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<?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:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;A0cDRXc6eyp7ImA9WhRRFE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499031018121427524</id><updated>2011-11-27T18:11:14.913-06:00</updated><category term="sin" /><category term="facebook" /><category term="gossip" /><category term="babies" /><category term="bible" /><category term="dogs" /><category term="introversion" /><category term="bebe" /><category term="christmas" /><category term="games" /><category term="cats" /><category term="forgiveness" /><category term="faith" /><category term="beliefs" /><category term="easter" /><category term="jamie" /><category term="anxiety" /><category term="road rage" /><category term="dreams" /><category term="moose" /><category term="polls" /><category term="charity" /><category term="ocd" /><category term="twitter" /><category term="family" /><category term="gato" /><category term="pets" /><category term="anger" /><category term="self-esteem" /><category term="stupid drivers" /><category term="voices" /><category term="myspace" /><category term="science" /><title>Chelle's Issues</title><subtitle type="html">Most people have some kind of neurosis, whether they would like to admit it or not.  I'm one of the few who will openly admit that I have "issues".  It's what makes me ME.  So, here's a blog devoted to issues... mostly mine, but once in a while I might talk about someone else's or maybe even yours.  If you have problems with paranoia, this probably isn't the best place for you to be.</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04245274450975207704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9BiVvV5QOs/S65DASLYmEI/AAAAAAAAACM/dtyoD9IUQZ0/S220/chelle+profile.jpg" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>26</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/ChellesIssues" /><feedburner:info xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" uri="chellesissues" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><feedburner:emailServiceId xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0">ChellesIssues</feedburner:emailServiceId><feedburner:feedburnerHostname xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0">http://feedburner.google.com</feedburner:feedburnerHostname><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0UNQX0-cCp7ImA9WxBaF0w.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499031018121427524.post-2354080524905003259</id><published>2010-03-27T11:48:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-27T12:34:50.358-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-03-27T12:34:50.358-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="facebook" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="family" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="anxiety" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="twitter" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="faith" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="myspace" /><title>The Difference a Year Makes</title><content type="html">Wow... I haven't written anything in over a year!  It's really not because I haven't had time.  Honestly, if I have time to hang out on facebook, I should have time to sit a write a little old blog, right?  No excuses... I'm just freakin lazy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking back at my last few entries, I was a bit of a mess last year.  I'll be honest.  I'll probably always have "issues" but that's just who I am.  I can say with confidence, though, that I am doing so much better than I was then.  I'm still taking meds and don't see going off of them anytime soon.  But truly, I am feeling really well.  I am thinking more positively, I stay more calm, I am getting out more and actually enjoying it.  That's not to say I don't have stress or anxiety in my life.  I have LOTS of that.  But I'm handling it much better than I have in the past. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, in the last year, I have almost completely dropped myspace and twitter.  I even had someone direct message me on twitter and ask me why I bothered to have an account.  If you MUST know... it's because the novelty wore off and I don't feel like I have a lot to contribute.  I do still love the friends I made there and I hope to keep in touch with them, if not on twitter, then on facebook.  As for myspace...  sorry.  I just flat don't like it. Blah!  I am a facebook junkie!  Being here at home babysitting all the time, it's my social outlet.  I love the games but I love even more that I can connect with so many people.  I've connected with former co-workers from my WalMart days, extended family I hardly ever see and with former classmates that I haven't seen in YEARS.  It's a blast!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I talk about EVERYTHING that has happened in the last year, this entry will get too long.  So, let me just close it by saying "Thank you"  to all of my friends and family who stuck by me through my "transformation" this year.  One of my biggest thanks is to my sweet husband.  We've had a crazy, emotional ride and we're closer than ever because of it.  I love you, my sweet man... more than you know!  And the biggest thanks of all to God.  He made me who I am... craziness and all... and showed me that's it's okay to be ME.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2499031018121427524-2354080524905003259?l=chellesissues.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ChellesIssues/~4/d7iPFoSccWc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/feeds/2354080524905003259/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2499031018121427524&amp;postID=2354080524905003259" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/2354080524905003259?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/2354080524905003259?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/2010/03/difference-year-makes.html" title="The Difference a Year Makes" /><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04245274450975207704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9BiVvV5QOs/S65DASLYmEI/AAAAAAAAACM/dtyoD9IUQZ0/S220/chelle+profile.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEIHQHsyfip7ImA9WxVRFkk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499031018121427524.post-8801723834570630712</id><published>2009-01-22T10:51:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T11:48:51.596-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-01-22T11:48:51.596-06:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="bible" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="beliefs" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="anxiety" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="faith" /><title>Receiving Healing</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Well folks, this is the blog I've put off writing for a while.  I know this will be long, but please stick with it until the end.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Many of you know about the health issues I've had for the last year and a half.  But, only a very few of you know that I actually did get a diagnosis a couple of months ago.  I was content to let everyone think that the cause of my near fainting spells was anemia and hormonal shifts caused by ovarian cysts.  I did not lie about those things.  I really do have those issues BUT my doctor has assured me that they were not severe enough to cause the blackouts and near fainting I've been experiencing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Before I dive into the diagnosis, I do want to back-track and say that through this entire journey of ER visits, doctor visits, tests, tests, and more tests... I have felt so down and discouraged.  Some days I thought I would end up dying of some mysterious disease before we could figure out what it was.  I've never felt so hopeless in my life.  This sickness has had such debilitating effects.  I don't leave my house unless I have to and if I have to leave, I try not to be the one that has to drive.  I have been so scared of fainting in public or while driving, I just tried not to be in a situation that might lead to that happening.  I even stepped back from the children's ministry a bit for fear of fainting in front of the kids.  But, as hopeless as I have felt, I have had a great amount of support and encouragement from my family and close friends.  Those of you who have stood by me and put up with my negativity.... Thank you and I love you!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Now for the diagnosis.  It's actually a combination of things.  Panic disorder, severe chronic depression, and a sleep disorder.  I've known about the sleep disorder for several years.  I just didn't realize that it could/would contribute to the other things.  My doctor actually originally diagnosed me with a form of bipolar disorder called unipolar depression.  I saw an actual psychiatrist this week who assures me that he does not feel that is the case.  He is the one who diagnosed the panic, depression, &amp;amp; sleep disorder.  I have been taking depakote to level out my moods for about 6 weeks and prozac for the last 2 weeks.  In that time, I have noticed that the near fainting and constant dizziness has become drastically less.  That is why I believe that we have finally reached the right diagnosis.  I am getting better.  Since the psychiatrist doesn't feel that I have bipolar disorder, he took me off of the depakote and switched me to neurontin.  I'm on day 2 of that, but the last couple of nights I have slept pretty good and I feel better throughout the day.  I will be seeing the psychiatrist on a monthly basis for a while and am seeing the counselor at our church in between those times... so I'll be talking to someone every 2 weeks for a while.  There are many things going on in my head that need straightened out.  The medicine won't get rid of that... it is only a tool to help jump start the process.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Now, I have to share with you an experience I had yesterday.  Through all of this, not only has my morale fell flat.. but so has my spiritual life.  I might pray, but mostly that was just whining to God about my circumstances.  I wasn't reading the Bible at all, except to study whatever I had to teach the kids that week.  I just haven't had the energy or focus or discipline to do whatever I needed to do to be closer to God.  And then yesterday, I decided it was time to devote time to God again, so I got on to &lt;a href="http://www.youversion.com/"&gt;www.youversion.com&lt;/a&gt;, and started reading the passages for the day (the read-the-bible-in-a-year selection).  One of those was &lt;a href="http://www.youversion.com/reader.php?startverse=Ps.38.1"&gt;Psalm 38&lt;/a&gt;.  Read it.  Almost every sentence of that psalm is exactly how I have been feeling.  Complete despair and feeling like I was being punished for everything I've ever done wrong.  I cried.  Hard.  And then I went to the prayer journal and wrote to God.  I won't share everything I said, but I will tell you that one sentence was "I need You to heal my heart and my soul." And the second those words were typed, I heard these little chimes I have hung in the living room go "Ding ding ding" very softly.  They never do that... ever!  I knew in that moment that God was right here with me, protecting me.  I'm going to be okay.  I still have a long road ahead, but I do know that with His help, I'm going to be okay.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2499031018121427524-8801723834570630712?l=chellesissues.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ChellesIssues/~4/IKD1Gu-yBLs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/feeds/8801723834570630712/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2499031018121427524&amp;postID=8801723834570630712" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/8801723834570630712?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/8801723834570630712?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/2009/01/receiving-healing.html" title="Receiving Healing" /><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04245274450975207704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9BiVvV5QOs/S65DASLYmEI/AAAAAAAAACM/dtyoD9IUQZ0/S220/chelle+profile.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0YCRn8zfSp7ImA9WxRaEEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499031018121427524.post-4662218536710970481</id><published>2008-12-12T10:03:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T10:26:07.185-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-12-12T10:26:07.185-06:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="games" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="bible" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="beliefs" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="family" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="christmas" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="faith" /><title>Love Christmas, Hate December</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Let me just start out by saying I love Christmas.  I do.  But I hate December with a passion!  Honestly, I do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Why can't we just enjoy Christmas without having to spend extra money buying gifts and food?  The Brown's are on a tight budget... the bills don't stop in December so we can celebrate Christmas...  and yet, here we are, spending money we don't have on gifts and food for the multiple parties/gatherings we have to attend.  And &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;YES&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, we have to attend all of them!  I know we're not the only ones who feel this stress.  You feel the crunch too, don't you?  Be honest.  So why do we let ourselves get sucked in to doing things we know we can't really afford?  Why can't we just get together, sing a few Christmas carols, read about the birth of Jesus, and just hang out and play some games?  Sure, we might need a snack and a drink for that too, but do we really have to go over the top with it?  Do we???  I know I don't need the rum balls, cookies, cakes, candies, &amp;amp; cheese balls.  Just get me a glass of water and a snack mix and I'm good to go.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Do I sound like a scrooge? I don't mean to.  Honestly, I &lt;strong&gt;LOVE LOVE &lt;em&gt;LOVE&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Christmas!  I love everything about it... except the unnecessary spending.  We don't need all that to celebrate the birth of our Savior.... that's all I'm saying.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2499031018121427524-4662218536710970481?l=chellesissues.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ChellesIssues/~4/4AuegEigVrU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/feeds/4662218536710970481/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2499031018121427524&amp;postID=4662218536710970481" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/4662218536710970481?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/4662218536710970481?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/2008/12/love-christmas-hate-december.html" title="Love Christmas, Hate December" /><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04245274450975207704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9BiVvV5QOs/S65DASLYmEI/AAAAAAAAACM/dtyoD9IUQZ0/S220/chelle+profile.