<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;D0MHRns8fCp7ImA9WhRUGEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4282309607243496009</id><updated>2012-01-29T20:03:57.574-05:00</updated><title>Fugacious Sagacity</title><subtitle type="html">First, about the name, it isn't meant to be pretentious. It's just that "Moments of Genius", was already taken.  Though it is all tongue in cheek, there are times when some insight, however minimal, can be found in the incessant ramblings of an under-worked mind.  So here, in cyberspace where I am invisible, is found the freedom to release the deluge that wracks my brain and fills my world with an over abundance of analysis of mundane thoughts.</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>PrttyBrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10534628760409896860</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/_UORhlX9b4EI/SU5PtfEMtqI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LTX_s-ZYvL0/S220/Britlie%27s+Cloudy+Sky.JPG" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>92</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/FugaciousSagacity" /><feedburner:info uri="fugacioussagacity" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkIAQ3g-fyp7ImA9WhZVGU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4282309607243496009.post-4697007982799936400</id><published>2011-06-01T10:28:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-01T10:29:02.657-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-01T10:29:02.657-04:00</app:edited><title>Oh the moments of joy</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/feeds/4697007982799936400/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4282309607243496009&amp;postID=4697007982799936400&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/4697007982799936400?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/4697007982799936400?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~3/0QZhly8UnJA/okay-so-my-first-grader-comes-home-all.html" title="Oh the moments of joy" /><author><name>PrttyBrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10534628760409896860</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/_UORhlX9b4EI/SU5PtfEMtqI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LTX_s-ZYvL0/S220/Britlie%27s+Cloudy+Sky.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
Okay, so my first grader comes home all happy as usual.  I go through his folder and find a very neatly written list of rules.  As I read them, he proceeds to tell me how everyone in his class had to come up with rules for behavior.  Apparently, the class had been unruly for awhile.  So, the all had to write down the rules that the students came up with.  There were the usual; "raise your hand",
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/GfKp-NEUClZX-zibySDRwFLAUS4/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/GfKp-NEUClZX-zibySDRwFLAUS4/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/GfKp-NEUClZX-zibySDRwFLAUS4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/GfKp-NEUClZX-zibySDRwFLAUS4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~4/0QZhly8UnJA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/2011/06/okay-so-my-first-grader-comes-home-all.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUUCSHc8fSp7ImA9WhZWGUs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4282309607243496009.post-1954178501425140222</id><published>2011-05-21T03:34:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-21T03:34:29.975-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-21T03:34:29.975-04:00</app:edited><title>From the mouth of Babes</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/feeds/1954178501425140222/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4282309607243496009&amp;postID=1954178501425140222&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/1954178501425140222?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/1954178501425140222?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~3/Hex3TyJ0Pzk/from-mouth-of-babes.html" title="From the mouth of Babes" /><author><name>PrttyBrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10534628760409896860</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/_UORhlX9b4EI/SU5PtfEMtqI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LTX_s-ZYvL0/S220/Britlie%27s+Cloudy+Sky.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
Well, between all the drama that has been going on around here, my kids can still make me both laugh and cringe simultaneously.  Apparently, I am that mother with that kid: Okay,
 so my 1st grader comes home with a list of rules for behavior that the 
kids in his class came up with.  Every child had to add a rule to the 
list. His contribution was.......wait for it........"Do not say "ass" to
 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HF2vqKL_oRjOj8Z-FKui3f7umlU/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HF2vqKL_oRjOj8Z-FKui3f7umlU/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HF2vqKL_oRjOj8Z-FKui3f7umlU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HF2vqKL_oRjOj8Z-FKui3f7umlU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~4/Hex3TyJ0Pzk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/2011/05/from-mouth-of-babes.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUcFR3s7eip7ImA9Wx9UGE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4282309607243496009.post-484900400966193670</id><published>2011-02-15T22:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-15T22:30:16.502-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-02-15T22:30:16.502-05:00</app:edited><title>Redemption Revisited</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/feeds/484900400966193670/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4282309607243496009&amp;postID=484900400966193670&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/484900400966193670?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/484900400966193670?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~3/n_XLFEQt398/redemption-revisited.html" title="Redemption Revisited" /><author><name>PrttyBrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10534628760409896860</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/_UORhlX9b4EI/SU5PtfEMtqI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LTX_s-ZYvL0/S220/Britlie%27s+Cloudy+Sky.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">It has been a very long time since I have posted on my little mini-drama.  In that time, I have found a way to become close to and alienated from my little crush.  My crush that took no time to grow into a friendship.  It has become something I cherish, we both do.  All caught up and still drawn together, we have laughed and cried and laughed until we cried.  