<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978457460165381529</id><updated>2010-06-15T13:42:42.358-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Creating Ms. Perfect</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>Kimberly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04386897477627596334</uri><email>kimberly.palmer@gmail.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>253</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978457460165381529.post-7539658752803819435</id><published>2008-05-14T19:13:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-14T19:19:19.828-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blogging'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='marriage'/><title type='text'>Taking a break</title><content type='html'>My mom convinced me that I need to give some sort of explanation for my lack of blogging! I have been taking a break, mostly because my job, as I have mentioned, has taken over my life, and I had to cut some things back (like blogging). So that is why I have not been around as much as usual.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I did get an email today (from my husband, actually) that I had to share. Check out this "&lt;a href="http://www.apa.org/monitor/2008/05/marriage.html"&gt;Marital Rating Scale&lt;/a&gt;" from the 1930s. It supposedly gives couples feedback on whether or not they are being a good spouse. Wives get demerits if they: don't come to bed until their husband is almost asleep, wear red nail polish, fails to sew buttons regularly, or put cold feet on their husbands at night to warm them. That last one is what earned me my demerit. But how else are they supposed to get warm?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7978457460165381529-7539658752803819435?l=creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/feeds/7539658752803819435/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7978457460165381529&amp;postID=7539658752803819435' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/7539658752803819435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/7539658752803819435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/2008/05/taking-break.html' title='Taking a break'/><author><name>Kimberly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04386897477627596334</uri><email>kimberly.palmer@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='01561853327451722425'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978457460165381529.post-4961935148343965255</id><published>2008-04-27T16:25:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-27T16:29:04.589-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='relaxation'/><title type='text'>Accessorizing relaxation</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_egOvKWkQqsE/SBTiCZEB_8I/AAAAAAAAANY/KK9ybmP3Y-k/s1600-h/images.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_egOvKWkQqsE/SBTiCZEB_8I/AAAAAAAAANY/KK9ybmP3Y-k/s400/images.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194024800980434882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On my way home from work Friday, I was struck by all the different ways people were accessorizing their relaxation: A man in a business suit sucked on a cigar while driving his silver Mercedes; couples walked dogs in old jeans; groups of women slipped into Georgetown restaurants for happy hour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My personal accessories include a martini glass, linen pants (so comfortable), and a shower. What are yours?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7978457460165381529-4961935148343965255?l=creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/feeds/4961935148343965255/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7978457460165381529&amp;postID=4961935148343965255' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/4961935148343965255'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/4961935148343965255'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/2008/04/accessorizing-relaxation.html' title='Accessorizing relaxation'/><author><name>Kimberly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04386897477627596334</uri><email>kimberly.palmer@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='01561853327451722425'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_egOvKWkQqsE/SBTiCZEB_8I/AAAAAAAAANY/KK9ybmP3Y-k/s72-c/images.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978457460165381529.post-351869742277143983</id><published>2008-04-22T19:36:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-22T19:45:33.098-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stress'/><title type='text'>To drink or not to drink</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_egOvKWkQqsE/SA53UZEB_7I/AAAAAAAAANQ/O6GpCsmJgJo/s1600-h/images.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_egOvKWkQqsE/SA53UZEB_7I/AAAAAAAAANQ/O6GpCsmJgJo/s400/images.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192218612613644210" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today's paper held a disturbing story about alcohol intake:&lt;a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/04/18/AR2008041802823.html"&gt; For Women, the Wineglass is Half Full&lt;/a&gt;. For someone like me, who loves a glass (or sometimes two) of wine at night, the article suggests that such habits might increase the risk of breast cancer by 10 to 40 percent. That's enough to make me substitute my pinot grigio with club soda tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It also raises the larger question of dealing with risk. There's been so much talk about the &lt;a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/04/18/AR2008041802836.html"&gt;danger of plastics&lt;/a&gt;. How is it even possible to deal with this problem? I bring my lunch to work almost very day in a (plastic) tupperware container. On my way out the door this morning, I was frantically trying to compare the number on the bottom of my container to the chart in the paper that shows which number correlates with which type of plastic. I'm pretty sure mine was on the "do not use" list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now I really need a glass of wine to deal with the stress of all that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7978457460165381529-351869742277143983?l=creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/feeds/351869742277143983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7978457460165381529&amp;postID=351869742277143983' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/351869742277143983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/351869742277143983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/2008/04/to-drink-or-not-to-drink.html' title='To drink or not to drink'/><author><name>Kimberly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04386897477627596334</uri><email>kimberly.palmer@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='01561853327451722425'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_egOvKWkQqsE/SA53UZEB_7I/AAAAAAAAANQ/O6GpCsmJgJo/s72-c/images.