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkUFSHk8fip7ImA9WxRXEUU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499031018121427524.post-3007894175054067154</id><published>2008-10-16T14:43:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-16T15:16:59.776-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-10-16T15:16:59.776-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dreams" /><title>Sleep Issues</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I'm done eating burritos at 10:30 at night.  I had the strangest dream.  I'm not sure whether it was caused by the late night burritos (we were busy, so supper was really late last night) or the fact that I leave my radio on low at night, but something sure caused my imagination to go crazy!  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;In this dream, the song "I Think I Love You" by David Cassidy was playing in the background the whole time.  This is why I think my radio may have had a role in starting the dream.  I listen to a light mix station at night and I've heard that song on there before, so it's possible the song came on and my subconscious mind could hear it.  Anyway, I dreamt that I was on a TV talk show... not really ON it, but in the audience.  Shirley Jones and "young" Susan Dey (from the Partridge Family, in case you aren't old enough to know who the heck I'm talking about) were on it.  They were talking about doing some kind of show together.  All of a sudden, the host (John Davidson... if you're too young to know who that is, google him.  I don't have the energy to bring you up to speed) jumps up and says to them, "You'll never guess who we found!"  Out from the audience comes Danny Bonaduce and David Cassidy.  They run up on stage and hug Shirley Jones and "young" Susan Dey.  Then John Davidson says, "And guess who else we caught up with..."  And the camera pans back to the table that Shirley and "young" Susan Dey are sitting at and next to her is "present day (old)" Susan Dey.  And she had 70's Farrah Fawcett hair.  Bizarre huh?  I was confused as to how she could be there at the same time as "young" Susan Dey, since they are the same person after all!  I think it was too much for my mind to handle... was she a clone or some kind of space alien?  I was confused.  I guess that's why I woke up at that point.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Now you're probably thinking, "That's 2 minutes of my life I'll never get back."  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;You're right. Sorry.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2499031018121427524-3007894175054067154?l=chellesissues.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ChellesIssues/~4/9cBXT9r1oN4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/feeds/3007894175054067154/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2499031018121427524&amp;postID=3007894175054067154" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/3007894175054067154?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/3007894175054067154?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/2008/10/sleep-issues.html" title="Sleep Issues" /><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04245274450975207704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9BiVvV5QOs/S65DASLYmEI/AAAAAAAAACM/dtyoD9IUQZ0/S220/chelle+profile.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0MFRX4_eCp7ImA9WxRRGEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499031018121427524.post-7660452653844033204</id><published>2008-09-19T16:03:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-01T16:10:14.040-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-10-01T16:10:14.040-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="bible" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="beliefs" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="family" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="anxiety" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="twitter" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="faith" /><title>Fear (updated)</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Deuteronomy 31:6&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the LORD your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;We taught the kids at church this verse a few weeks ago. It's been stuck in my head ever since. I am the exact opposite of that verse. I am weak, timid, and always afraid of something. It was really hard for me to try to teach/discuss this verse with the kids, knowing I wasn't living it. How can I tell a bunch of kids to do something I myself don't do? I felt like a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;hypocrite&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;Anyway, fast forward a few weeks and I'm still thinking about that verse. Obviously, it's an area of my life that needs work, otherwise it wouldn't still be ringing in my head.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;I have tons of phobias. &lt;em&gt;Tons of them&lt;/em&gt;. Some are the normal ones like snakes and spiders and unclean public restrooms. I kind of consider those to be "healthy" fears. But, I also have unhealthy fears that keep me from fully enjoying life. That's a problem that I'm having a lot of trouble overcoming. One of those is a fear of travel.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;Over the last few months, I've made some awesome friends on &lt;a href="http://www.twitter.com/"&gt;Twitter&lt;/a&gt;. Aside from the couple that are from here, I haven't met any of them face to face and yet they have been some of the best friends a person could ask for. They encourage, they sympathize, they pray, they advise... they are always there for whatever happens, good or bad. I love that. I desperately want to meet them all. There's just one thing holding me back. &lt;em&gt;Me&lt;/em&gt;. A few months ago we were invited to &lt;a href="http://www.catalystconference.com/"&gt;Catalyst&lt;/a&gt;, which is in Georgia and also where some of these folks live. It sounded cool at first but the more we talked about it with our friends, the more anxious I became. It wasn't a reality yet and I was already having panic attacks whenever it was brought up. You see, I have a very strong phobia of travel. I am anxious about riding anywhere in the car and the farther the destination, the worse the anxiety is. I bailed on the entire thing (as usual) and told Mike he could go without me, but he made a good point. If he were to go without me, I would be home the whole time completely in meltdown mode worrying about &lt;em&gt;him&lt;/em&gt; traveling. And as usual, as soon as the decision was made NOT to go, the panic attacks stopped. That's not to say I was feeling good though. I feel horrible that we bailed on everyone. Really horrible. I know in my heart that it wasn't the "right" decision, but I still can't make myself do it... yet. I'm sure at this point we're not going to make it there this year, but my goal is to suck it up and be there next year. For real. I'm telling you, that verse has been in my head so strong that I can't ignore it. It doesn't say you shouldn't be afraid... it says DO NOT be afraid. It's a command and that's why I know that I have to find some way to do it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;Another fear that I have, which has become stronger in the last few months, is of me or someone I love getting cancer. Most of you all know that we recently lost Mike's mom after a 2-3 year battle with lung cancer. It was horrible to watch her slowly waste away in that time. In the end she was down to 65 pounds, bedridden, and didn't have the strength to even speak. It was a death that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. I've worried since then... what if my dad gets it (he's a heavy smoker). I don't want to watch that again. The thought of it terrifies me. &lt;em&gt;TERRIFIES ME.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;And then, in the last year, I've had some health concerns myself. Most of you all know this... the blood pressure spikes, the heart palpitations, the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;migraines&lt;/span&gt;, dizzy spells, etc etc etc. I've been to the ER and to the doctor's office more times than I can count in the last year. Each time, the diagnosis is just a guess and it's always something different. Last Saturday was the latest trip to the ER for me. Only this time we seem to be on to something. The doctor said he felt that the symptoms I was having were due to hormone fluctuations (possibly menopausal) so he referred me to a new doctor. Well, yesterday I went to this new doctor and found that whatever is wrong is more than just hormonal. There is something definitely wrong with my uterus and probably with my ovaries, as well. She said my uterus was severely &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;inflamed&lt;/span&gt; and did a biopsy right then. She also ordered tons of blood work to check my hormone levels and then an ultrasound today to check for fibroid tumors on my uterus and ovaries. No matter what the results turn out to be, she seems to think that I'll definitely be having surgery. Yep. I'm scared. (I will probably update the blog after we get test results and know more about what we're dealing with.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;So, there you go, my life is FULL of fear, terror, and anxiety. And I know that that verse is constantly in my head for a reason. God is telling me to GET OVER IT. Quit being afraid and take it as it comes. Whatever happens, He's going to be right there with me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Update:&lt;/strong&gt; Well, I finally got a call from the doctor's office, nearly 2 weeks since having all the tests done.  Now I feel confused and frustrated.  Everything came back normal... hormones, biopsy, ultrasound... all normal.  That's good news and all, but I'm confused because in the office she seemed positive I would need surgery, no matter what, but on the phone nothing was said about that.  I wasn't thinking clearly at the time, or I would have asked and I probably will call back tomorrow morning to ask about that.  Anyway, since my hormones evidently aren't causing all the other symptoms, she wants me to follow up with a cardiologist and a neurologist to check my heart, blood pressure spikes &amp;amp; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;migraines&lt;/span&gt;.  I feel so frustrated because I thought we were finally on to something and now we're back to square one and don't know anything.  I have an appointment with my regular doctor next week for my 6 month blood pressure check.  I'll find out what his opinion is on all this and proceed from there, I guess. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2499031018121427524-7660452653844033204?l=chellesissues.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ChellesIssues/~4/R-Hfd1rGme0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/feeds/7660452653844033204/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2499031018121427524&amp;postID=7660452653844033204" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/7660452653844033204?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/7660452653844033204?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/2008/09/fear.html" title="Fear (updated)" /><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04245274450975207704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9BiVvV5QOs/S65DASLYmEI/AAAAAAAAACM/dtyoD9IUQZ0/S220/chelle+profile.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUYHR30-cCp7ImA9WxdbGU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499031018121427524.post-2365421019435140768</id><published>2008-08-16T11:04:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-16T11:12:16.358-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-08-16T11:12:16.358-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="games" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="facebook" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="twitter" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="myspace" /><title>Leading A Double Life</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I've been neglecting my email, MySpace and Twitter because I've become addicted to Mob Wars and Crusades on Facebook.  Sad, but true.  I have little time to spend online during the week, so when I'm on, what do I do?  Instead of checking email or going to my other usual haunts, I go directly to Facebook to play those games.  In fact, now that I'm thinking about them, I feel like winding up the blog so I can go check my progress and make sure no one has attacked me and stolen my money.  Fighting the urge...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please hold...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whew!  All is well.  Got attacked by a rival mob, but I was too powerful for them.  That's right... they'll know better next time not to mess with Machine Gun Chelle.  My friend, Jim (aka Leo Capatelli), knows not to mess with me.  He's in my mob, but sometimes I threaten to cut him loose... I can't do anything bad to him as long as he's part of my organization, but once he's out, he'll be a sitting duck and he knows it.  &lt;em&gt;Note to Jim:  Quit hitting yourself.  It doesn't exude intelligence and just makes my organization look shoddy.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so role playing as a mob boss may not be a morally sound thing to do.  That's why I joined the Crusades as a Christian warrior... to balance it all out.  That works, right?  I'm known as Lady Chelle there.  I only attack Pagans, Infidels, and the occasional Saracens.   I never attack other Christians, so if you're playing the game and you are a Christian warrior, you don't have to worry about me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get too comfortable fellow Mobsters and Crusaders.  I may seem like an ordinary housewife and mom on the exterior, but you better watch your back because I'm always there, lurking in the shadows...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright.  Back to reality.  I have buttons to sew on and a pair of jeans to patch...  and of course the never ending laundry and dishes to do.  I better get to it.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2499031018121427524-2365421019435140768?l=chellesissues.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ChellesIssues/~4/mXc6d7A2FWU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/feeds/2365421019435140768/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2499031018121427524&amp;postID=2365421019435140768" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/2365421019435140768?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/2365421019435140768?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/2008/08/leading-double-life.html" title="Leading A Double Life" /><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04245274450975207704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9BiVvV5QOs/S65DASLYmEI/AAAAAAAAACM/dtyoD9IUQZ0/S220/chelle+profile.