I would like to think that my little 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/lG2qdaIWlMPLzixQR-Rgrde8h1c/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/lG2qdaIWlMPLzixQR-Rgrde8h1c/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/lG2qdaIWlMPLzixQR-Rgrde8h1c/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/lG2qdaIWlMPLzixQR-Rgrde8h1c/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~4/n_XLFEQt398" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/2011/02/redemption-revisited.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEcDR385eyp7ImA9Wx9UGE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4282309607243496009.post-4131847775139552411</id><published>2011-02-15T22:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-15T22:14:36.123-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-02-15T22:14:36.123-05:00</app:edited><title>I do exist</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/feeds/4131847775139552411/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4282309607243496009&amp;postID=4131847775139552411&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/4131847775139552411?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/4131847775139552411?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~3/8T8CXvUKSLM/i-do-exist.html" title="I do exist" /><author><name>PrttyBrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10534628760409896860</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/_UORhlX9b4EI/SU5PtfEMtqI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LTX_s-ZYvL0/S220/Britlie%27s+Cloudy+Sky.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">It has been a long time since I've posted here.  I apologize for my absence.  Life has a way of swishing you around like a washing machine.  Up, down, and sideways.  I'll try to update, in a series of short posts, the jist of  what's been going on.  Quick update, I've been ill.  In and out of doctor's, hospitals, and nightmares.  All is well.  I am fine and healing and hopefully on my way to a 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/RnAC0iGDNwcs2CgbsH1vogLBiCs/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/RnAC0iGDNwcs2CgbsH1vogLBiCs/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/RnAC0iGDNwcs2CgbsH1vogLBiCs/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/RnAC0iGDNwcs2CgbsH1vogLBiCs/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~4/8T8CXvUKSLM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/2011/02/i-do-exist.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkQNQXgyfSp7ImA9Wx5WEEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4282309607243496009.post-5337215106484210603</id><published>2010-09-20T17:33:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-20T17:33:10.695-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-09-20T17:33:10.695-04:00</app:edited><title>Judging by Their Worst Day</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/feeds/5337215106484210603/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4282309607243496009&amp;postID=5337215106484210603&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/5337215106484210603?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/5337215106484210603?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~3/kOgyCg4sfmk/judging-by-their-worst-day.html" title="Judging by Their Worst Day" /><author><name>PrttyBrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10534628760409896860</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/_UORhlX9b4EI/SU5PtfEMtqI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LTX_s-ZYvL0/S220/Britlie%27s+Cloudy+Sky.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">It started out to be such a good weekend morning.  The oldest spent the night at a friends house.  The five and six year-olds were laughing and playing quietly in their room, and the baby was eating happily in his highchair.  On went the peppy cleaning music and I moved another load of laundry.  Everything was moving along wonderfully, peacefully.  As I entered the boys' room to put their clothes
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/pxtwMddiiiCRdKfgCGhk1uHrVPM/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/pxtwMddiiiCRdKfgCGhk1uHrVPM/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/pxtwMddiiiCRdKfgCGhk1uHrVPM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/pxtwMddiiiCRdKfgCGhk1uHrVPM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~4/kOgyCg4sfmk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/2010/09/judging-by-their-worst-day.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C08AQHk_eip7ImA9Wx5XFkw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4282309607243496009.post-9029357674301397824</id><published>2010-09-16T00:37:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-16T00:37:21.742-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-09-16T00:37:21.742-04:00</app:edited><title>Grasshoppers: Birth of a Phobia</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/feeds/9029357674301397824/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4282309607243496009&amp;postID=9029357674301397824&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/9029357674301397824?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/9029357674301397824?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~3/U06oHlKf4_A/grasshoppers-birth-of-phobia.html" title="Grasshoppers: Birth of a Phobia" /><author><name>PrttyBrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10534628760409896860</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/_UORhlX9b4EI/SU5PtfEMtqI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LTX_s-ZYvL0/S220/Britlie%27s+Cloudy+Sky.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">I have a ridiculous fear of frogs.  It is insane how mortified I get.  As a child I loved them.  I even grew tadpoles and caught babies by the canal.  I was fine until one day I saw a toad that completely filled the dog food bowl.  We had a German Shepard, and he had a very big bowl.  After that, I stopped with the frogs.  It went unnoticed for years.  Until one day, my kid brother saw me stop 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Mvm4vUm07MIrnG7M1TTwfOFYOxI/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Mvm4vUm07MIrnG7M1TTwfOFYOxI/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Mvm4vUm07MIrnG7M1TTwfOFYOxI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Mvm4vUm07MIrnG7M1TTwfOFYOxI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~4/U06oHlKf4_A" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/2010/09/grasshoppers-birth-of-phobia.