds/5395288246540424685/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6061217&amp;postID=5395288246540424685&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/5395288246540424685?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/5395288246540424685?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~3/CweRbILedV4/randomness.html" title="Randomness" /><author><name>Brenda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14170646285639357803" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/2009/06/randomness.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEQGQXs9cSp7ImA9WxJWEEo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6061217.post-4087785812572328202</id><published>2009-06-15T08:23:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-15T08:25:20.569-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-06-15T08:25:20.569-05:00</app:edited><title>Why?</title><summary type="html">I am sitting outside listening to the birds and enjoying the cool morning air.  I am watching a man spray poison on the weeds in the beds around his house.  Instead of taking an hour to weed (there are not that many weeds, and it really would be less than an hour's work), he is spending ten minutes poisoning the plants, poisoning our earth, poisoning our water supply.That feels so very wrong to &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~4/8HF6ylNhaAo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/feeds/4087785812572328202/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6061217&amp;postID=4087785812572328202&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/4087785812572328202?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/4087785812572328202?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~3/8HF6ylNhaAo/why.html" title="Why?" /><author><name>Brenda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14170646285639357803" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/2009/06/why.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DU4NRHs4eip7ImA9WxJXFkU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6061217.post-4791499880931011964</id><published>2009-06-10T21:36:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-10T21:39:55.532-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-06-10T21:39:55.532-05:00</app:edited><title>A reason to love farmers markets</title><summary type="html">Conversation at the market a week ago Saturday:Me:  Do you have any rosemary?Plant Lady:  No, my husband did not pack any herbs today.Conversation this Saturday:Me:  (walking up to the plant lady's stall)Plant Lady:  Oh, I have that rosemary for you this week!  I told my husband he had to pack herbs this time.It is the little extra attention to service that make buying direct from independent &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~4/Nykp4qsD-RM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/feeds/4791499880931011964/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6061217&amp;postID=4791499880931011964&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/4791499880931011964?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/4791499880931011964?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~3/Nykp4qsD-RM/reason-to-love-farmers-markets.html" title="A reason to love farmers markets" /><author><name>Brenda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14170646285639357803" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/2009/06/reason-to-love-farmers-markets.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkEASXY5eCp7ImA9WxJXEk0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6061217.post-5202409140746000181</id><published>2009-06-05T07:04:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-05T07:24:08.820-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-06-05T07:24:08.820-05:00</app:edited><title>Photo Day!</title><summary type="html">Time for some more photos...The kids had a lot of fun playing on Bascom Hill when we were there a few weeks ago.Vincent being goofy at the top on Bascom Hill.We went to the Brodhead Airport for breakfast with Peter and Mary on a breezy morning.The kids have been having a great time in the garden.  Notice my little baldie.  He wanted a short haircut for summer.Simon enjoyed harvesting radishes &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~4/wDwTAfHUegs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/feeds/5202409140746000181/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6061217&amp;postID=5202409140746000181&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/5202409140746000181?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/5202409140746000181?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~3/wDwTAfHUegs/photo-day.html" title="Photo Day!" /><author><name>Brenda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14170646285639357803" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J9aQQpPBDd0/SikNWtyAa9I/AAAAAAAAB6c/eyIiAaLIk64/s72-c/DSC07555.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/2009/06/photo-day.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkQMSHk9cSp7ImA9WxJQFkw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6061217.post-3885053638246510563</id><published>2009-05-29T10:39:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-29T11:26:29.769-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-05-29T11:26:29.769-05:00</app:edited><title>Heinz, Log Cabin, Stay-Puft, Grey Poupon...or my own?</title><summary type="html">I have come to the conclusion that there was a food conspiracy that took place over the last half century.Power was taken away from the people of the US and given to the processed food industries.  It was a slow process, and it was probably not planned out long term, at least in the beginning.  I'm guessing it started with convenience, but the long term event was a considerable loss of our &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~4/RFjzPEbTUek" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/feeds/3885053638246510563/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6061217&amp;postID=3885053638246510563&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/3885053638246510563?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/3885053638246510563?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~3/RFjzPEbTUek/heinz-log-cabin-stay-puft-grey-pouponor.html" title="Heinz, Log Cabin, Stay-Puft, Grey Poupon...or my own?" /><author><name>Brenda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14170646285639357803" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/2009/05/heinz-log-cabin-stay-puft-grey-pouponor.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ck4EQn45fCp7ImA9WxJSGEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6061217.post-1581864140051993091</id><published>2009-05-09T09:41:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-09T09:55:03.024-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-05-09T09:55:03.024-05:00</app:edited><title>Time + Kids = Creativity</title><summary type="html">Question #1What do you get when you mix one pile of scrap wood, one determined kid who is mechanically inclined and lots of free time?Vincent's fortThis has been his project of the week, built with his own tools.  He took out the screws that were already in the wood so that it would be safe for everyone, then reused the screws to hold everything together.  He hung the tire on there as a &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~4/ZxTKTxEqIfs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/feeds/1581864140051993091/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6061217&amp;postID=1581864140051993091&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/1581864140051993091?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/1581864140051993091?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~3/ZxTKTxEqIfs/time-kids-creativity.html" title="Time + Kids = Creativity" /><author><name>Brenda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14170646285639357803" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J9aQQpPBDd0/SgWXFqn_X2I/AAAAAAAABy8/omvlIB65pDo/s72-c/DSC07466.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/2009/05/time-kids-creativity.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DE4BRn89fSp7ImA9WxJSFEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6061217.post-2517687317243942762</id><published>2009-05-04T09:19:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-04T09:22:37.165-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-05-04T09:22:37.165-05:00</app:edited><title>Happy days!