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0YFQ3oyeip7ImA9WxdWGU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499031018121427524.post-7832837724518799972</id><published>2008-07-12T17:46:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-12T18:25:12.492-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-07-12T18:25:12.492-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="beliefs" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="family" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="faith" /><title>My daughter's blog</title><content type="html">My daughter was gone all week on a trip to Memphis with the Jr High youth group. I was worried about how she would be able to adapt on the trip. First of all, she had to leave her ipod and her cell phone at home. Secondly, she is allergic to work. I really wasn't sure what to expect from her when she got back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She got back late last night and spent 3 hours talking about much she learned. She was on fire. I teared up a lot because normally she won't contribute to conversations about God. But last night she initiated the conversations. I couldn't believe I was talking to the same Hayley. She said after listening to the speaker that week, she finally understood how selfish and materialistic she was. The sermons, the music, the people they helped... all of it together changed her. I pray that this is a change that will last. We'll see the next time she asks for something and I tell her we're too broke to buy it for her. ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Here is the blog she wrote about her week. It's also posted on her facebook and on her myspace. If you are friends with her on either of those forums, be sure and leave her a comment. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I went to Know Sweat in Memphis TN this week. It was definitely a changing experience for me, it took us eight hours to get there but we finally got there. When we got to where we were staying I thought that we were gonna be stayin nice dorms but when we got in there I thought what a dump! It was pretty gross in there we didn’t even want to walk in there without shoes on, that’s how gross it was. But after awhile we just got used to it and loosened up about it but it didn’t look very nice. But the first day of work, we met the couple we were helping out and they were the kindest people ever! Every chance I had I would try and talk to them and listen to their stories, the first time I listened to them I thought “WOW! They have been through and seen a lot of stuff!” they were so interesting they were talking about what it was like during all of the segregation and said that it was hard to live when that was going on because they weren’t treated with the most respect. They also talked about how many places they’ve been because of his career, (artist) they have been to Paris and a lot of other places that I can’t remember. He has also painted a lot of stuff for the REAL Elvis. Also his wife has had cancer for ten years! (I know that’s a long time!)&lt;br /&gt;The first day of work we did some yard work, then some painting the second half of the day. On Tuesday we did a LOT of painting, but on Wednesday we were painting then it started raining so we had to stop, but it was also supposed to rain on Thursday too, so that night they had a prayer meeting asking no rain so we could get some work done, and it didn’t rain! Isn’t that kewl! So on Thursday we did a LOT of weeding and we finished the house. So we got back to the dorms and it felt weird to finally be done with the house, it just went by so fast! That night we packed and got ready to go for the trip back home. On Friday we went down to the cafeteria and ate some breakfast and went to the zoo (which was real kewl!) and had a scavenger hunt. Then we got on the road home.&lt;br /&gt;This whole week I was looking at all the houses in Memphis and almost every one of them had bars on the windows and iron doors (scary). On Wednesday we had to go to the cafeteria for a little while because someone was breaking into dorms and stealing some stuff, so we couldn’t get into our dorms for a while. Also where we were working, it wasn’t even the bad part of Memphis. Also they told us not to where any bandanas cuz it was a sign of being in a gang and they didn’t want anyone to get shot. Every night after dinner we went to this thing called connections which is just like a worship time. It was really awesome. There were two songs that really touched me. Hosanna and God Of This City.&lt;br /&gt;That’s about all I did during Know Sweat. But I have learned a lot about how lucky I am to have all of this stuff I have, I am definitely gonna be more thankful of what I got. I even asked my mom if I could plant some flowers in the backyard to make it look pretty. But I will never forget about what I did this week, and how good it felt to help someone in need.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2499031018121427524-7832837724518799972?l=chellesissues.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ChellesIssues/~4/7jBDBTd7Vtw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/feeds/7832837724518799972/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2499031018121427524&amp;postID=7832837724518799972" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/7832837724518799972?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/7832837724518799972?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/2008/07/my-daughters-blog.html" title="My daughter's blog" /><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04245274450975207704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9BiVvV5QOs/S65DASLYmEI/AAAAAAAAACM/dtyoD9IUQZ0/S220/chelle+profile.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkICRHc9fip7ImA9WxdXF0o.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499031018121427524.post-2160194701337706371</id><published>2008-06-29T15:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-29T15:16:05.966-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-06-29T15:16:05.966-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="stupid drivers" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="road rage" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="anxiety" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="anger" /><title>I Want A Binky</title><content type="html">Isn't it cool how when a baby cries you can put a pacifier in his/her mouth and in most cases the crying instantly stops?  I love it.  No matter what the problem is, the pacifier usually takes care of it.  I realized just how important a pacifier is a couple of weeks ago when the mother of the infant I babysit forgot to pack the "binky".  It was a torturous day from Hell.  I have since bought a couple of backup binkies just in case it happens again.  The whole experience got me to thinking though.  How cool would it be if all our problems could be solved with a binky?!  Get a flat tire in the middle of nowhere, bank account overdrawn, toilet overflowed, washing machine quit working mid cycle.... who cares?  As long as you have a binky, it's all good.  I want one!  It would be such a good tool for people like me who have issues with road rage.  Someone cut you off at a 4-way stop?  Instead of cursing and making mean hand gestures, just pop in the binky.  It's like an instant chill pill. &lt;br /&gt;Okay, so while I'm talking about binkies... why do people call them binkies?  I can understand why some people call them a "passy" because it's a shortened version of the word pacifier.  But where did the term "binky" come from?  If you know the answer to that, let me know!  Really.  It's like this obsessive question that has been swirling in my head.  I really need an answer to this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2499031018121427524-2160194701337706371?l=chellesissues.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ChellesIssues/~4/PuVQAugD3U8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/feeds/2160194701337706371/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2499031018121427524&amp;postID=2160194701337706371" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/2160194701337706371?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/2160194701337706371?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/2008/06/i-want-binky.html" title="I Want A Binky" /><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04245274450975207704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9BiVvV5QOs/S65DASLYmEI/AAAAAAAAACM/dtyoD9IUQZ0/S220/chelle+profile.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C04CRXw-eip7ImA9WxdSGE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499031018121427524.post-7799777971328117736</id><published>2008-05-26T12:01:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-26T12:12:44.252-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-05-26T12:12:44.252-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="family" /><title>Good Old Uncle Wallace</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="justify"&gt;     I went to a funeral visitation for my great aunt the other day.  She was old and had Alzheimer's disease, so even though her passing was kind of sad, it was also a blessing.  Thankfully, she didn't linger in a nursing home for 10+ years like some Alzheimer's patients do.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;     So, anyway, I was at the visitation, catching up with family members... some of which I haven't seen in years.  I was making my rounds and came upon my great great aunt and uncle.  Yes, I said 2 greats.  I'm pushing 40, so how old do you reckon my great great aunt and uncle are?  To be honest, when I first saw them there, my first thought was, "I'll be jiggered!  They're still alive!"  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;     I started a conversation with my great great aunt, whose name is Dorothy.  She is the youngest sister of my great grandmother, who passed away 13 years ago.  Anyway, I was exchanging pleasantries with Dorothy.  We were having a nice chat, when her husband, great great uncle Wallace, piped up and said, "I haven't seen you in a &lt;em&gt;long&lt;/em&gt; time.  You've filled out a lot since the last time I saw you.  I hate to say that, but it's true."  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;     My face had to have turned 3 shades of red.  I'm pretty pale, so that's a lot of red.  I was kind of at a loss for words, so I just smiled and said, "Yeah, I guess I have."  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;     My great aunt Gatye (rhymes with "Katie" in case you're wondering) was sitting next to Dorothy and without missing a beat, she said, "Haven't we all?"  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;     That was an okay comeback, but let me explain something about Gatye.  She has Alzheimer's and is as skinny as a rail.  So for her to say that, it really doesn't mean anything at all.  Another lady in the group, who I think is a distant cousin, tried to make the situation better by saying that the trick to weight loss is to drink lots of water.  REALLY????  That's all I have to do??? I'll be jiggered again!  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;     A couple of my cousins, who are closer to me in age, were sitting nearby listening to the whole thing and their faces were priceless.  I think they felt embarrassed for me.  The whole thing was awkward, to say the least.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;     When I have to choose between "fight or flight", I'm going to pick "flight" pretty much anytime, so I grabbed Mike's arm and said, "Well, Mike has to get back to work, so we better go."  And then we beelined to the safety of my immediate family members to say our goodbyes and left.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;     After I got home, I did cry.  After all, it was really embarrassing.  I know I'm overweight and I'm trying hard to lose it.  It doesn't come off nearly as easy as it went on.  Anyone who has a weight problem will tell you that.  What I don't get is why good old Uncle Wallace thought it would be okay to point it out to me.  Did he not think I had noticed?  My response should have been to look down at my waist and say, "Oh crap!  How did that happen?"  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;     Why did he do that to me?  When you get old, does the part of the brain that discerns between good and bad conversation topics get smaller?  My grandfather says inappropriate things all the time and my elderly neighbors across the street talk about things that most people don't want to hear about... like goiters and corns and such.  &lt;em&gt;WHY???&lt;/em&gt;  Is it a prerequisite to getting old? If there are any old people out there reading this, can you please enlighten me?   &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2499031018121427524-7799777971328117736?l=chellesissues.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ChellesIssues/~4/TkWWAX_BrK4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/feeds/7799777971328117736/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2499031018121427524&amp;postID=7799777971328117736" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/7799777971328117736?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/7799777971328117736?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/2008/05/good-old-uncle-wallace.html" title="Good Old Uncle Wallace" /><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04245274450975207704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9BiVvV5QOs/S65DASLYmEI/AAAAAAAAACM/dtyoD9IUQZ0/S220/chelle+profile.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkINR387fCp7ImA9WxdSEkw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499031018121427524.post-2016774444563598638</id><published>2008-05-19T11:25:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-19T11:29:56.104-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-05-19T11:29:56.104-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="babies" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="family" /><title>That Old Familiar Feeling</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A year or two before I got pregnant with Hayley, my doctor told me it would be extremely difficult for me to have children... if ever.  So, when I got pregnant with Hayley, I felt so blessed.  That was over 13 years ago.  For whatever reason, God saw fit for me to only have one child.  There have been times I've felt sad by that, but I have always tried to keep it in perspective.  There are many women who don't even have ONE child, so who am I to complain?  Even so, it's been a source of disappointment over the years.  In more recent years, though, I've come to tell myself not to give it another thought because I'm really just getting too old to have children now anyway.  I didn't realize how much I had hardened my heart toward the thought of having a baby in the house until the last week or so of babysitting.  But having Lorelai here last week and now having Marly this week, I have those old familiar feelings bubbling to the surface.  Babies ARE a blessing from God.  I love watching them smile.  I love how they smell (except for the dirty diaper smell... I'm not crazy!)  I love the faces they make when they are sleeping.  I love everything about them.  My heart is bursting with joy, watching Marly sleep.  But it is also feeling that old longing of having something that will never be.  My own child is 13 and becoming more and more independent.  In a few years she won't need me anymore at all.  That makes me sad.  Anyway, I guess this babysitting thing is a way of appeasing that maternal need to hold and care for a child, without the actual 24 hour a day obligation... not that it would be such a horrible thing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Well, Marly is starting to wake up from her nap, so I better wrap this up.  