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Dk8DRHwyeip7ImA9Wx5RGUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4282309607243496009.post-9215832968003600663</id><published>2010-08-28T07:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-28T07:27:55.292-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-08-28T07:27:55.292-04:00</app:edited><title>Insomnia Sucks</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/feeds/9215832968003600663/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4282309607243496009&amp;postID=9215832968003600663&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/9215832968003600663?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/9215832968003600663?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~3/bzntqUvudpY/insomnia-sucks.html" title="Insomnia Sucks" /><author><name>PrttyBrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10534628760409896860</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/_UORhlX9b4EI/SU5PtfEMtqI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LTX_s-ZYvL0/S220/Britlie%27s+Cloudy+Sky.JPG" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><content type="html">Sitting here before dawn by the ethereal glow of cyberspace, I can't help but wonder WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME.  Seriously, I don't sleep.  If there are three solid hours to be had, that is considered success.  The human body was not meant to function  efficiently on such low recuperation time.  Oh, and a severe lack of sleep apparently turns one into a cranky, paranoid beast.
Still, I'm 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ap3M_okA7LqGzMlNk1BEWkHEd58/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ap3M_okA7LqGzMlNk1BEWkHEd58/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ap3M_okA7LqGzMlNk1BEWkHEd58/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ap3M_okA7LqGzMlNk1BEWkHEd58/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~4/bzntqUvudpY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/2010/08/insomnia-sucks.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0IGQXw4fCp7ImA9Wx5RF0k.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4282309607243496009.post-7634429114279231706</id><published>2010-08-25T10:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-25T10:12:00.234-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-08-25T10:12:00.234-04:00</app:edited><title>A Bit of Redemption, Part 2</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/feeds/7634429114279231706/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4282309607243496009&amp;postID=7634429114279231706&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/7634429114279231706?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/7634429114279231706?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~3/ANt3hP0xtas/bit-of-redemption-part-2.html" title="A Bit of Redemption, Part 2" /><author><name>PrttyBrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10534628760409896860</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/_UORhlX9b4EI/SU5PtfEMtqI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LTX_s-ZYvL0/S220/Britlie%27s+Cloudy+Sky.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Where was I?  Oh yes dreading the moment in hopeful anticipation of who the heck knows what.  Okay, enough of this.  Short version:  Early in the chat there was an exchange that went something like this (unfortunately, facebook doesn't archive chats and erases them periodically):
Me:  It's like you would go out of your way to push my buttons and then laugh when I would get annoyed
Him: Really? I 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/n_WpW5K6yS-Fd1fFDZRnlWrr5HQ/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/n_WpW5K6yS-Fd1fFDZRnlWrr5HQ/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/n_WpW5K6yS-Fd1fFDZRnlWrr5HQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/n_WpW5K6yS-Fd1fFDZRnlWrr5HQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~4/ANt3hP0xtas" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/2010/08/bit-of-redemption-part-2.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0ANQn8-fip7ImA9Wx5RF04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4282309607243496009.post-7900012849226497201</id><published>2010-08-25T07:29:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-25T07:29:53.156-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-08-25T07:29:53.156-04:00</app:edited><title>A Bit of Redemption, Part 1</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/feeds/7900012849226497201/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4282309607243496009&amp;postID=7900012849226497201&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/7900012849226497201?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/7900012849226497201?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~3/ZQQfExIDWwg/bit-of-redemption-part-1.html" title="A Bit of Redemption, Part 1" /><author><name>PrttyBrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10534628760409896860</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/_UORhlX9b4EI/SU5PtfEMtqI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LTX_s-ZYvL0/S220/Britlie%27s+Cloudy+Sky.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Hey look, it's a second post in as many days.  See, miracles do happen.  I needed an update of sorts, of neurotic sorts.  In my Facebook email notification hell, there was a ray of sunshine.  Okay, a few.  First, while perusing pictures of my non-friends friends, I came across someone I used to know.  I met this person when I was eleven and we were friends through high school, until the military 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/aOcoSvK58BarIb5RaayMZotQ7Ko/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/aOcoSvK58BarIb5RaayMZotQ7Ko/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/aOcoSvK58BarIb5RaayMZotQ7Ko/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/aOcoSvK58BarIb5RaayMZotQ7Ko/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~4/ZQQfExIDWwg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/2010/08/bit-of-redemption-part-1.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Dk4EQHczeCp7ImA9Wx5RF0w.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4282309607243496009.post-3071267130430961433</id><published>2010-08-24T02:58:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-25T01:41:41.980-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-08-25T01:41:41.980-04:00</app:edited><title>So I caved, Sucka</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/feeds/3071267130430961433/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4282309607243496009&amp;postID=3071267130430961433&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/3071267130430961433?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/3071267130430961433?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~3/05JCmuG8BuE/so-i-caved-sucka.html" title="So I caved, Sucka" /><author><name>PrttyBrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10534628760409896860</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/_UORhlX9b4EI/SU5PtfEMtqI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LTX_s-ZYvL0/S220/Britlie%27s+Cloudy+Sky.JPG" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><content type="html">It has been years since my first invitation to join Facebook.  I have ignored them all.  My email gets a steady influx of requests from my actual friends to join the site.  It is understandable, they want easy access to keep up with things.  Oh how things escalate.  First, after years and years, they finally bully me onto Myspace.  Then, that gets passe'.   So I have a Myspace page that I haven't