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978457460165381529.post-7871001351412883533</id><published>2008-04-15T22:13:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-21T10:47:14.479-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Yikes</title><content type='html'>I can't believe I haven't blogged in almost a week! The problem is, my life has been taken over by my actual job...leaving me less time to share the details of my latest cooking, marital, and bathing adventures. Luckily, these ladies have been making great posts lately:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.24-7mommy.blogspot.com/"&gt;24-7 Mommy&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://trishryanonline.blogspot.com/"&gt;Trish's Dishes&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://everydayyogini.com/"&gt;Everyday Yogini&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.yogamad.blogspot.com/"&gt;Just Breathe&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;And my friend Kate wrote an amazing &lt;a href="http://pokedandprodded.health.com/poked_prodded/katerope.html"&gt;series of articles&lt;/a&gt; on the challenges of a difficult pregnancy (it has a very happy ending).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7978457460165381529-7871001351412883533?l=creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/feeds/7871001351412883533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7978457460165381529&amp;postID=7871001351412883533' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/7871001351412883533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/7871001351412883533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/2008/04/yikes.html' title='Yikes'/><author><name>Kimberly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04386897477627596334</uri><email>kimberly.palmer@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='01561853327451722425'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978457460165381529.post-1886910534539338175</id><published>2008-04-09T22:37:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-09T22:38:05.191-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parents'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='relaxation'/><title type='text'>Hmm</title><content type='html'>My mom is wondering if perhaps I was deprived of baths when I was little. Hmm. Does it seem like I've overly obsessed?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7978457460165381529-1886910534539338175?l=creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/feeds/1886910534539338175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7978457460165381529&amp;postID=1886910534539338175' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/1886910534539338175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/1886910534539338175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/2008/04/hmm.html' title='Hmm'/><author><name>Kimberly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04386897477627596334</uri><email>kimberly.palmer@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='01561853327451722425'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978457460165381529.post-83434065658116257</id><published>2008-04-08T21:31:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-08T21:35:05.321-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='relaxation'/><title type='text'>Bath bliss</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_egOvKWkQqsE/R_wcsKUweiI/AAAAAAAAANI/aJaCH1fPYWM/s1600-h/P1010030.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_egOvKWkQqsE/R_wcsKUweiI/AAAAAAAAANI/aJaCH1fPYWM/s400/P1010030.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187052415835208226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This purchase has significantly improved my life, so I must share... my husband bought this "bath pillow" as a surprise over the weekend while we were at Bed, Bath &amp;amp; Beyond, and it's pleasures are difficult to overstate -- it basically feels like a gentle neck massage in the tub.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7978457460165381529-83434065658116257?l=creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/feeds/83434065658116257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7978457460165381529&amp;postID=83434065658116257' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/83434065658116257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/83434065658116257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/2008/04/bath-bliss.html' title='Bath bliss'/><author><name>Kimberly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04386897477627596334</uri><email>kimberly.palmer@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='01561853327451722425'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_egOvKWkQqsE/R_wcsKUweiI/AAAAAAAAANI/aJaCH1fPYWM/s72-c/P1010030.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978457460165381529.post-1980806190446602091</id><published>2008-04-07T21:18:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-07T21:24:01.672-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='manners'/><title type='text'>It's never as bad as you think</title><content type='html'>For some reason, today has been a day to obsess about mistakes that I've made. Everything from social interactions to getting unnecessarily frantic at times. For example, today, I thought I completely messed up a tv appearance. The ear piece wouldn't stay in my ear, which made me feel unsettled, which made me think I totally messed up the whole thing. And while I was walking home, obsessing about that disaster, I ran into an old college classmate and was convinced I had failed to have an un-awkward conversation. But in both cases, it was fine. Or it doesn't really matter anyway. But even if it did, it was fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank goodness it's &lt;a