She is much more mobile than Lorelai was, which is keeping me on my toes (literally).  She is crawling and pulling  up.  She was able to walk to me by holding on to the couch earlier, so she'll be walking/running on her own before too much longer!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2499031018121427524-2016774444563598638?l=chellesissues.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ChellesIssues/~4/Iv90x7Bec3w" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/feeds/2016774444563598638/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2499031018121427524&amp;postID=2016774444563598638" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/2016774444563598638?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/2016774444563598638?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/2008/05/that-old-familiar-feeling.html" title="That Old Familiar Feeling" /><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04245274450975207704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9BiVvV5QOs/S65DASLYmEI/AAAAAAAAACM/dtyoD9IUQZ0/S220/chelle+profile.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0UARng4fyp7ImA9WxdTE0U.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499031018121427524.post-1503123102161935981</id><published>2008-05-09T20:58:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-09T21:07:27.637-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-05-09T21:07:27.637-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="moose" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="jamie" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="charity" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="cats" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="family" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="anxiety" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dogs" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="pets" /><title>The Outsider</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="justify"&gt;My dogs are upset with me because of the "intruder" I've allowed into our home.  They love people and love having company but they &lt;em&gt;do not&lt;/em&gt; understand &lt;em&gt;babies&lt;/em&gt;.  The baby that I've started taking care of has all 5 of our pets in an uproar.  The cats don't like &lt;em&gt;any&lt;/em&gt; intruder, baby or otherwise.  Charity gets freaked out by children anyway, but a squealing baby has her hiding in another room or in her kennel all day.  Even Jamie, the nurturer, is at a loss.  They don't understand what's going on.  I'm paying more attention to the baby than to them and they just don't get it.  My Moose's feelings are hurt the worst.  Last night, after the baby had gone home, Moose still wouldn't pay attention to me.  She kept turning her back on me and if she wasn't completely ignoring me, she was laying on the couch with a sulking look on her face.  Today went pretty much the same as yesterday.  All the animals steered clear of the baby.  Moose would at least stay in the same room, mostly on the couch just watching her.  At one point, the baby was jabbering and making funny noises and Moose looked at me like, &lt;em&gt;"I don't see what's so special about that... it can't even speak English."&lt;/em&gt;  I can tell you with absolute certainty that my dogs know the baby isn't making any sense because they all understand words and the baby really isn't saying anything that resembles a word they know.  And then later, the baby had a poopy diaper.  Moose came down from the couch to get a better whiff of it (she is a dog afterall... that's what they do).  She looked at me after she sniffed it as if to say, &lt;em&gt;"Great.  It pooped in the house and didn't get in trouble.  What's next?  You going to let it pilfer through the trash too?" &lt;/em&gt; My poor Moose.  She's been my baby since she was a pup and now all of a sudden, she feels like she's not the center of my world anymore.  Maybe I'll go get some "special" treats for her this weekend.  She loves peanut butter flavored treats from PetSmart... maybe I'll get those.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2499031018121427524-1503123102161935981?l=chellesissues.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ChellesIssues/~4/GZVVTylLMZM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/feeds/1503123102161935981/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2499031018121427524&amp;postID=1503123102161935981" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/1503123102161935981?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/1503123102161935981?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/2008/05/outsider.html" title="The Outsider" /><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04245274450975207704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9BiVvV5QOs/S65DASLYmEI/AAAAAAAAACM/dtyoD9IUQZ0/S220/chelle+profile.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CE8EQHY4cSp7ImA9WxdTE0U.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499031018121427524.post-8214513473437883280</id><published>2008-05-09T20:16:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-09T20:26:41.839-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-05-09T20:26:41.839-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="family" /><title>I'm A Mom... How Hard Can It Be?</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I recently started caring for a friend's baby during the day.  Actually, today was my second day.  I've been a mom for 13 years, so it should be easy, right?  Right.  Well...  it's not as easy as I imagined it to be.  &lt;em&gt;It took me 13 years to get my own child, Hayley, trained to do stuff for me instead of me waiting on her.&lt;/em&gt;  I guess over the last 13 years I've blocked out a lot of memories, like feeding schedules, diaper changes, nap times.  &lt;em&gt;But it has all come back to me now&lt;/em&gt;.  This is actually a good thing for me, I think.  No more lounging around the house all day.  And I'm forced to keep myself on a sleep schedule.  No more late nights.  I've been so pooped the last couple of days that it hasn't been a problem for me to get to bed early, thus, making it easier for me to get up earlier in the morning.  It really is a good thing for me.  But I keep wondering how the heck I managed to keep up when Hayley was a baby.  All I can figure is I was younger and much thinner back then and I had a lot more energy.  I'm going to look at this babysitting gig as my new daily workout plan.  She should have me whipped back into shape by the end of the summer... I sure hope so anyway!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2499031018121427524-8214513473437883280?l=chellesissues.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ChellesIssues/~4/9SIwyZRsNmY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/feeds/8214513473437883280/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2499031018121427524&amp;postID=8214513473437883280" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/8214513473437883280?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/8214513473437883280?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/2008/05/im-mom-how-hard-can-it-be.html" title="I'm A Mom... How Hard Can It Be?" /><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04245274450975207704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9BiVvV5QOs/S65DASLYmEI/AAAAAAAAACM/dtyoD9IUQZ0/S220/chelle+profile.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEEBSXYyeCp7ImA9WxdTEE0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499031018121427524.post-8262803745538791151</id><published>2008-05-05T10:47:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-05T10:50:58.890-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-05-05T10:50:58.890-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="anxiety" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="faith" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="anger" /><title>Issue #12: A Much Needed Rest</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The last few weeks have been so stressful on my body, mind, and spirit.  In fact, this last week I finally felt stretched to my limit and just broke.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've talked a lot about our many blessings and how God has been there for us and I still hold true to that.  But the uncertainty of how everything with the car will turn out and now about how to pay for my daughter's braces and upcoming trip is all weighing on me.  It all comes down to faith, I know.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then a couple of weeks ago we took in an unexpected house guest who turned out to be a very bad house guest.  I really felt like he took us for granted from day 1. It became clear in the first week of his stay that he was a free-loader.  Right off the bat, he lost his key to our house.  He was costing us more than we had in food and supplies and never once compensated us when he said he would... and I don't necessarily mean compensation by way of actually paying us money... I mean like helping us around the house/yard.  I was constantly cleaning up after him and when it came time to mow, he disappeared for 4 days.  It was constantly stuff like that and I got tired of it really fast.  I snapped and Mike had to tell his friend it was time to go... but for the record, we held up on our end of the deal.  We told him from the beginning he had until the 1st and then he would have to go.  But when the time came, Mike had to pretty much force him out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;So, here we are 3 days later.  I have my house back and the locks are changed.  I slept for 12 hours last night.  It was a much needed rest.  I feel like I could sleep even longer, truth be told. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will be getting more info on the prognosis for our car sometime today.  Pray for good news!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2499031018121427524-8262803745538791151?l=chellesissues.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ChellesIssues/~4/esEP8pmKduA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/feeds/8262803745538791151/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2499031018121427524&amp;postID=8262803745538791151" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/8262803745538791151?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/8262803745538791151?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/2008/05/issue-12-much-needed-rest.html" title="Issue #12: A Much Needed Rest" /><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04245274450975207704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9BiVvV5QOs/S65DASLYmEI/AAAAAAAAACM/dtyoD9IUQZ0/S220/chelle+profile.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkUFQnk9fCp7ImA9WxZaEk8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499031018121427524.post-5551360263818939119</id><published>2008-04-26T10:31:00.009-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-26T11:43:33.764-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-04-26T11:43:33.764-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="introversion" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="twitter" /><title>Issue #11: Twitters and Tweets</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="justify"&gt;My newest fascination is this site called &lt;a href="http://twitter.com/"&gt;Twitter&lt;/a&gt;. I know that most of my friends and family who read my blogs don't have a clue what Twitter is... so let me explain. It's a social networking site. It's not really like &lt;a href="http://myspace.com/"&gt;myspace&lt;/a&gt;, but it's not exactly a chatroom either. It's kind of centered around the question, "What are you doing?" &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ddO9idmax0o"&gt;Click here &lt;/a&gt;for more detailed info.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I have a special request to other twitterers in the last half of this post. If you already know your way around twitter, you can skip to that part.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;I won't be offended that you skipped the first half of my blog.... this time. ;)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, a friend of ours told Mike and I about Twitter and told us to join. I've had to learn some new terminology since joining Twitter. Like, a lot of folks there refer to their individual communities of followers as Twitterville or Twitterland. So, if they are directing a post at everyone, they will say something like, "Goodnight Twitterville!" Another word used is "tweet". When you send a post, it is not called a post. It is a tweet. So if you get on there and someone says, "I saw your tweet", you'll know what they mean. Here's another thing... "followers" and "following". You don't "add friends" on twitter. You "follow" people. Or they "follow" you. Our friend, Jim, told us that it's good form to follow someone if they follow you. In most cases I do that. But, I've run into a few that I chose not to either because after reading their tweets I found them to be very alarming and scary or they were solicitors that I found annoying. Let's just say, I'm kind of picky about the folks that I follow or allow to follow me. If I was more of an outgoing person, I might not be so selective. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;When you are sending a tweet directly at an individual, you use the @ sign followed by their user name. So, if someone were saying something to me, directly, they would start it as @jcssbrown and then say whatever they wanted to say to me. Or if they were talking &lt;em&gt;about&lt;/em&gt; me, rather than &lt;em&gt;to&lt;/em&gt; me, they would refer to me as &lt;em&gt;@jcssbrown&lt;/em&gt; and not as Chelle. And... no matter what you say on twitter, you have to be able to do it in 140 characters or less. If it takes more than that, you talk too much.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And here are some other cool things you can find associated with Twitter. I won't actually explain them all... you'll have to go look at them yourself. Just trust me; they are cool! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I use &lt;a href="http://twitterfeed.com/"&gt;twitterfeed&lt;/a&gt; to let Twitterland know when I've posted a new blog. Nifty, huh? Also, if I'm away from home, I can use my cell phone to send and receive tweets. That's kind of fun. And then there's &lt;a href="http://twittearth.com/"&gt;twittearth&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://tweetscan.com/"&gt;tweetscan&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://twittervision.com/"&gt;twittervision&lt;/a&gt;, and &lt;a href="http://www.tweetclouds.com/user_pages/jcssbrown.html"&gt;tweetclouds&lt;/a&gt;. Those are what I've run across lately, but I'm sure there are several others that I am not aware of yet. If you are a twitterer and you know of some other cool Twitter related sites, post a comment and let me know!