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/0kayAfC_KWiVLgPlBdT1KJNUZXM/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/0kayAfC_KWiVLgPlBdT1KJNUZXM/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/0kayAfC_KWiVLgPlBdT1KJNUZXM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/0kayAfC_KWiVLgPlBdT1KJNUZXM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~4/05JCmuG8BuE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/2010/08/so-i-caved-sucka.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkAHQ3s6fCp7ImA9Wx5REk4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4282309607243496009.post-3808478074607807251</id><published>2010-08-19T12:18:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-19T12:18:52.514-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-08-19T12:18:52.514-04:00</app:edited><title>Week One</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/feeds/3808478074607807251/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4282309607243496009&amp;postID=3808478074607807251&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/3808478074607807251?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/3808478074607807251?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~3/2IHVTdkRJmA/week-one.html" title="Week One" /><author><name>PrttyBrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10534628760409896860</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/_UORhlX9b4EI/SU5PtfEMtqI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LTX_s-ZYvL0/S220/Britlie%27s+Cloudy+Sky.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">School has begun.  The supply lists have been completed and the teachers have been met.  Unexpectedly, my pre-k four year old gets to go for the entire day instead of the usual three hours.  Woo Hoo, Woo Hoo, Woo Hoo!  I thought I would be sad to see him go to school like a big boy.  I was sad for the first one, no so much for the second since he had not been home alone and the two always fought 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/thzuW3zy2Z83uRtinTgPR6M_t3Y/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/thzuW3zy2Z83uRtinTgPR6M_t3Y/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/thzuW3zy2Z83uRtinTgPR6M_t3Y/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/thzuW3zy2Z83uRtinTgPR6M_t3Y/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~4/2IHVTdkRJmA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/2010/08/week-one.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUMAR386cSp7ImA9Wx5REk4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4282309607243496009.post-475402059543738180</id><published>2010-08-19T11:57:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-19T11:57:26.119-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-08-19T11:57:26.119-04:00</app:edited><title>Wasted Summer</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/feeds/475402059543738180/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4282309607243496009&amp;postID=475402059543738180&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/475402059543738180?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/475402059543738180?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~3/v0BZggPsPz0/wasted-summer.html" title="Wasted Summer" /><author><name>PrttyBrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10534628760409896860</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/_UORhlX9b4EI/SU5PtfEMtqI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LTX_s-ZYvL0/S220/Britlie%27s+Cloudy+Sky.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">With my son getting the "all-clear" after his surgery and two more away with Gramma, the reality of school starting in less than three weeks has me a bit panicked.  I'm feeling like I did back in High School when August rolled around and I could only reflect on a wasted Summer.  As I look around, I see nothing has gotten done.  Nothing was sorted through or put away, not one thing.  So, I sit 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/tJYCACO81kNHAvnxVfXKQbqrT4I/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/tJYCACO81kNHAvnxVfXKQbqrT4I/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/tJYCACO81kNHAvnxVfXKQbqrT4I/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/tJYCACO81kNHAvnxVfXKQbqrT4I/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~4/v0BZggPsPz0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/2010/08/wasted-summer.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CU8AQHk_eip7ImA9WxFaGEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4282309607243496009.post-8086929717618727513</id><published>2010-07-22T11:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-22T11:50:41.742-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-07-22T11:50:41.742-04:00</app:edited><title>Missing and No Action</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/feeds/8086929717618727513/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4282309607243496009&amp;postID=8086929717618727513&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/8086929717618727513?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/8086929717618727513?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~3/mcAbbd_qcow/missing-and-no-action.html" title="Missing and No Action" /><author><name>PrttyBrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10534628760409896860</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/_UORhlX9b4EI/SU5PtfEMtqI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LTX_s-ZYvL0/S220/Britlie%27s+Cloudy+Sky.JPG" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><content type="html">When did the "to do list" become yesterday's leftovers.  I have been crossing items off of my list for days.  Literally, I do something and cross it off the list.  Yet, nothing is done.  There is no task completed.  