href="http://thesandb.blogspot.com/2007/02/why-am-i-so-awkward.html"&gt;not &lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/94507708@N00/66381618/"&gt;just &lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20080205191147AAFQjAF"&gt;me&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7978457460165381529-1980806190446602091?l=creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/feeds/1980806190446602091/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7978457460165381529&amp;postID=1980806190446602091' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/1980806190446602091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/1980806190446602091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/2008/04/its-never-as-bad-as-you-think.html' title='It&apos;s never as bad as you think'/><author><name>Kimberly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04386897477627596334</uri><email>kimberly.palmer@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='01561853327451722425'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978457460165381529.post-6678729340781099222</id><published>2008-04-04T19:04:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-04T19:07:29.695-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Bribes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_egOvKWkQqsE/R_a0p6UwehI/AAAAAAAAANA/hYi5ZvJkEeY/s1600-h/images.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_egOvKWkQqsE/R_a0p6UwehI/AAAAAAAAANA/hYi5ZvJkEeY/s400/images.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5185530653087660562" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband sent me an IM today, asking if I would go shopping with him this weekend in Georgetown. "I'll buy you a latte," he added.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love that he knows he needs to bribe me. (I hate shopping.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7978457460165381529-6678729340781099222?l=creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/feeds/6678729340781099222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7978457460165381529&amp;postID=6678729340781099222' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/6678729340781099222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/6678729340781099222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/2008/04/bribes.html' title='Bribes'/><author><name>Kimberly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04386897477627596334</uri><email>kimberly.palmer@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='01561853327451722425'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_egOvKWkQqsE/R_a0p6UwehI/AAAAAAAAANA/hYi5ZvJkEeY/s72-c/images.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978457460165381529.post-6547827695867654054</id><published>2008-04-03T21:41:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-03T21:56:02.107-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='motherhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='manners'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='television'/><title type='text'>Rude?</title><content type='html'>As I was walking quickly back to work from an errand today, a man with a clipboard in his hand caught my eye. "Do you care about the environment?" he asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt rude -- to him and to the environment -- saying "no," but I certainly didn't feel like stopping to chat or signing up for whatever was on his clipboard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I looked at him and said, while still walking, "I can't talk right now, but thanks." Thanks for what, I'm not quite sure -- thanks for caring about the environment yourself, thanks for asking if I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He looked disappointed. It made me feel really bad for not talking to him. But this happens every day, sometimes twice a day, and I don't want to talk to everyone. So am I an awful person? Incredibly rude? Callous to the social problems these clipboarded-people are promoting? Or is it okay that on my one 10-minute outdoor break of the day, I don't feel like talking to strangers?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------&lt;br /&gt;On a more positive note, check out what &lt;a href="http://24-7mommy.blogspot.com/2008/03/strong-women-and-mothers.html"&gt;my friend Christine wrot&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://24-7mommy.blogspot.com/2008/03/strong-women-and-mothers.html"&gt;e&lt;/a&gt; about the John Adams HBO saga -- it caused her to question whether she, too, could be as strong and supportive as Abigail Adams was for her family. (Her husband says she could.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7978457460165381529-6547827695867654054?l=creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/feeds/6547827695867654054/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7978457460165381529&amp;postID=6547827695867654054' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/6547827695867654054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/6547827695867654054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/2008/04/rude.html' title='Rude?'/><author><name>Kimberly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04386897477627596334</uri><email>kimberly.palmer@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='01561853327451722425'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978457460165381529.post-4850774409970241043</id><published>2008-04-02T20:52:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-02T21:00:32.873-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Cooking from memory</title><content type='html'>Recently, my dad mentioned that he still remembers the poached fish my grandmother used to cook for him. He describes it like it was the most amazing thing he has ever eaten. He doesn't remember the exact recipe, but knows that it involves heated milk, white fish, and seasonings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight, I tried to recreate it. And it might be the most delicious thing I've ever had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With guidance from a Washington Post &lt;a href="http://projects.washingtonpost.com/recipes/2008/03/12/spice-flavored-poached-cod/"&gt;recipe&lt;/a&gt;, I bought tilapia (a very affordable white fish). Because I didn't want to use up eight cups of wine, I mixed about two cups each of chicken broth and milk. Then, I added a couple bay leaves plus lots of salt and pepper, and -- this is the surprise ingredient -- a cinnamon stick. I boiled the whole mixture, which started creating lovely smells. (Meanwhile, I brushed asparagus with olive oil, salt, and pepper to roast in the oven as a side dish.