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so here's something that has been bothering me. I can't get any of my real life friends to join twitter and follow me. The only real life friends I have there are &lt;a href="http://twitter.com/jimwalton"&gt;Jim&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://twitter.com/thetechnodiva"&gt;Mary&lt;/a&gt;, and my husband &lt;a href="http://twitter.com/DowntownMike"&gt;Mike&lt;/a&gt;. I acquired a couple of Jim's friends, who seem like REALLY nice people. The thing is, they are all technically minded and talk a lot about tech stuff. I like web-design stuff and I know a little about html. I can't write a code, but I can alter one if I need to. I know my way around a computer pretty well, but I'm not quite as technically minded as they are. Anyhow, I've managed to get a couple of new followers who have more of my interests... actually, they found me... I didn't find them. But at any rate, I'm glad they did. So, here's my query: If you are a twitterer and you love animals, love children, love crafts, love God, then why not &lt;a href="http://twitter.com/jcssbrown"&gt;follow me&lt;/a&gt;? You don't have to fit ALL those criteria, just one will do! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2499031018121427524-5551360263818939119?l=chellesissues.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ChellesIssues/~4/X4N4RQ8LJtM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/feeds/5551360263818939119/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2499031018121427524&amp;postID=5551360263818939119" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/5551360263818939119?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/5551360263818939119?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/2008/04/issue-11-twitters-and-tweets.html" title="Issue #11: Twitters and Tweets" /><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04245274450975207704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9BiVvV5QOs/S65DASLYmEI/AAAAAAAAACM/dtyoD9IUQZ0/S220/chelle+profile.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0cERXs6eyp7ImA9WxZbFEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499031018121427524.post-7196296507606176926</id><published>2008-04-17T21:07:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-17T21:16:44.513-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-04-17T21:16:44.513-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="beliefs" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="anxiety" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="voices" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="faith" /><title>Issue #10: Control (or lack of)</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="justify"&gt;He got me again.  He always does.  I never see it coming.  And then when it happens, I'm always... well, I don't even have a word for it.  Humbled... torn apart... broken.  100 emotions at once.  It's an indescribable feeling.   I don't even know if I can really put into words what led up to it or why.  It just happened. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thing is, I've had all this stress lately and I do not deal well with stress.  I never have.  I get myself so worked up and worried over things that I can't control... and that's the operative word... &lt;em&gt;control.&lt;/em&gt;  But then God always finds away to break through all my stupidity and tell me that I never had control and I never will.  Control is HIS, not mine. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He got to me through music.  It almost always happens that way (except for the time He hit me with a tree branch... a story for another time.)  But anyway, there I was... minding my own business, listening to music, surfing the 'net... when I started actually listening to the words.  That was my undoing.  I went from mindless self-indulgence to a puddle of tears in nothing flat.  And then I did something that I don't do nearly enough.  I prayed... right then and there and just let go of everything and let Him have it.  And through the music, He told me I'm never alone and He loves me.  He'll take care of everything.  All I have to do is love Him and trust Him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2499031018121427524-7196296507606176926?l=chellesissues.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ChellesIssues/~4/2U01m23ERA4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/feeds/7196296507606176926/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2499031018121427524&amp;postID=7196296507606176926" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/7196296507606176926?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/7196296507606176926?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/2008/04/issue-10-control-or-lack-of.html" title="Issue #10: Control (or lack of)" /><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04245274450975207704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9BiVvV5QOs/S65DASLYmEI/AAAAAAAAACM/dtyoD9IUQZ0/S220/chelle+profile.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUAGQH4yeSp7ImA9WxZbEk4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499031018121427524.post-3062289031154271474</id><published>2008-04-14T23:22:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-14T23:28:41.091-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-04-14T23:28:41.091-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="polls" /><title>Another Fun Poll!</title><content type="html">I was a wee bit long-winded in my last two posts, so I'm going to make this one easy on you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's another poll for you. It's a little less threatening than the last one &lt;em&gt;that most of you all didn't participate in!&lt;/em&gt; ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;C'mon... just do it!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;form style="MARGIN: 0px" action="http://www.acepolls.com/vote/Who-is-your-favorite-Winnie-The-Pooh-character/602744/" method="post"&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;div style="BORDER-RIGHT: 1px solid; BORDER-TOP: 1px solid; BACKGROUND-IMAGE: url(http://www.acepolls.com/pollimages/bg/13.gif); BORDER-LEFT: 1px solid; WIDTH: 250px; COLOR: #c94093! important; BORDER-BOTTOM: 1px solid; BACKGROUND-COLOR: #ffbbe8"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold;color:#c90000;" &gt;Who is your favorite Winnie The Pooh character?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input type="radio" value="0" name="choice"&gt;Winnie The Pooh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input type="radio" value="1" name="choice"&gt;Tigger&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input type="radio" value="2" name="choice"&gt;Eeyore&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input type="radio" value="3" name="choice"&gt;Piglet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input type="radio" value="4" name="choice"&gt;Rabbit&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input type="radio" value="5" name="choice"&gt;Kanga&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input type="radio" value="6" name="choice"&gt;Roo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input type="radio" value="7" name="choice"&gt;Owl&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input type="radio" value="8" name="choice"&gt;Gopher&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input type="radio" value="9" name="choice"&gt;Christopher Robin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;input type="submit" value=" Vote! "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="COLOR: #800080! important" href="http://www.acepolls.com/vote/Who-is-your-favorite-Winnie-The-Pooh-character/602744/"&gt;(View Results)&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="COLOR: #800080! important" href="http://www.acepolls.com/create/"&gt;Create a Poll&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/form&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2499031018121427524-3062289031154271474?l=chellesissues.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ChellesIssues/~4/IMb6SgFLVqk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/feeds/3062289031154271474/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2499031018121427524&amp;postID=3062289031154271474" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/3062289031154271474?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/3062289031154271474?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/2008/04/another-fun-poll.html" title="Another Fun Poll!" /><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04245274450975207704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9BiVvV5QOs/S65DASLYmEI/AAAAAAAAACM/dtyoD9IUQZ0/S220/chelle+profile.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DU4CRng-fSp7ImA9WxZUGEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499031018121427524.post-5607793335079583691</id><published>2008-04-10T14:50:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-10T15:06:07.655-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-04-10T15:06:07.655-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="beliefs" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="anxiety" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="faith" /><title>Issue #9: Ye Of Little Faith</title><content type="html">&lt;p align="justify"&gt;I've learned a lot this week.  I learned that I put too much faith into the wrong things and not enough faith in God.  I also learned that I take my husband for granted.  This last week was probably one of the worst weeks of my life.  I won't say it was THE worst, but it ranked very close to my top 10.  But it also turned out to be one of the best learning experiences of my life.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It all started when Mike left town for some geek convention in Oklahoma City, several hours from here.  It didn't take long for me to start feeling the effects of separation anxiety... one of my &lt;em&gt;MANY&lt;/em&gt; issues.  Seriously, I was a nervous wreck the entire time he was gone and turned into a complete psycho.  Just ask him... he'll tell you.  Those few days he was gone, I realized just how much I depend on him and take him for granted.  I honestly don't think I could survive very long at all without him.  Anyway, by the 4th day... the day he was to come home... I was impatient and more anxious than ever for him to be home.  He called me first thing that morning (last Saturday) to tell me that his car had broke down and that he and our friend, Jim, were waiting for a tow truck.  Great.  All I wanted was for him to be home safe and now his car wasn't working.  Just great.  A little bit later, he called to tell me that the car dealership that the car was towed to had no mechanic on duty until the following Monday morning.  That made everything in my world go from bad to worse.  I had a complete meltdown... and I blamed God for it.  I thought for sure HE was teaching me a lesson and telling me that another 2 days alone might do me some good.  Well, as things turned out, Mike and Jim decided to rent a car and stick to the original schedule, instead of paying for 2 more nights in a hotel.  I was so glad to have Mike home that night!  We fretted the rest of the weekend about the car.  The man at the dealership said he really thought that the timing chain had broke, which is a very bad thing.  He told Mike that if it was just the timing chain and nothing else got messed up, we would be looking at $500 to fix it.  If the timing chain did other damage on the way out, we were looking at a new engine.  We wouldn't know for sure until the mechanic showed up Monday.  So the news was either going to be bad or really bad.  Either way, we didn't have the money to fix it.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Early Monday morning, Mike called the dealership and the mechanic was just getting to the car.  It was much worse than we thought it would be.  The car needed a new engine.  They told us they had already found a used engine that had 50,000 miles on it that would only cost us $2600.  It might as well have been $1,000,000.  After consulting with the wise men of my family (my dad and my brother) we decided not to let the dealership work on the car.  It wasn't worth the expense.  We still owed $2700 on the car and blue book value was $3100.  Putting another $2600 into it didn't make much sense.  Now we had to figure out how to get the car back home and find the money and means to do it.  First, I had to swallow my pride and ask my grandfather for a loan.  I didn't much doubt that he would give me the money, but I dreaded what his reaction would be to my asking.  Much to my surprise, he was very kind to me about the entire situation.  He didn't hesitate to give us the money.  He gave us enough to pay for the car rental, the $300 fee the dealership was charging us for just looking at the car, for paying off the $2700 we still owed on the car (so we could drop the insurance) and enough to buy another used car (which we are currently looking for).  We had a trailer lined up to haul back the car, but had difficulty locating someone with a truck big enough to pull it.  So, we ended up with a plan to drive the rental back to OKC, where we would then rent a U-Haul truck and trailer and haul the car back.  We hadn't factored that expense in when we asked Grandpa for help, so we weren't sure how we were going to come up with the additional funds.  As it turned out, one of the ministers at our church called and said they wanted to help us and would give us $350.  Wouldn't you know.... that's exactly how much the U-Haul truck/trailer was going to cost us???  I'll tell you... I started bawling (again).  I was so overwhelmed.  Bryan couldn't have known how much we needed.  That was God at work.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, Mike, my dad, and I headed for OKC in the rental (which, by the way, was a little black VW bug).  It was a long cramped trip, as you can well imagine.  Our first stop was at the U-Haul place.  My dad and I took the truck followed Mike (in the rental) to the car dealership to pick up our dead car.  I have to say... as soon as I saw it sitting there on the lot, I got emotional (again).  Mike's car is one of those things I put too much faith in.  It was the dependable car.  I was never afraid of it breaking down and leaving us stranded.  Now, it's not only broke down, &lt;em&gt;it's dead&lt;/em&gt;.  Anyway... back to the story... the man at the dealership came out to help us load the car onto the trailer and would you believe he &lt;em&gt;waived &lt;/em&gt;the $300 fee?  He said he just didn't feel right charging us. Between the dealership and our church, we ended up saving $650.  That was God, still hard at work for us!  But it doesn't stop there... we were running late and it was passed time for the rental place to close and we still had the rental car to drop off.  Well, we got to the car rental place 10 minutes after they were supposed to have closed and they were so busy that day, they were still open!!  I was finally starting to feel like God really was on our side and not out to get me, as I had previously thought.  On the way home, there were storms all around.  We could see them coming from the south and from the west.  We were hearing warnings on the radio for places behind us (to the south, where we had been).  We managed to stay ahead of the storms to the south and on the edge of the ones from the west.  We saw lots of lightening and nasty clouds, but not one drop of rain.  By the time we made it home that night, we were feeling very blessed.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mike and I were resigned to the fact that we would have to share my undependable car until we can locate a car for us to buy.  We hate that because he has to drive out of town once or twice per week for work.  My car can't handle the amount of driving that he has to do.  But God stepped in again.  