Two weeks have passed since I sent two of my boys to Puerto Rico with family.  Usually, I'd be doing cartwheels and dancing semi-naked in my living room.  Actual naked dancing is 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ymH0ynFxHWwyEG_bn5v2OcpgJ5c/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ymH0ynFxHWwyEG_bn5v2OcpgJ5c/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ymH0ynFxHWwyEG_bn5v2OcpgJ5c/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ymH0ynFxHWwyEG_bn5v2OcpgJ5c/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~4/mcAbbd_qcow" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/2010/07/missing-and-no-action.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0MDQX8zeCp7ImA9WxFUFEo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4282309607243496009.post-6009814247957737022</id><published>2010-06-25T03:53:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-25T09:11:10.180-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-06-25T09:11:10.180-04:00</app:edited><title>Who Needs a Budget Anyway?</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/feeds/6009814247957737022/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4282309607243496009&amp;postID=6009814247957737022&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/6009814247957737022?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/6009814247957737022?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~3/EWGob2PycNs/who-needs-budget-anyway.html" title="Who Needs a Budget Anyway?" /><author><name>PrttyBrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10534628760409896860</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/_UORhlX9b4EI/SU5PtfEMtqI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LTX_s-ZYvL0/S220/Britlie%27s+Cloudy+Sky.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
I used to be fairly good at math.  Really, I was.  I was never a mathematician, but even now I can still do Algebra.  I can also figure out a tip in about five seconds, and I'm pretty good at sales math too.  What's sales math, you ask.  Well it is just as it sounds.  If a pair of shoes was originally 62.99 and now it is on clearance for 75% off, but you also have a coupon for an extra 10% off, 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/GZD-3Ec7WRVnoWUaYemMEVzoCP0/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/GZD-3Ec7WRVnoWUaYemMEVzoCP0/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/GZD-3Ec7WRVnoWUaYemMEVzoCP0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/GZD-3Ec7WRVnoWUaYemMEVzoCP0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~4/EWGob2PycNs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/2010/06/who-needs-budget-anyway.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkcNQnw5cSp7ImA9WxFVE08.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4282309607243496009.post-7085296396353591064</id><published>2010-06-10T03:16:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-12T02:28:13.229-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-06-12T02:28:13.229-04:00</app:edited><title>"Dew" Kids, Veggie What?, and Family Fun</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/feeds/7085296396353591064/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4282309607243496009&amp;postID=7085296396353591064&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/7085296396353591064?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/7085296396353591064?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~3/3w8HVawBsKU/dew-kids-and-family-fun.html" title="&quot;Dew&quot; Kids, Veggie What?, and Family Fun" /><author><name>PrttyBrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10534628760409896860</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/_UORhlX9b4EI/SU5PtfEMtqI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LTX_s-ZYvL0/S220/Britlie%27s+Cloudy+Sky.JPG" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><content type="html">On my to visit my family I pondered how the next generation has grown, and is growing.  I thought of my niece, the first of my parents grandchildren.  She has always been amazing and headstrong.  Unfortunately, the strong will of hers tends to ride the the crest of the waves that accompany the teen years.  At eighteen, she knows everything and can't be told anything.  Her story will be written by
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/uMxse_OFWOWbc97NxiKtVF8tJDs/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/uMxse_OFWOWbc97NxiKtVF8tJDs/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/uMxse_OFWOWbc97NxiKtVF8tJDs/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/uMxse_OFWOWbc97NxiKtVF8tJDs/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~4/3w8HVawBsKU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/2010/06/dew-kids-and-family-fun.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0INR3s8cCp7ImA9WxFXFEo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4282309607243496009.post-5015798272052711660</id><published>2010-05-21T15:53:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-21T15:53:16.578-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-05-21T15:53:16.578-04:00</app:edited><title>You Said What?</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/feeds/5015798272052711660/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4282309607243496009&amp;postID=5015798272052711660&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/5015798272052711660?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/5015798272052711660?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~3/0GQAhwNIrL0/you-said-what.html" title="You Said What?" /><author><name>PrttyBrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10534628760409896860</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/_UORhlX9b4EI/SU5PtfEMtqI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LTX_s-ZYvL0/S220/Britlie%27s+Cloudy+Sky.JPG" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><content type="html">Changes sneak up on you, even when you
know they are coming.  Little ones start to give as good as they take,
and big ones twist things perversely until your words turn into a
mangled web of barbed wire in their minds.  I am amused and perplexed