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once it boiled, I added the fish, then turned the heat off (but kept the top on) and let it sit and cook for 20 minutes. At that point, the fish was cooked and perfectly flaky. Not only did it smell amazing, but it was the softest fish I've ever had, much flakier and more moist then frying or baking it, at least in my experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I so wish I could ask my grandmother for her exact recipe, but I feel pretty good about the results, and can't wait to make it for my dad, to see how it measures up against his memory.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7978457460165381529-4850774409970241043?l=creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/feeds/4850774409970241043/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7978457460165381529&amp;postID=4850774409970241043' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/4850774409970241043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/4850774409970241043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/2008/04/recently-my-dad-mentioned-that-he-still.html' title='Cooking from memory'/><author><name>Kimberly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04386897477627596334</uri><email>kimberly.palmer@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='01561853327451722425'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978457460165381529.post-5698120742733841501</id><published>2008-04-01T22:59:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-01T23:06:04.822-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='self-care'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='relaxation'/><title type='text'>Indulgent evenings</title><content type='html'>After a very busy and stressful March, I have resolved to take better care of myself in April. Tonight it got off to an excellent start. After a massage (a rare treat), I decided to do only  things that I enjoy for the rest of the night. I had a glass of wine as I made one of my favorite dinners, pasta with sautéed mushrooms and crushed red pepper flakes, watched a chick flick (&lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0332047/"&gt;Fever Pitch&lt;/a&gt;), and took a bath. I even ate ice cream while doing the dishes to ease the pain of that chore. It was great -- something to practice more often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This &lt;a href="http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/2008/03/recovery.html"&gt;weekend&lt;/a&gt;, one of my talks with my girlfriends involved the issue of doing what makes you happy versus doing what you feel like you should do. It made me think, why not try, whenever possible, do do what you really want? Usually the "shoulds" don't matter as much as we think they do. That was part of the inspiration for tonight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7978457460165381529-5698120742733841501?l=creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/feeds/5698120742733841501/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7978457460165381529&amp;postID=5698120742733841501' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/5698120742733841501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/5698120742733841501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/2008/04/indulgent-evenings.html' title='Indulgent evenings'/><author><name>Kimberly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04386897477627596334</uri><email>kimberly.palmer@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='01561853327451722425'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978457460165381529.post-106062685371039883</id><published>2008-03-31T19:54:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-31T19:59:54.036-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Runners' highs</title><content type='html'>Whoever is in charge of marketing for the &lt;a href="http://www.armytenmiler.com/"&gt;Army Ten-Miler &lt;/a&gt;really knows how to inspire a girl. I was having the kind of day where I couldn't wait to come home and take a bath (the rain always does that to me), and then I opened my mailbox to find a postcard advertising this year's race.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it wasn't just an informational postcard about how to sign up. It had my PHOTO from the 2006 race on the front. I'm in the new running outfit I bought just for the event and, if I do say so myself, look like I'm chugging along without too much trouble. (Of course, that's probably because I was going at a leisurely 10-minute mile pace.) Across the top, the card says, "Kimberly, you ran ARMY STRONG in 2006 -- Challenge yourself again in 2008!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I might have accept that challenge.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7978457460165381529-106062685371039883?l=creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/feeds/106062685371039883/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7978457460165381529&amp;postID=106062685371039883' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/106062685371039883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/106062685371039883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/2008/03/runners-highs.html' title='Runners&apos; highs'/><author><name>Kimberly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04386897477627596334</uri><email>kimberly.palmer@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='01561853327451722425'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978457460165381529.post-7178192875300294707</id><published>2008-03-30T19:14:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-30T19:29:59.879-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><title type='text'>Recovery</title><content type='html'>Well, the title "recovery" is probably phrasing it a bit too strongly, but two days with a 15-month-old was exhausting! The reunion was great -- all of your tips helped so much -- but the scheduling definitely had to be geared around the baby. We ate dinner at 5pm! But thank goodness because I was ready for bed at 10pm after playing with him all day. When we were all college roommates, the evening would have been just getting started.