He sent one of His good people to Mike's place of business Tuesday afternoon.  This very nice man, who is a friend of a friend and also happens to do some work for Mike's place of business heard our story and offered Mike the use of a vehicle that he hadn't been using until we are able to find another car.  &lt;em&gt;The blessings just keep overflowing!&lt;/em&gt;  We won't forget the good things God has done for us in our time of need.  We hope that we will be able to bless others the way they have blessed us! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Matthew 17:20 (NIV)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;He replied, "Because you have so little faith. I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2499031018121427524-5607793335079583691?l=chellesissues.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ChellesIssues/~4/8UByZ0Uqxvg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/feeds/5607793335079583691/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2499031018121427524&amp;postID=5607793335079583691" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/5607793335079583691?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/5607793335079583691?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/2008/04/issue-9-ye-of-little-faith.html" title="Issue #9: Ye Of Little Faith" /><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04245274450975207704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9BiVvV5QOs/S65DASLYmEI/AAAAAAAAACM/dtyoD9IUQZ0/S220/chelle+profile.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0QAR38-eCp7ImA9WxZUE04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499031018121427524.post-857647599145221272</id><published>2008-04-04T13:22:00.010-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-04T13:55:46.150-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-04-04T13:55:46.150-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="moose" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="bebe" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="jamie" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="charity" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="cats" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="gato" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="family" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dogs" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="pets" /><title>Issue #8:  Devoted Pet Mom</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I figure that from time to time I will devote a blog to one or more of my pets. In fact, I've already talked about my oldest dog, Jamie, and her OCD problem. Since my pets &lt;em&gt;(my babies)&lt;/em&gt; are a huge part of my life and I know I will refer to them in future blogs, here is an introduction. I have 5 pets, all with very different personalities. Jamie, Charity, and Sandy Sue (usually referred to as "Moose") are all dogs. Gato and Bebe are cats. With the exception of Moose, all of them are rescued pets. Their abusive backgrounds are the reason they all have different issues. &lt;em&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.myspace.com/jcssbrown"&gt;I have a slide show of them on my myspace page if you'd like to see them.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Jamie&lt;/strong&gt; is our oldest and gentlest dog. She is a black lab mix. She never had puppies, but she has a very nurturing personality. We have taken in many "foster" pets in the past and she always worried over them like a mama dog. We acquired Jamie 6 years ago. We were moving in to a rental farm house. The previous tenant (who had been evicted) left her behind... which was not only fortunate for us, but fortunate for Jamie. That man never fed her. She had to forage for food in the horse's grain bin. The horses didn't like it and would chase her off. Apparently, one time a horse actually stomped her and broke one of her front legs. Her "owner" never took her to the vet to have it set properly, so to this day she has problems if she steps on that leg wrong. She also had marks on her snout and forehead from being shot with a pellet gun. We found a lot of pellets in the house when we were moving in, so we can only assume that her owner is the one who shot her. The first time we saw Jamie, she was laying in a shed, scared to death. She was skin and bones. When we would reach out to pet her, she would cower and pee. She still does that with strangers now, but not nearly as bad. Now she is a fat dog with a family who loves her. We hope that she doesn't remember that horrible man who had her before us. But we know that some effects are still with her, such as the OCD. By the way... an update on that: The medication did not work, so we have been forced to kennel her when we aren't home and lock her out of the bedrooms so we can see her at all times when we are home. It will have to be this way until we can afford to take out the carpets and put down laminent flooring.  It's hard on Jamie because she thinks she's above having to be confined to a kennel.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Gato&lt;/strong&gt;, whose full name is "El Gato Loco", is our 2nd oldest pet. We also acquired him when we lived in that rental farm house. It was July 4th weekend, 6 years ago. I remember this because when I found him, I thought he would die because our veterinarian was gone the whole weekend. We're not sure how Gato came to be in our yard. We think maybe someone dumped him. He was a kitten... maybe about 3 or 4 months old. Our landlord had cats living in the barn, but they were all spayed or neutered. The barn cats got a hold of the kitten and beat him up pretty badly. I heard the sound of a kitten outside and went to looking around and found him under a bush. He hadn't eaten in quite some time and his eyes were dull. He had a cold and was very weak. He was so listless that when I put food in front of him, he had no interest in it. I ended up force feeding him baby formula and Gerber baby food chicken. He started perking up by the end of the weekend and I got him to the vet and he got a lot of antibiotics. He had a couple of puncture wounds that I did not see, probably from being bitten by one of the barn cats. The vet said Gato definitely would have died had I not found him when I did. He hasn't suffered any ill effects. He's a big fat cat who owns the house. According to him, our only purpose in life is to please him. He and Jamie are best friends to this day...probably since it was just the two of them for a long time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Charity&lt;/strong&gt; has issues. Big time. We're still not sure what variety of dog she is. The vet says she is a sharpei mix. I've looked at books and I think she is a Sheba-Inu mix. At any rate, she is definitely one of a kind. Mike found her when he was working for WalMart. She was living behind the store using the empty pallets for shelter. She most likely had been dumped. She was at nearest estimate, 6 months old. She had a huge gash on her forehead that was partially healed but definitely infected. She was a mess. We weren't supposed to have pets at our rental farm house, but our bleeding heart landlord and landlady (who was and is a good friend of mine) allowed Jamie and Gato. When Mike brought Charity home, we were definitely pushing our limits. We had to build a temporary pen outside for her. Soon after, we bought our own home and made Charity an inside dog. She is a very nervous, high strung dog. And yet she is also more submissive than Jamie. She definitely thinks that she is supposed to be lower than us. She won't make eye contact and if you lower yourself to her, she will get even lower. She sounds like a coward, huh? She's not. She guards the house and us at all times. When we are all in the living room relaxing, she lays with her back to us, facing the door, watching for intruders. She has the most intimidating bark I have ever heard. I do believe she would rip an intruder's head off. She gets really nervous if the family is in separate rooms. She won't lay still. She paces from room to room so she can keep on eye on everyone in the house. I think it's just in her nature to protect her family. The one thing I find sad about Charity is that she doesn't know how to play with toys. She doesn't know how to play, period. We've tried and tried over the years, but she has no interest in it. She does rough house with the other dogs in the yard though. The other thing about Charity is she doesn't bark unless she feels threatened. The other 2 dogs learned to "speak" when getting a treat or a toy. Charity won't. To her, barking is only used as an alert system. She has a beautiful smile. You say her name and she smiles really big. She is a happy dog who takes her job as family protector very seriously. One thing that completely freaks her out is when the cats decide to use her kennel to take a nap. To her, the kennel is sacred. It's hers. It's her safe place. It's base. If she gets blocked out of it or the cats are in it, she paces and whines. It freaks her out. I think the cats do it on purpose just to get her riled up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sandy Sue&lt;/strong&gt;, The Moose, is a yellow lab mix. We think maybe she is part great dane. We're not sure. She is the youngest of our dogs. She is about 3 years old and still just a baby. She's a mama's girl. She wasn't exactly rescued. Someone was giving away pups in front of WalMart and Mike brought her home. I was really mad. That was near the beginning of me being a stay-at-home mom/candlemaker, so I was the one who potty trained Moose and bonded with her. She was so little that when she tried to jump up on the couch with me, she would just bang her head into the side of it. Now she doesn't even have to jump up on it, she just steps up on it and takes up the whole thing. Since she has never been abused, she has grown up with the least of issues. But also because of that, she is VERY spoiled. She thinks she's the boss of everybody and everything in the house. If I get on to one of the cats or the dogs for something, she is right there on them, backing me up. It's actually very irritating. I can't seem to get her to understand that she's NOT the police. She has a fetish with sticks. She can't go outside without finding a stick (or a tree limb) that she can taunt us with. She's dangerous with them too. She comes at you and swings it around. It you're not quick, she'll nail you with it. She hates squirrels. They are the ultimate evil, as far as she is concerned. She has a myspace page. I know. Spoiled. Check it out at &lt;a href="http://www.myspace.com/babymoosepuppy"&gt;www.myspace.com/babymoosepuppy&lt;/a&gt;. Check out her blog there too. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mike rescued &lt;strong&gt;Bebe&lt;/strong&gt; in a WalMart parking lot. She is the youngest member of our family. Bebe is nuts. I'm not kidding. She's completely nuts. You can look at her eyes and tell she's not all there. On top of that, she hates everything. If Mike or I try to pick her up and hold her, she squirms and growls at us. She hates us. She only likes 3 things... I take that back... she LOVES 3 things. Hayley, Charity and our other cat, Gato. But it's more like an obsessive kind of love... like if she were human, she would be dangerous, like a stalker. She follows Hayley around like a puppy. If Hayley sits in a chair, Bebe is right there in her lap. If Hayley gets up to go to another room, Bebe takes off after her. She has to be right there. When Hayley isn't home, she sneaks into her room and steals stuff. Usually, it's pretty, shiny, frilly stuff she steals. We have to keep Hayley's bedroom door shut during the day because of Bebe's obsession with Hayley's property. Bebe has started this new thing this week that is really disturbing. Hayley is actually allergic to cats and has to take medication daily for it or else the cats have to go. During the night, Hayley sleeps with her bedroom door shut so the cats won't sleep with her and get her allergy symptoms all stirred up. Bebe hates that. She now has this nightly ritual of trying to strong arm herself into Hayley's room. She starts from the dining room (2 rooms away from Hayley's room) and runs full bore through the dining room and front living room and rams head first into Hayley's bedroom door. I tell you, she's freakin' nuts! We're having to lock her in the bathroom at bedtime until she settles down so that Hayley can go to sleep! Is that crazy or what? I've never seen an animal that devoted to her human. It's funny and creepy at the same time. As for her love for Gato and Charity, she won't leave either of them alone. I think Gato secretly likes the attention, but Charity definitely does not! It freaks her out! I think maybe Bebe is just messing with her head.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, are you sensing a pattern here? Mike still calls me every now and then and tells me about the cute puppies being given away in front of the store, or the poor dog that has been running around the parking lot all day, or the stray cat that has been begging food from passersby all day. I would be totally sucked in to bringing another animal into the house if it weren't for the fact that we are maxed out on pets (according the our city's ordinance). We've got to get Mike away from WalMart!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh... and have I mentioned that we're counting the years until Hayley is 18 and out of the house so we can give her bedroom to the dogs? We are sad and pathetic people!! And before you go saying, "What a horrible mother!", I'm just kidding! Hayley can totally stay here until she's 19!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="MARGIN: 5px"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vd3d3LnRoZWFuaW1hbHJlc2N1ZXNpdGUuY29tL3RwYy9BUlNfbGlua3RvdXNfNDY4eDYwXzAx"&gt;&lt;img alt="The Animal Rescue Site" src="http://www.greatergood.com/images/linktous/468x60_ars-oneclick.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2499031018121427524-857647599145221272?l=chellesissues.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ChellesIssues/~4/MKhWu24UkMo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/feeds/857647599145221272/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2499031018121427524&amp;postID=857647599145221272" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/857647599145221272?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/857647599145221272?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/2008/04/issue-8-devoted-pet-mom.html" title="Issue #8:  Devoted Pet Mom" /><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04245274450975207704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9BiVvV5QOs/S65DASLYmEI/AAAAAAAAACM/dtyoD9IUQZ0/S220/chelle+profile.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A04FRX47fSp7ImA9WxZVGEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499031018121427524.post-5218354421112165383</id><published>2008-03-29T14:05:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-29T14:45:14.005-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-03-29T14:45:14.005-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="bible" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="beliefs" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="science" /><title>Issue #7: Fact or Fiction?</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Note:  I included hyperlinks in the text below to some of my sources.