at the things children pick up. I'm even more amused about the innocent things they say that just sound so wrong.  For instance, we have three roosters 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/yDns2OUBp_xpVj1ukY7Ytzt4-Fg/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/yDns2OUBp_xpVj1ukY7Ytzt4-Fg/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/yDns2OUBp_xpVj1ukY7Ytzt4-Fg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/yDns2OUBp_xpVj1ukY7Ytzt4-Fg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~4/0GQAhwNIrL0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/2010/05/you-said-what.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUYMQ3c-fyp7ImA9WxFXE00.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4282309607243496009.post-2201113412716013741</id><published>2010-05-19T18:13:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-19T18:13:02.957-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-05-19T18:13:02.957-04:00</app:edited><title>Here is to us</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/feeds/2201113412716013741/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4282309607243496009&amp;postID=2201113412716013741&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/2201113412716013741?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/2201113412716013741?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~3/nRJzGdhVn4Q/here-is-to-us.html" title="Here is to us" /><author><name>PrttyBrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10534628760409896860</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/_UORhlX9b4EI/SU5PtfEMtqI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LTX_s-ZYvL0/S220/Britlie%27s+Cloudy+Sky.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Why is it that my younger ones follow the actions of my preteen and ignore my incessant guidance pertaining to their behavior.  I can understand the lackluster look in the eyes of my oldest as I give him the rundown for the day.  It's just too soon for the younger ones to take that route.  They haven't paid their dues yet.  They haven't gone through the good years of listening and doing what 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-Xs0RqhJAGvETNea82ItcVCXCAM/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-Xs0RqhJAGvETNea82ItcVCXCAM/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-Xs0RqhJAGvETNea82ItcVCXCAM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-Xs0RqhJAGvETNea82ItcVCXCAM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~4/nRJzGdhVn4Q" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/2010/05/here-is-to-us.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUEHSX8-fSp7ImA9WxFQFkU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4282309607243496009.post-6478495744865675835</id><published>2010-05-12T14:07:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-12T14:07:18.155-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-05-12T14:07:18.155-04:00</app:edited><title>Timing is Everything</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/feeds/6478495744865675835/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4282309607243496009&amp;postID=6478495744865675835&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/6478495744865675835?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/6478495744865675835?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~3/rjV1uLFe8fU/timing-is-everything.html" title="Timing is Everything" /><author><name>PrttyBrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10534628760409896860</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/_UORhlX9b4EI/SU5PtfEMtqI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LTX_s-ZYvL0/S220/Britlie%27s+Cloudy+Sky.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Usually the afternoons go pretty smoothly. Yesterday, however, there was a small hiccup in the flow of things.  I didn't really think anything of it.  The baby is having a bout of diaper rash and screams to be changed immediately.  So, I looked at the clock and determined that since the bus for my Kindergartener  doesn't get to the corner for another five minutes, I could change the diaper before
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/yV8IGbdRtuXGnx7FENj9sKyZIbY/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/yV8IGbdRtuXGnx7FENj9sKyZIbY/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/yV8IGbdRtuXGnx7FENj9sKyZIbY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/yV8IGbdRtuXGnx7FENj9sKyZIbY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~4/rjV1uLFe8fU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/2010/05/timing-is-everything.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DE8HQH86fSp7ImA9WxFQEEo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4282309607243496009.post-3975029430640352792</id><published>2010-05-05T12:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-05T12:27:11.115-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-05-05T12:27:11.115-04:00</app:edited><title>Relief Is Just a Phone Call Away</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/feeds/3975029430640352792/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4282309607243496009&amp;postID=3975029430640352792&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/3975029430640352792?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/3975029430640352792?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~3/R4v-g39WbQU/relief-is-just-phone-call-away.html" title="Relief Is Just a Phone Call Away" /><author><name>PrttyBrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10534628760409896860</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/_UORhlX9b4EI/SU5PtfEMtqI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LTX_s-ZYvL0/S220/Britlie%27s+Cloudy+Sky.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">As an adult, interactions with my family (parents and siblings) results in some adverse symptomatology.  We all love each other very much.  Unfortunately, that love is laced with a good deal of stress and excitement.  Thus the weirdness ensues.  See, whenever we get on the phone with each other, one or all of us have to run to the restroom.  Yes, we are there for each other in times of need or 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/_LYZJrfmtgQkfjrWVeapi5iF1G8/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/_LYZJrfmtgQkfjrWVeapi5iF1G8/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/_LYZJrfmtgQkfjrWVeapi5iF1G8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/_LYZJrfmtgQkfjrWVeapi5iF1G8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~4/R4v-g39WbQU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/2010/05/relief-is-just-phone-call-away.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D08DQHk9eip7ImA9WxFRGUU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4282309607243496009.post-7331955300905448208</id><published>2010-05-04T11:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-04T11:11:11.762-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-05-04T11:11:11.762-04:00</app:edited><title>Be Careful What You Wish For</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/feeds/7331955300905448208/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4282309607243496009&amp;postID=7331955300905448208&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/7331955300905448208?