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of our deep talks happened during down times -- when we could just hang around one of our apartments after breakfast. Then the grown ups could talk with the baby ran around (within reach).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I seriously do not know how moms have the energy to do this. Two days and I'm barely functioning, and I wasn't even responsible for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luckily, one of my friend's brought &lt;a href="http://mommystimeout.net/index.html"&gt;Mommy's Time Out&lt;/a&gt; wine. I could use a glass of aunty's time out right now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7978457460165381529-7178192875300294707?l=creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/feeds/7178192875300294707/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7978457460165381529&amp;postID=7178192875300294707' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/7178192875300294707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/7178192875300294707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/2008/03/recovery.html' title='Recovery'/><author><name>Kimberly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04386897477627596334</uri><email>kimberly.palmer@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='01561853327451722425'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978457460165381529.post-679648250669571815</id><published>2008-03-26T19:58:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-26T20:02:21.592-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='travel'/><title type='text'>New York coffee</title><content type='html'>It seems like each time I go to New York, some new trend has swept the city, and it's usually on its way down to DC. A few summers ago it was those Chinese slipper shoes. Last year it was scooped bagels -- thank goodness that never caught on. It seems kind of gross to me to have someone else digging through your bagel with their finger (they usually wear gloves, but still), and plus that doughy part is the tastiest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this morning I was intrigued when, right before I boarded my train at Penn Station, I ordered a latte, and the question wasn't just "what size," but "strong or mild?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Has anyone ever been asked this before? Unlike the scooped trend, I love this one. I don't like strong coffee, but I love mild. So I specified, and it tasted great. Yay for crazy New York trends.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7978457460165381529-679648250669571815?l=creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/feeds/679648250669571815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7978457460165381529&amp;postID=679648250669571815' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/679648250669571815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/679648250669571815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/2008/03/new-york-coffee.html' title='New York coffee'/><author><name>Kimberly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04386897477627596334</uri><email>kimberly.palmer@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='01561853327451722425'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978457460165381529.post-3946006401459635968</id><published>2008-03-24T22:50:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-24T22:56:15.488-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='books'/><title type='text'>Material girls</title><content type='html'>The best part of Slavenka Draculic's book, &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/How-Survived-Communism-Even-Laughed/dp/B000GH2YU6/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;s=books&amp;amp;qid=1205526002&amp;amp;sr=8-1"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;How We Survived Communism and Even Laughed,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; is the way it shows that material culture -- what you can buy -- is so integral to life. For example, under communism in Eastern Europe, at various times you could not buy much food other than onion and garlic, any sort of fashionable clothing, a washing machine or kitchen tools like toasters, or even feminine hygiene products. It might seem superficial -- who cares about clothes, people were dying -- but Draculic shows that people's inability to buy these things affected the very core of who they were and what kind of lives they could live.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reading it has made me a little  more concious of what I take for granted, from cereal in the morning to a bath at night. And it resonated with something Abigail Adams said (well, at least she said it on the HBO miniseries last week): Food is politics. When I go to the cupboard and there's no coffee, no bread, that is politics. (I'm paraphrasing.) More thoughts on Abigail Adams will be coming soon!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7978457460165381529-3946006401459635968?l=creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/feeds/3946006401459635968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7978457460165381529&amp;postID=3946006401459635968' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/3946006401459635968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/3946006401459635968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/2008/03/material-girls.html' title='Material girls'/><author><name>Kimberly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04386897477627596334</uri><email>kimberly.palmer@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='01561853327451722425'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978457460165381529.post-3841609765239909137</id><published>2008-03-23T11:43:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-23T11:49:24.771-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><title type='text'>Girls' Weekend Planning</title><content type='html'>My four best friends from college (plus a baby!) are visiting next weekend, which is very exciting... I don't think we've all seen each other at once since we graduated. Because I'm the host, I've been planning, inspired partly by two books, Girls' Night In by &lt;a href="http://jenniferworick.blogspot.com/"&gt;Jennifer Worick&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Secret-Language-Girlfriends-Important-Friendships/dp/1401301630"&gt;The Secret Language of Girlfriends &lt;/a&gt;by Karen Neuburger. I've stocked up on cosmo ingredients and chick flicks. And I realize that this all sounds completely stereotypical, but I also think (hope) it will work... anyone else ever host a girls' weekends who can offer tips?