&lt;/em&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I just read a &lt;a href="http://www.happynews.com/news/3282008/mich-teen-finds-fossilized-shark-tooth.htm"&gt;news article &lt;/a&gt;that left me feeling very frustrated.  It was about a boy who found an extinct shark's tooth in a Michigan river.  All these stories are pretty much the same... &lt;em&gt;"What?  A shark tooth where?? How did that happen?"&lt;/em&gt;  And then you get all the "scientific" theories... which are just theories because they don't really have a clue.  Some say that North America and Eurasia used to be covered with several small oceans... &lt;em&gt;millions of years ago&lt;/em&gt;.  I cringe every time I hear that phrase "millions (or billions) of years ago".  Seeing as how no one was around that long ago, I'd call that a &lt;em&gt;theory&lt;/em&gt; and not a &lt;em&gt;fact&lt;/em&gt;.  The scientist quoted in the article today said that maybe a long ago native of the area (I'm pretty sure he meant "caveman") carried it that far inland and dropped it.  He couldn't figure out how it would have ended up in a Michigan river otherwise.  For the love of Pete!  &lt;em&gt;(I don't know who Pete is.  I just like to say that when I'm frustrated.) &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the record, I am not "down on" science.  Science is necessary.  What I do not agree with is when scientific theories are made to sound like proven fact, when they are not... which is the case with the news story about the boy in Michigan.  It really made me angry to read that the Megaladon lived millions of years ago.  They don't know that for a fact, so therefore it shouldn't be worded as if it were a fact.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, the story made me think of other stories I had heard about shark's teeth being found in the middle of North America, so I decided to do a little more digging and see how many other states have reported finding them.  I didn't have to look very long.  &lt;a href="http://www.oceansofkansas.com/KS-sharks.html"&gt;Kansas&lt;/a&gt;, Michigan, Texas, South Dakota, Georgia, North and South Carolina were all mentioned, as well as Canada, Peru, Chile, Belgium, Jordan, Kazakhstan, Morocco, and The Netherlands.  I'm sure there are probably more.  I only had to look at 2 sites to find all of these.  So, this is a global happening.  If we are to believe that the scientists' theories are true and that these countries were covered with a bunch of oceans, then where did the cavemen live?  There wouldn't be much land at all... there would be a bunch of little islands sticking out from a water world.  &lt;em&gt;We're supposed to believe that???&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And also, think about this... if we are to believe the theory that some native carried that tooth hundreds of miles inland and then dropped it, are we also to believe that's how all the other teeth were dropped all around the globe?  &lt;a href="http://www.buriedtreasurefossils.com/"&gt;&lt;em&gt;This site &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;shows how plentiful the teeth are.  They find so many that they have them cataloged and for sale.&lt;/em&gt;  Picture it:  Little hunched over cavemen all on their own little journeys, leaving a trail of shark's teeth behind them.  &lt;em&gt;Whatever.&lt;/em&gt;  That actually makes me think of a third theory, which is that man evolved from apes and didn't even exist when the dinos existed.  Hmm... so how did those freaky little cavemen get all those Megaladon teeth?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm more inclined to believe that the shark got there because of the Flood, &lt;em&gt;thousands&lt;/em&gt; of years ago... not millions.  It sure makes a lot more sense.  The earth was completely covered in water for a long period of time.  It would only make sense that underwater creatures would get stranded on land and die when the water receded.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Science has started to prove that the Bible account of the flood could be very true.  The Bible says in &lt;a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?book_id=1&amp;amp;chapter=7&amp;amp;verse=11&amp;amp;version=31&amp;amp;context=verse"&gt;Genesis 7&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;em&gt;"all the springs of the great deep burst forth, and the floodgates of the heavens were opened."&lt;/em&gt;  I have never doubted this account of what happened, but it sure made me happy when my beliefs were validated by a &lt;a href="http://english.pravda.ru/science/earth/89420-0/"&gt;scientific discovery of underground oceans beneath North America&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2007/02/070227-ocean-asia.html"&gt;Eurasia&lt;/a&gt;.  It's a fact.  They do exist.  And it is very plausible that they would have erupted at the time of the flood.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now you know what I believe.  You all believe what you want.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2499031018121427524-5218354421112165383?l=chellesissues.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ChellesIssues/~4/wUzNflOlF4Q" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/feeds/5218354421112165383/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2499031018121427524&amp;postID=5218354421112165383" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/5218354421112165383?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/5218354421112165383?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/2008/03/issue-7-fact-or-fiction.html" title="Issue #7: Fact or Fiction?" /><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04245274450975207704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9BiVvV5QOs/S65DASLYmEI/AAAAAAAAACM/dtyoD9IUQZ0/S220/chelle+profile.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CE4GQn4ycSp7ImA9WxZVFk4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499031018121427524.post-5911717974466355269</id><published>2008-03-27T10:42:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-27T10:48:43.099-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-03-27T10:48:43.099-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="polls" /><title>Fun Poll #1</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I know I'm not the only person with issues, so I've created a poll (out of curiosity) to see how many of you have issues too. Don't worry... it's only for fun and no one (including me) will know who said what.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come on... just do it!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;form style="MARGIN: 0px" action="http://www.acepolls.com/vote/Which-of-these-common-neuroses-do-you-have/587107/" method="post"&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;div style="BORDER-RIGHT: 1px solid; BORDER-TOP: 1px solid; BACKGROUND-IMAGE: url(http://www.acepolls.com/pollimages/bg/1.gif); BORDER-LEFT: 1px solid; WIDTH: 250px; COLOR: #ff6fcf! important; BORDER-BOTTOM: 1px solid; BACKGROUND-COLOR: #4c4c4c"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold;color:#ff0000;" &gt;Which of these common neuroses do you have?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input type="radio" value="0" name="choice"&gt;Anxiety&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input type="radio" value="1" name="choice"&gt;Pyromania&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input type="radio" value="2" name="choice"&gt;Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input type="radio" value="3" name="choice"&gt;Hysteria&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input type="radio" value="4" name="choice"&gt;Phobias&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input type="radio" value="5" name="choice"&gt;2 of the above&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input type="radio" value="6" name="choice"&gt;3 of the above&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input type="radio" value="7" name="choice"&gt;4 of the above&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input type="radio" value="8" name="choice"&gt;all of the above&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input type="radio" value="9" name="choice"&gt;none of the above&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;input type="submit" value=" Vote! "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="COLOR: #ffffff! important" href="http://www.acepolls.com/vote/Which-of-these-common-neuroses-do-you-have/587107/"&gt;(View Results)&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="COLOR: #ffffff! important" href="http://www.acepolls.com/create/"&gt;Create a Poll&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/form&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2499031018121427524-5911717974466355269?l=chellesissues.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ChellesIssues/~4/sreSFe5ur1Q" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/feeds/5911717974466355269/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2499031018121427524&amp;postID=5911717974466355269" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/5911717974466355269?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/5911717974466355269?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/2008/03/fun-poll-1.html" title="Fun Poll #1" /><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04245274450975207704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9BiVvV5QOs/S65DASLYmEI/AAAAAAAAACM/dtyoD9IUQZ0/S220/chelle+profile.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEIEQX0zeip7ImA9WxZVE00.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499031018121427524.post-6473586582845926894</id><published>2008-03-23T14:40:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-23T15:01:40.382-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-03-23T15:01:40.382-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="easter" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="family" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dogs" /><title>Issue #6: Easter Egg Hunts</title><content type="html">&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Easter was a bit different for me this year. Usually my Dad's side of the family all get together... 10 adults and 3 kids (one of which is now a teenager). We're not a huge family, but still, it's a big deal for us to get together for holidays. I look forward to it. I love hiding candy/eggs for the kids and I especially love it when the weather cooperates. We decided to not do our traditional Easter gathering this year because we all were together on Good Friday for my youngest cousin's wedding... which was a fun, festive event in itself. I really wasn't terribly disappointed about us not doing our usual get together until today. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, after church, Hayley left with her dad and step mom, which left Mike and I childless for the day. We decided that we would grab some food from Sonic so I wouldn't have to cook. As we were driving through town, we saw several different houses where adults were outside hiding Easter eggs. We both started to feel bummed and thought maybe we might crash somebody else's Easter celebration and offer to hide eggs for them, but then we kind of thought maybe that would be in poor taste, since we didn't even have a casserole for their potluck dinner.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, we came up with another plan. We decided to do an Easter egg hunt in our own back yard for our dogs... using dog treats of course. Now you are probably thinking, "What a couple of sad, pathetic losers!" You are absolutely right! But we love our dogs and it's a really pretty day so, why not? What's wrong with making the most of an otherwise depressing situation? It was fun. We strategically hid treats around the steps and around trees and then we turned the dogs loose. They didn't know what to think but, once they figured out there were treats in the yard, the hunt was on. Moose has the best nose and she's the most aggressive, so she did get more than the others... which we had kind of figured would be the case, so we put extras in our pockets to feed the other 2 so they wouldn't feel left out. I didn't think that a dog treat hunt would be as fun as the kid's Easter egg hunt, but it was very close. So, now I'm not quite so bummed... in fact, I'm feeling rather content. I think I'll go take a nap after all this excitement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2499031018121427524-6473586582845926894?l=chellesissues.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ChellesIssues/~4/6i6FKV1L3vM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/feeds/6473586582845926894/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2499031018121427524&amp;postID=6473586582845926894" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/6473586582845926894?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/6473586582845926894?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/2008/03/issue-6-easter-egg-hunts.html" title="Issue #6: Easter Egg Hunts" /><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04245274450975207704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9BiVvV5QOs/S65DASLYmEI/AAAAAAAAACM/dtyoD9IUQZ0/S220/chelle+profile.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkEGR3o-fyp7ImA9WxZVEE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499031018121427524.post-9003868626366586137</id><published>2008-03-20T11:00:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-20T11:30:26.457-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-03-20T11:30:26.457-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="forgiveness" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="gossip" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="sin" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="anger" /><title>Issue #5: Sticks and Stones</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Mark+11:25-26&amp;amp;version=31;"&gt;Mark 11:25-26&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Whoever made up that stupid saying "Sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me" was a liar. Words do hurt. A lot. Even as I'm typing this, it is taking everything I've got to hold back tears of anger and hurt. What's really sad is, the person who hurt me doesn't even have a clue. Even if he/she did know, it wouldn't matter. He/she is one of those people who is always 100% honest and is never wrong... &lt;em&gt;ever&lt;/em&gt;. And to be honest, that's part of what has me so angry. I &lt;em&gt;know&lt;/em&gt; this is just how he/she is and yet I still let it get to me. The problem is, even though the words were probably unneccessary, they were still true and that is the part that I'm dwelling on. And that leads me into my next thought:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a Christian, we are taught that our past is forgiven and we must move forward and not look back. My question is this: How do I look forward when there is always someone reminding me of the bad things I did "once upon a time"? As if I didn't feel bad enough about it in the first place, now I have to relive it over and over because &lt;em&gt;people&lt;/em&gt; can't let it go. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not just the person who hurt me today. There are others... even an elder at my church did it once. And actually, I feel like maybe he (the elder) probably hurt me even worse just because he's one of the people teaching us about forgiveness and moving on and yet he felt it neccessary to dredge up the past... that he had only heard about 2nd hand from someone who worked where I used to work... someone who never even talked to me because we didn't even work in the same department. Are you following this??? The elder who felt it wise to dredge up my past was only basing what he said off of complete and total &lt;em&gt;gossip&lt;/em&gt;. He never even asked what parts of it were true. He just assumed he knew everything. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It angers me to think about how we, as Christians, tell people that as long as they repent and ask God for forgiveness, then all will be forgiven and become a thing of the past... that they are to move forward and not look back. But as soon as there is an opportunity to, we hold it over their heads. Maybe it's because it makes us feel better to point other's mistakes so we don't have to look at our own. It's still hurtful no matter what the reason.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'll ask again... How do I look forward when others are constantly reminding me? I have done what I was supposed to do. I openly confessed everything I ever did to God and I asked for forgiveness. And I have tried to move forward and do things the right way, but was it good enough? Maybe for God, but apparently not for humans. Humans want blood, I think. I mean, for crying out loud, it's been almost 7 years since I cheated, divorced, smoked, or consumed alcohol. It's been 4 years since I confessed all and was rebaptized. What else do I need to do to prove I am a different person than I was then??? How do I convince people that I am a good person who has no intention of repeating the past? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I KNOW WHAT I DID&lt;/em&gt;. I don't need anyone else to remind me. I will always be sorry for the wrongs I committed. My goal is to learn from my mistakes and not relive them. I'll never forget what I did, but I will continue to try to move forward (even though some make it a constant struggle for me). I would like to think that I can help keep someone else from making the same mistakes I did.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know this started off as a rant or a venting of frustration, so I'd like to leave with something that makes at least a little sense. This is a huge thing I am going to ask of you:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When someone who has screwed up recognizes the need for repentance, forgiveness and a better life, don't hold them down. Don't hold their sins over their head. Help them. Guide them. But don't ever judge them. They will never truly be able to move forward until you show them the love and forgiveness of Jesus.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;And yes, I'll say it: I'm guilty of doing this to people too. Now that I've ranted, I realize that I have done the same thing... not on purpose of course, but just out of stupidity. &lt;em&gt;I'll work on it.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2499031018121427524-9003868626366586137?l=chellesissues.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ChellesIssues/~4/xjCWQeXb0xs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/feeds/9003868626366586137/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2499031018121427524&amp;postID=9003868626366586137" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/9003868626366586137?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/9003868626366586137?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/2008/03/issue-5-sticks-and-stones.html" title="Issue #5: Sticks and Stones" /><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04245274450975207704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9BiVvV5QOs/S65DASLYmEI/AAAAAAAAACM/dtyoD9IUQZ0/S220/chelle+profile.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C04MQHs9eCp7ImA9WxZWFUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499031018121427524.post-7714613767609512511</id><published>2008-03-14T11:18:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-14T11:26:21.560-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-03-14T11:26:21.560-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="self-esteem" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="voices" /><title>Issue #4: The Voices</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I hear voices all the time.  Some tell me good things and some strive to lower my self-esteem and self confidence.  It's sometimes hard for me to figure out which one I should be listening to and I'll think to myself, "Okay, was that me, the Holy Spirit, Satan, or just another psychotic episode?"  Don't worry.  I'm kidding about the psychotic episode... of course there IS schizophrenia on my Dad's side of the family (one of his cousins) and on my Mom's side of the family... well, they're ALL just plain looney toons.  Thankfully I escaped all of that.  &lt;em&gt;(I just said that in a sarcastic voice because I really didn't escape it at all.)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, back to the voices.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My head is so full of different thoughts all the time.  I constantly pray for discernment.  And I've found that if I truly open myself up and really listen, then the "Voice Of Truth" will drown out all that other junk going on in my head.  When I'm feeling overwhelmed with thoughts, I just take a deep breath and say, "Okay, Jesus.  What do YOU want me to hear?"  And usually, it becomes clear.  Do I always follow His instructions?  NO.  But that's a blog for another time... probably about disobedience or being self serving or something to that effect.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, the reason I felt compelled to talk about the voices is that the first song I heard this morning was "Voice Of Truth" by Casting Crowns.  The Holy Spirit has spoken to me several times through music because He knows that's the best way to get me to listen.  In fact, I've heard that song many times and love it, but today it really spoke to my heart and I knew I was meant to tell you all about it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the chorus: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But the voice of truth tells me a different story&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The voice of truth says, "Do not be afraid!"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The voice of truth says, "This is for My glory"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Out of all the voices calling out to me&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I will choose to listen and believe the voice of truth&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you'd like to view the whole thing, here's the link:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://tinyurl.com/3ag2jt"&gt;http://tinyurl.com/3ag2jt&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2499031018121427524-7714613767609512511?l=chellesissues.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ChellesIssues/~4/kZeMC8eWpr0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/feeds/7714613767609512511/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2499031018121427524&amp;postID=7714613767609512511" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/7714613767609512511?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/7714613767609512511?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/2008/03/issue-4-voices.html" title="Issue #4: The Voices" /><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04245274450975207704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9BiVvV5QOs/S65DASLYmEI/AAAAAAAAACM/dtyoD9IUQZ0/S220/chelle+profile.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ak4MQH8-eCp7ImA9WxZWFU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499031018121427524.post-1364212153317058482</id><published>2008-03-11T14:25:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-14T10:36:21.150-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-03-14T10:36:21.150-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="self-esteem" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="introversion" /><title>Issue #3: Self Esteem</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I hate my hair. It gets on my nerves. Sometimes I have no self control and I end up cutting it myself and then have to call someone to fix what I did to it. Today I was able to keep myself away from the scissors. My usual hair stylist, who I've gone to since the age of 13, is so popular that it takes 2 months to book an appointment. Once I start having a bad hair meltdown, I don't want to wait 2 months... I want it done NOW! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;So, that's what happened today. I wanted it fixed&lt;em&gt; right now&lt;/em&gt;. I put a headband on and drove to the salon at WalMart. I don't really like to go there just because there is so much employee turnover there, I don't get to know anyone and figure out who is good and who shouldn't have graduated from cosmotology school. Getting my hair done there is usually done on a whim, in desperation.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I walked in and as luck would have it, I didn't have to wait. The girl that greeted me (we'll call her "Jane" because I didn't catch her real name, and even if I did, I wouldn't disclose it here) seemed nice enough, except that after the greeting there was an awkward silence that lasted almost the entire time I was there. Being the self conscious person that I am, I was a little intimidated at first because I thought maybe she wasn't talking to me because she thought I was a loser with bad hair (which I was). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;After washing my hair, she led me to her station so she could cut my hair and asked me how I wanted it cut. This was the second time she spoke to me the whole time I was there. I told her I just wanted to take off a couple of inches... enough to make it shorter but still put into a ponytail if I wanted to. Simple enough, I think. So, she starts cutting my hair and again we're in total silence. Part of me wanted to start talking about &lt;em&gt;something&lt;/em&gt;, but then the other part of me thought, "If she's new, she might really need to concentrate." So I just kept my mouth shut. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;When she was done, she handed me a mirror and asked if it was short enough. I couldn't really tell a difference, to be honest, but at this point I was starting to realize that "Jane" wasn't rude or thinking I was a loser. She was &lt;em&gt;shy&lt;/em&gt; and lacking &lt;em&gt;a lot&lt;/em&gt; of self confidence. I started to take pity on her because I know how that feels. So I said, "It looks great!" She dried my hair and then asked me again if it looked okay and I told her again that I thought it was great. Right after drying your hair, the stylist usually &lt;em&gt;styles&lt;/em&gt; your hair... right? Not "Jane". She was ready to get me out of there... so I asked her if she would mind curling the front a little since I still had to do some shopping afterward. She got a confused look on her face and got out her curling iron but then stopped and actually tried to hand it to me and said I could curl it myself if I wanted to. I think I stared at her for 10 seconds before I was actually able to say anything. Normally, this would have completely ticked me off but she looked like a scared rabbit, so what I said was, "Silly me... I forgot I brought this headband! I'll just put it on and it'll be fine!" I paid the full price for a "cut and style" and gave her a 20% tip. My hair didn't really look much different than it did when I went in.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;This will sound really twisted, but it was actually refreshing to meet someone who is more introverted and less self confident than me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2499031018121427524-1364212153317058482?l=chellesissues.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ChellesIssues/~4/D42r77ZiQeM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/feeds/1364212153317058482/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2499031018121427524&amp;postID=1364212153317058482" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/1364212153317058482?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/1364212153317058482?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/2008/03/issue-3.html" title="Issue #3: Self Esteem" /><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04245274450975207704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9BiVvV5QOs/S65DASLYmEI/AAAAAAAAACM/dtyoD9IUQZ0/S220/chelle+profile.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0cCSH44eyp7ImA9WxZWFU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499031018121427524.post-7681901078389704279</id><published>2008-03-08T20:19:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-14T10:37:49.033-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-03-14T10:37:49.033-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="ocd" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="jamie" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dogs" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="pets" /><title>Issue #2: OCD</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="justify"&gt;This isn't so much MY issue, but it's an issue all the same. My neurosis must have rubbed off on my dog, Jamie. Jamie is my oldest dog. She is a black lab mix. She's a little overweight... that's my fault. Back when I had my knee surgery and was laid up for weeks, she and I would lay on the couch together and eat oatmeal cream pies. It did a lot of damage to both of us. But that's not the issue. The issue is this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jamie has this facination with our carpet. I don't know why. But she licks it so much that she gets hairballs. If you have a cat, you no doubt have seen a hairball before. It's gross. Now, think about that hairball being 5 times bigger. It's 5 times more gross. On top of that, she is wearing holes in the carpets thoughout the house. That's a problem. It has been happening more frequently so I called the vet to see if he had any bright ideas. His diagnosis: OCD. My dog has Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. That is an issue. She has just started on some medication that will hopefully stop this behavior. If it doesn't work after 30 days, then we just stop the meds and invest in hardwood flooring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yep. Issues.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2499031018121427524-7681901078389704279?l=chellesissues.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ChellesIssues/~4/EIwc-OyOGxw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/feeds/7681901078389704279/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2499031018121427524&amp;postID=7681901078389704279" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/7681901078389704279?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2499031018121427524/posts/default/7681901078389704279?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://chellesissues.blogspot.com/2008/03/issue-2.html" title="Issue #2: OCD" /><author><name>Chelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04245274450975207704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k9BiVvV5QOs/S65DASLYmEI/AAAAAAAAACM/dtyoD9IUQZ0/S220/chelle+profile.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>