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/7331955300905448208?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~3/__pm2_N_kh4/be-careful-what-you-wish-for.html" title="Be Careful What You Wish For" /><author><name>PrttyBrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10534628760409896860</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/_UORhlX9b4EI/SU5PtfEMtqI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LTX_s-ZYvL0/S220/Britlie%27s+Cloudy+Sky.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">I have decided that God is trying to tell me something.  He is kicking me in my lazy butt and telling me to get over myself.  I know this, because, when it comes to me and my family, He has a twisted sense of humor though this really isn't funny.  I suppose that after all these years of me being unmotivated and a reluctant housekeeper, he decided to give me perspective.  Granted, I needed 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/fn_6shLRNQ7JiJ9w8YZUhpccypg/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/fn_6shLRNQ7JiJ9w8YZUhpccypg/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/fn_6shLRNQ7JiJ9w8YZUhpccypg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/fn_6shLRNQ7JiJ9w8YZUhpccypg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~4/__pm2_N_kh4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/2010/05/be-careful-what-you-wish-for.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0EFQHcyfSp7ImA9WxFRFkQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4282309607243496009.post-3220404234856061819</id><published>2010-05-01T01:26:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-01T01:26:51.995-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-05-01T01:26:51.995-04:00</app:edited><title>Is it really that good to be so popular?</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/feeds/3220404234856061819/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4282309607243496009&amp;postID=3220404234856061819&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/3220404234856061819?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/3220404234856061819?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~3/Pi1Dn3CGzdY/is-it-really-that-good-to-be-so-popular.html" title="Is it really that good to be so popular?" /><author><name>PrttyBrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10534628760409896860</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/_UORhlX9b4EI/SU5PtfEMtqI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LTX_s-ZYvL0/S220/Britlie%27s+Cloudy+Sky.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Is it possible?  Could everyone be losing their minds at the same time?  Could there really be something in the water?  Something's going on around here.  Lives, whether yours, mine, or anyone else's, go around in cycles.  They ebb and flow sometimes in a beautiful fluid dance with the lives around them, and sometimes in great conflict.  In between those conflicted moments can be moments of peace
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/k_cfpX9SidNaVF-f35aPhE9dFVo/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/k_cfpX9SidNaVF-f35aPhE9dFVo/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/k_cfpX9SidNaVF-f35aPhE9dFVo/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/k_cfpX9SidNaVF-f35aPhE9dFVo/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~4/Pi1Dn3CGzdY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/2010/05/is-it-really-that-good-to-be-so-popular.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0EFSHg4cSp7ImA9WxFSGEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4282309607243496009.post-6356346968322540248</id><published>2010-04-21T09:13:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-21T09:13:39.639-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-04-21T09:13:39.639-04:00</app:edited><title>They Let It Be</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/feeds/6356346968322540248/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4282309607243496009&amp;postID=6356346968322540248&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/6356346968322540248?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/6356346968322540248?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~3/hFk4GlIGw2Q/they-let-it-be.html" title="They Let It Be" /><author><name>PrttyBrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10534628760409896860</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/_UORhlX9b4EI/SU5PtfEMtqI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LTX_s-ZYvL0/S220/Britlie%27s+Cloudy+Sky.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Perhaps peer pressure has its place; perhaps not.  In-home make-up consultants can make for an interesting evening.  Pushy friends hijacked me, and I ended up having a pretty good time.  Not that the make-up or the demonstration were anything spectacular, but the people were ridiculous.  There were some teenagers and their Mom,  My friend, who ended  up two hours late, and some of her extended 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/LZNQtKC6wtQod2OUDGiPoiEieYY/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/LZNQtKC6wtQod2OUDGiPoiEieYY/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/LZNQtKC6wtQod2OUDGiPoiEieYY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/LZNQtKC6wtQod2OUDGiPoiEieYY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~4/hFk4GlIGw2Q" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/2010/04/they-let-it-be.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkENRXwzfCp7ImA9WxFSGEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4282309607243496009.post-994565062133687822</id><published>2010-04-21T01:32:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-21T08:58:14.284-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-04-21T08:58:14.284-04:00</app:edited><title>Give Me Back My Crayons</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/feeds/994565062133687822/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4282309607243496009&amp;postID=994565062133687822&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/994565062133687822?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/994565062133687822?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~3/8watB2chKcM/give-me-back-my-crayons.html" title="Give Me Back My Crayons" /><author><name>PrttyBrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10534628760409896860</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/_UORhlX9b4EI/SU5PtfEMtqI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LTX_s-ZYvL0/S220/Britlie%27s+Cloudy+Sky.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
Twisted words and deaf ears.