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thing I am most worried about is the baby situation. I have no idea what a one and a half year old can do -- can it go to a museum? to dinner? stay up past 8? So I'm just kind of hoping it will work out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7978457460165381529-3841609765239909137?l=creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/feeds/3841609765239909137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7978457460165381529&amp;postID=3841609765239909137' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/3841609765239909137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/3841609765239909137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/2008/03/girls-weekend-planning.html' title='Girls&apos; Weekend Planning'/><author><name>Kimberly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04386897477627596334</uri><email>kimberly.palmer@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='01561853327451722425'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978457460165381529.post-1151845435031220262</id><published>2008-03-19T19:38:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T19:40:08.421-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='self-care'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='relaxation'/><title type='text'>Bathing bliss</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_egOvKWkQqsE/R-GkQaUwegI/AAAAAAAAAM4/oEQbKJYsoOU/s1600-h/Florida+004.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_egOvKWkQqsE/R-GkQaUwegI/AAAAAAAAAM4/oEQbKJYsoOU/s400/Florida+004.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5179601648304028162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Courtesy of a Lush bath bomb... the woman at the store promised it would make me feel like a mermaid. And that's seaweed floating around.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7978457460165381529-1151845435031220262?l=creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/feeds/1151845435031220262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7978457460165381529&amp;postID=1151845435031220262' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/1151845435031220262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/1151845435031220262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/2008/03/bathing-bliss.html' title='Bathing bliss'/><author><name>Kimberly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04386897477627596334</uri><email>kimberly.palmer@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='01561853327451722425'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_egOvKWkQqsE/R-GkQaUwegI/AAAAAAAAAM4/oEQbKJYsoOU/s72-c/Florida+004.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978457460165381529.post-6884692988843921942</id><published>2008-03-19T15:39:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T15:41:47.569-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='home'/><title type='text'>Coming home</title><content type='html'>I am back from my vacation - I have heard some women talk about how the first thing they do when returning from a trip is organizing their closets, or baking. For me, I need to take a bath and use my own bath products. That really makes me feel at home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have so many things I want to blog about after the time with my grandmother but first I need to do the second thing that I love doing when I get home, which is getting organized and deleting hundreds of spam-like emails... so I'll post more soon!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7978457460165381529-6884692988843921942?l=creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/feeds/6884692988843921942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7978457460165381529&amp;postID=6884692988843921942' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/6884692988843921942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/6884692988843921942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/2008/03/coming-home.html' title='Coming home'/><author><name>Kimberly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04386897477627596334</uri><email>kimberly.palmer@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='01561853327451722425'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978457460165381529.post-3472493469050446697</id><published>2008-03-14T16:18:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-14T16:23:19.886-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stress'/><title type='text'>Memoir cravings</title><content type='html'>After talking with a friend who grew up in a communist country until age 9 or so at a dinner party, I had a deep craving to read a memoir of a woman who experienced communism, who could write about it in terms of what every day life was like. I was a little doubtful I could find such a specific thing, but I tried, using google. I typed in words like "memoir," "woman," and "communism."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, guess what. I found the perfect book. I can hardly believe it. It's called &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/How-Survived-Communism-Even-Laughed/dp/B000GH2YU6/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;s=books&amp;amp;qid=1205526002&amp;amp;sr=8-1"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;How We Survived Communism and Even Laughed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, by Slavenka Draculic. I'm only a few pages in but already so into it. I also got MFK Fisher's &lt;a href="https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_ss_/102-6684168-4610504?url=search-alias%3Daps&amp;amp;field-keywords=An+Alphabet+for+Gourmets&amp;amp;x=15&amp;amp;y=18"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;An Alphabet for Gourmets&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, which I can't wait to read... and I'll be reading both while sitting by the pool in Florida with my grandmother, mom and sister for the next few days! Thanks for all your emails and comments of support while I've been stressing out lately!