</title><summary type="html">Breaking News:Isabella is reading for pleasure!  Daily!I have actually had to tell her to put the book down in order to do something.Given her struggles and the fact that she is so into visual images like Luis, I was not sure that this day would ever come.  This is so cool.&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~4/c0OCGO7-HRQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/feeds/2517687317243942762/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6061217&amp;postID=2517687317243942762&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/2517687317243942762?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/2517687317243942762?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~3/c0OCGO7-HRQ/breaking-news-isabella-is-reading-for.html" title="Happy days!" /><author><name>Brenda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14170646285639357803" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/2009/05/breaking-news-isabella-is-reading-for.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0IEQXw-cSp7ImA9WxJTEUU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6061217.post-3456255252361532927</id><published>2009-04-19T16:51:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-19T17:51:40.259-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-04-19T17:51:40.259-05:00</app:edited><title>Drip drop</title><summary type="html">Each season has its own type of rain.The rain of summer has fat drops they plop down, cooling as they fall. The rain of fall slices down from the sky, stripping the trees of their leaves, taking the oranges and crimson away, leaving us with brown and getting us ready for the stark look of winter.Today we have a spring rain, steadily drenching.  Suddenly, everything is brighter than it was a week &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~4/7PTGuPDfVI8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/feeds/3456255252361532927/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6061217&amp;postID=3456255252361532927&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/3456255252361532927?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/3456255252361532927?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~3/7PTGuPDfVI8/drip-drop.html" title="Drip drop" /><author><name>Brenda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14170646285639357803" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/2009/04/drip-drop.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkEHR3c_fSp7ImA9WxVaFko.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6061217.post-8967263494405181901</id><published>2009-04-13T21:41:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-13T22:10:36.945-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-04-13T22:10:36.945-05:00</app:edited><title>Food and Safety</title><summary type="html">So, obviously I am big fan of eating local.  No surprise to anyone reading this on a regular basis.  With all of the food safety scares in recent years and months, I suspect that more and more people will be seeing the importance of local food, buying direct.  Those big national food conglomerates buy foodstuffs from hundreds of sources.  They mix foods of various origin (including international &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~4/1yRheTA5yzw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/feeds/8967263494405181901/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6061217&amp;postID=8967263494405181901&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/8967263494405181901?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/8967263494405181901?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~3/1yRheTA5yzw/food-and-safety.html" title="Food and Safety" /><author><name>Brenda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14170646285639357803" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/2009/04/food-and-safety.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0AFRXc6fCp7ImA9WxVaFEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6061217.post-388343069684159335</id><published>2009-04-11T09:36:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-11T09:55:14.914-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-04-11T09:55:14.914-05:00</app:edited><title>Open Letter to my Children</title><summary type="html">Dear Children of Mine:Please for the love of everything that is holy, stop fighting, bickering, tattle telling, grumbling and picking on each other.  Forever would be nice, but hey, I'd take one day of peace.  That is all.Love,your Mama, who is on her last nerve&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~4/aXJz-KcwQXE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/feeds/388343069684159335/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6061217&amp;postID=388343069684159335&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/388343069684159335?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/388343069684159335?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~3/aXJz-KcwQXE/open-letter-to-my-children.html" title="Open Letter to my Children" /><author><name>Brenda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14170646285639357803" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/2009/04/open-letter-to-my-children.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0cMQ30zeyp7ImA9WxVbGUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6061217.post-4086908393961128861</id><published>2009-04-04T20:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-05T11:31:22.383-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-04-05T11:31:22.383-05:00</app:edited><title>Run along now</title><summary type="html">I was not thrilled to wake up this morning to another layer of white covering the ground.  Most of it has already melted off, but still, the mere fact that it was here means spring is still being held at bay by winter.I am so ready for little sprouts poking through the earth.  I am ready to play in the gardens, plant veggies for the year, harvest some rhubarb.  I want asparagus, spinach and &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~4/LH3XptzM0d4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/feeds/4086908393961128861/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6061217&amp;postID=4086908393961128861&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/4086908393961128861?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/4086908393961128861?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~3/LH3XptzM0d4/run-along-now.html" title="Run along now" /><author><name>Brenda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14170646285639357803" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/2009/04/run-along-now.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0QEQn04fyp7ImA9WxVbEkQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6061217.post-2765962951348588210</id><published>2009-03-28T23:00:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-28T23:01:43.337-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-03-28T23:01:43.337-05:00</app:edited><title>It doesn't matter</title><summary type="html">I read this tonight on Story People, and it touched me.I had a dream &amp; I heard music &amp; there were children standing around, but no one was dancing. I asked a little girl, why not? &amp; she said they didn't know how, or maybe they used to but they forgot &amp; so I started to hop up &amp; down &amp; the children asked me, Is that dancing? &amp; I laughed &amp; said, no, that's hopping, but at least it's a start &amp; soon &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~4/0bBrVhbP8yU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/feeds/2765962951348588210/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6061217&amp;postID=2765962951348588210&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/2765962951348588210?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6061217/posts/default/2765962951348588210?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/BetterFullThanEmpty/~3/0bBrVhbP8yU/it-doesnt-matter.html" title="It doesn't matter" /><author><name>Brenda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14170646285639357803" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://pbkbrenda.blogspot.com/2009/03/it-doesnt-matter.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>