All has been manipulated and misunderstood.

It can't be fixed.  

There are no repairs to be made, as more words make you guilty.  

Paths are altered by perception.  

An innocent smile can lead to sadness. 

What can be, often is swept away by the ramblings of others.  

A moment of doubt can end a friendship.  

What does it say about you, if you really don't 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YzNCoDuOmrYnno7hEZ6w72wPgHE/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YzNCoDuOmrYnno7hEZ6w72wPgHE/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YzNCoDuOmrYnno7hEZ6w72wPgHE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YzNCoDuOmrYnno7hEZ6w72wPgHE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~4/8watB2chKcM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/2010/04/give-me-back-my-crayons.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C04FQnw5fyp7ImA9WxFSFkg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4282309607243496009.post-5426241024413203529</id><published>2010-04-19T00:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-19T00:38:33.227-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-04-19T00:38:33.227-04:00</app:edited><title>I See the Rain</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/feeds/5426241024413203529/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4282309607243496009&amp;postID=5426241024413203529&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/5426241024413203529?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/5426241024413203529?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~3/kU2HcgZ_Pzk/i-see-rain.html" title="I See the Rain" /><author><name>PrttyBrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10534628760409896860</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/_UORhlX9b4EI/SU5PtfEMtqI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LTX_s-ZYvL0/S220/Britlie%27s+Cloudy+Sky.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
Gray skies and broken rain

Sliding down the windshield

A lifeline ever-changing

droplets, in contact they merge

Yet, some sit lonely, isolated

Only to be sucked into the paths of others

Left behind or swept away

As I sat it the  parking lot watching the rain on the windshield, I was reminded of how much it reminded me of people, of life.  There are some drops that sit stagnant, almost 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/otBvm3K6Nv2o7ZdcjB1EoJ3tjVQ/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/otBvm3K6Nv2o7ZdcjB1EoJ3tjVQ/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/otBvm3K6Nv2o7ZdcjB1EoJ3tjVQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/otBvm3K6Nv2o7ZdcjB1EoJ3tjVQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~4/kU2HcgZ_Pzk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/2010/04/i-see-rain.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkUDSX0zcSp7ImA9WxFSEkg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4282309607243496009.post-8346122101273644445</id><published>2010-04-14T10:17:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-14T11:17:58.389-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-04-14T11:17:58.389-04:00</app:edited><title>Chicken Run</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/feeds/8346122101273644445/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4282309607243496009&amp;postID=8346122101273644445&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/8346122101273644445?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4282309607243496009/posts/default/8346122101273644445?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~3/cHX3w6MQw7I/chicken-run.html" title="Chicken Run" /><author><name>PrttyBrd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10534628760409896860</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/_UORhlX9b4EI/SU5PtfEMtqI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LTX_s-ZYvL0/S220/Britlie%27s+Cloudy+Sky.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">So, back to my chickens.  My oldest, who tends our flock, is a funny little bug.  He antagonizes the roosters then runs screaming when they defend themselves.  Yesterday, the chickens were running around the yard and he was in the pen gathering eggs and whatnot.  Well, one of the feisty roos kept leaping at him, quite agitated.  My boy was yelping and screaming "hi-ya" like some kind of kung fu 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/0g6rhTHXz5LaVimhrJMG-k4CkEU/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/0g6rhTHXz5LaVimhrJMG-k4CkEU/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/0g6rhTHXz5LaVimhrJMG-k4CkEU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/0g6rhTHXz5LaVimhrJMG-k4CkEU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FugaciousSagacity/~4/cHX3w6MQw7I" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://fugacious-sagacity.blogspot.com/2010/04/chicken-run.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>