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7978457460165381529-3472493469050446697?l=creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/feeds/3472493469050446697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7978457460165381529&amp;postID=3472493469050446697' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/3472493469050446697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/3472493469050446697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/2008/03/memoir-cravings.html' title='Memoir cravings'/><author><name>Kimberly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04386897477627596334</uri><email>kimberly.palmer@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='01561853327451722425'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978457460165381529.post-684682643398194829</id><published>2008-03-12T20:37:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-12T20:39:29.045-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stress'/><title type='text'>On the edge</title><content type='html'>I sort of felt like I was on the edge of losing it all day. I had so much to do and was rushing from one thing to the next, adrenaline going all day long... I like days like that every once in awhile, but not everyday, and it's been everyday lately. But you know what brought me back to the "moment?" Suddenly I felt like I might be getting sick. And then I became extremely aware of my health (mental and physical) being the most important thing. So I slowed down, and immediately felt much better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7978457460165381529-684682643398194829?l=creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/feeds/684682643398194829/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7978457460165381529&amp;postID=684682643398194829' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/684682643398194829'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/684682643398194829'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/2008/03/on-edge.html' title='On the edge'/><author><name>Kimberly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04386897477627596334</uri><email>kimberly.palmer@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='01561853327451722425'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978457460165381529.post-870058771914979654</id><published>2008-03-11T22:45:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-11T22:51:22.841-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='writing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Food writing</title><content type='html'>Partly at the suggestion of so many books that suggest this, I signed up for something outside of what I normally do -- a course in food writing. (Okay, I guess it is related to my journalism career, but still, totally separate subject matter.) &lt;a href="http://www.mediabistro.com/"&gt;Mediabistro &lt;/a&gt;was offering a class so it seemed like a great chance to experiment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The class was for three hours, 6:30 to 9:30, which was pretty rough after a full day of work, but worth it -- the teacher was great and also it was so interesting to hear what all the other attendees were up to, including starting online food magazines and entering the field of "culinary publishing."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do have one food-related story idea I'd like to pitch to places, but I left realizing I have no interest in being a full-time food writer. It's just not my passion. But sometimes I do get food-related ideas that aren't necessarily "food" stories, but rather business or culture stories related to food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus, I came home and immediately ate my favorite comfort foods -- an english muffin with peanut butter and eggo waffles. How could someone who loves such things be a food writer??&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7978457460165381529-870058771914979654?l=creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/feeds/870058771914979654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7978457460165381529&amp;postID=870058771914979654' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/870058771914979654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/870058771914979654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/2008/03/food-writing.html' title='Food writing'/><author><name>Kimberly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04386897477627596334</uri><email>kimberly.palmer@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='01561853327451722425'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978457460165381529.post-3124064959993305759</id><published>2008-03-10T22:24:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-10T22:31:26.991-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='working women'/><title type='text'>Saying no</title><content type='html'>I have been getting much better at saying no. It really feels pretty good, once I get over the initial feeling of feeling bad or guilty. For example, I often get calls from pr reps or marketers who want to pitch me their client in the hopes I write about them. Even worse is when marketing firms call just to ask if they can get my feedback or thoughts on products. I used to get so annoyed when they went on and on and really I had so much else I should have been doing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally I have gotten the hang of interrupting them and saying, Sorry, I don't have time for this. And can they call back later? No, sorry, I just don't have time for this sort of thing. Bye. I really don't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It does feel pretty good, standing up for my time. My dad recommends making appointments for yourself, just to make sure you're protecting your time. So if someone asks you to meet at 8am, you can say, no, I have an appointment then. No need to mention it's just with yourself. Is that lying though? It's a pretty attractive strategy. Although often it's enough just to say, no, I can't, without giving a specific reason.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to have a lot of early morning phone calls. (Well, early for me, which means 9am.) But I prefer to ease into my days, and have quiet time to myself until around 10 or 10:30. So now I usually say I'm available after 10:30. So far, it hasn't been a problem.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7978457460165381529-3124064959993305759?l=creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/feeds/3124064959993305759/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7978457460165381529&amp;postID=3124064959993305759' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/3124064959993305759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/3124064959993305759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/2008/03/saying-no.html' title='Saying no'/><author><name>Kimberly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04386897477627596334</uri><email>kimberly.palmer@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='01561853327451722425'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978457460165381529.post-8051013184593984597</id><published>2008-03-09T14:41:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-09T23:53:23.743-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='money'/><title type='text'>Defining rich</title><content type='html'>I just finished reading Lois Frankel's &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Nice-Girls-Dont-Get-Rich/dp/044657709X"&gt;Nice Girls Don't Get Rich&lt;/a&gt;. In it, she asked people to answer the question, "I would be rich today if I had..." When I first read that sentence, I thought it was asking how we defined richness. (It was actually asking about what mistakes you had made that explain why you are not rich today.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So to answer it the first way -- how would you define richness -- what would your answer be?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think for me it would be: I would be rich if I had a house, enough free time to read and write, the ability to travel once or twice a year, and a work space or room of my own. And the house should have a nice kitchen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7978457460165381529-8051013184593984597?l=creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/feeds/8051013184593984597/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7978457460165381529&amp;postID=8051013184593984597' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/8051013184593984597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/8051013184593984597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/2008/03/defining-rich.html' title='Defining rich'/><author><name>Kimberly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04386897477627596334</uri><email>kimberly.palmer@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='01561853327451722425'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978457460165381529.post-5549561894847361603</id><published>2008-03-06T22:34:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-06T22:36:52.972-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='marriage'/><title type='text'>Housework benefits</title><content type='html'>Here's a good motivator: The Boston Globe &lt;a href="http://www.boston.com/news/nation/articles/2008/03/06/report_men_pitching_in_more_with_chores/?p1=Well_MostPop_Emailed1"&gt;reports &lt;/a&gt;that men who do housework also get more lovin'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);"&gt;American men still don't pull their weight when it comes to housework and child care, but collectively they're not the slackers they used to be. The average dad has gradually been getting better about picking himself up off the sofa and pitching in, according to a new report in which a psychologist suggests the payoff for doing more chores could be more sex.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7978457460165381529-5549561894847361603?l=creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/feeds/5549561894847361603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7978457460165381529&amp;postID=5549561894847361603' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/5549561894847361603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/5549561894847361603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/2008/03/housework-benefits.html' title='Housework benefits'/><author><name>Kimberly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04386897477627596334</uri><email>kimberly.palmer@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='01561853327451722425'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978457460165381529.post-7798332058305801215</id><published>2008-03-05T18:56:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T19:02:18.493-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='emotions'/><title type='text'>Accepting Kindness</title><content type='html'>Why is it so hard to accept the kindness of strangers? As I was looking through my wallet for change on the bus this morning, I found I didn't have enough, so I was going to have to pay $2 instead of $1.50, since I just had two bills. A woman next to me noticed, and offered me the 35 cents she had, so I could add it to my 15 cents and make the fare without paying extra.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried to give her a whole dollar any way, but she refused, so I said thank you (a few times). But I kind of felt bad about it. I mean, I felt so grateful to this woman for helping me, and was amazed with how nice a stranger could be, but I desperately wanted to find enough change in my backpack to pay her back before I got off the bus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eventually, after much digging, I found a dime. As we got off the bus and I tried to give it to her, she told me not to worry about it and just smiled and said had a nice day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So nice of her, but I couldn't help feeling bad about it. I guess maybe I felt guilty. Or with a sense that I really don't want to take other people's money and make them worse off. (It was only 35 cents, I know, but still.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7978457460165381529-7798332058305801215?l=creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/feeds/7798332058305801215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7978457460165381529&amp;postID=7798332058305801215' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/7798332058305801215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7978457460165381529/posts/default/7798332058305801215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://creatingmsperfect.blogspot.com/2008/03/accepting-kindness.html' title='Accepting Kindness'/><author><name>Kimberly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04386897477627596334</uri><email>kimberly.palmer@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='01561853327451722425'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>