<?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:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2769074786333810440</id><updated>2024-10-24T03:21:24.665-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Return too, Saturn</title><subtitle type='html'>A collection of thoughts scrambled up and served piping hot for your pleasure.  This is my place to vent so don&#39;t expect a life altering experience.  Maybe a few laughs...and some movement in your pants!</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17243206941264235259</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLdNLdqcnNQgMhp7zNIefCkJKbLIlO32SQ5SBbr4vKe4ez4mcWACLvhu2zbyWsYKXDbuBagV-H5r9OzPBrtXk5NbMPJszNh6u4uAPez8irvE10JKpBG6ImzGg9V7vRGFE/s220/WP_20130713_00120130713000505.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>25</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><blogger:adultContent>true</blogger:adultContent><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2769074786333810440.post-8871019813474942275</id><published>2013-09-26T16:46:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2013-09-26T16:46:57.619-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Something needs to change. </title><content type='html'>I have been avoiding posting for quite some time.  I really don&#39;t have anything positive to say.  Whatever adhesions/female problems related to my previous ENDO that have been going on have really taken a toll on me.  It is exhausting both physically and mentally.  I know I don&#39;t have problems as severe as some people do.  But my entire life has been effected by this.  I feel so sad that I am not able to do normal things.  That I can&#39;t exercise and I feel so out of shape.  I am so depressed that I am not able to do fun things with my family.  A good day is getting out of the house for a few hours and NOT feeling like the pain is going to kill me.
I have pain medication and sometimes it works.  Lately most of the time it just takes the edge off and I have to lay under my heating pad savior.  I can&#39;t keep this face on for much longer.  I am jealous and getting bitter that my life is confined to my house.  Then I feel guilty that my family is so kind to me that they want to adjust plans to try and accommodate me.  Especially when most of the time I ruin all outings. 

I don&#39;t want to fall down this hole, but I don&#39;t know how much longer I can hang on.  I just really need something to give...</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/feeds/8871019813474942275/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2013/09/something-needs-to-change.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/8871019813474942275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/8871019813474942275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2013/09/something-needs-to-change.html' title='Something needs to change. '/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17243206941264235259</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLdNLdqcnNQgMhp7zNIefCkJKbLIlO32SQ5SBbr4vKe4ez4mcWACLvhu2zbyWsYKXDbuBagV-H5r9OzPBrtXk5NbMPJszNh6u4uAPez8irvE10JKpBG6ImzGg9V7vRGFE/s220/WP_20130713_00120130713000505.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2769074786333810440.post-3477105238904864889</id><published>2013-09-04T21:41:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2013-09-04T21:41:14.985-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The post I don&#39;t want to post</title><content type='html'>I feel awful today.  Not much different than any other day that this stupid pain resurfaces.  But the pain I feel pales in comparison to the sheer exhaustion I feel when dealing with people.  People who do not understand the situation (former endometriosis - possibly current -  almost certainly adhesions.  Really don&#39;t know what to say, some have suggestions, some know some one who knows someone who had something like that, Did I try to get a hysterectomy because that helps...

Sometimes it does not make sense to people how I &quot;look&quot; perfectly fine one day and am in the ER the next. Well, it does not make sense to me either but it does happen!  I can spend weeks working out with out incident, and then BAM end up on the floor crying....or hurt so damn bad for so long, the most that I can do is just lay in bed with a heating pad because I am so exhausted.  

I have really made an effort to expand my routine.  Looked for new activities that may make me part of the population, but they are difficult to keep up with.   I really do want so much more- 

I hate feeling like there is something &quot;wrong&quot; with me.  Physically, yep, there is. I can&#39;t show you a cast or a kitchen knife stuck in my skull, but trust me, it is there.  Sadly, when most people try and make me talk to me about it or make me feel better, it just makes everything worse.  I feel even more isolated and alone than I did before someone tried to cheer me up.  Sometimes I just want to take a vacation away from everything lay on an island someplace and NOT talk about ANYTHING TO ANYONE.

I know, I know, WHOMP-WHOMP....Things could be SO MUCH WORSE......But I just needed to vent  </content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/feeds/3477105238904864889/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2013/09/the-post-i-dont-want-to-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/3477105238904864889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/3477105238904864889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2013/09/the-post-i-dont-want-to-post.html' title='The post I don&#39;t want to post'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17243206941264235259</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLdNLdqcnNQgMhp7zNIefCkJKbLIlO32SQ5SBbr4vKe4ez4mcWACLvhu2zbyWsYKXDbuBagV-H5r9OzPBrtXk5NbMPJszNh6u4uAPez8irvE10JKpBG6ImzGg9V7vRGFE/s220/WP_20130713_00120130713000505.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2769074786333810440.post-3202805356611904512</id><published>2013-08-13T19:14:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2013-08-13T19:14:24.810-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Yo, Ho. HO!</title><content type='html'>Today has been a particularly crappy pain day.  I can feel my insides screaming.  I have had to take so much pain medication today that I am dosing on and off. My teeth feel loose from grinding them when I feel a wave of pain coming on.  I wish I could be sarcastic and come up with some witty lines about life and this condition...but right now, I can&#39;t even get up and wash my face.  I will be so glad when I have no pain.  

</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/feeds/3202805356611904512/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2013/08/yo-ho-ho.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/3202805356611904512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/3202805356611904512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2013/08/yo-ho-ho.html' title='Yo, Ho. HO!'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17243206941264235259</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLdNLdqcnNQgMhp7zNIefCkJKbLIlO32SQ5SBbr4vKe4ez4mcWACLvhu2zbyWsYKXDbuBagV-H5r9OzPBrtXk5NbMPJszNh6u4uAPez8irvE10JKpBG6ImzGg9V7vRGFE/s220/WP_20130713_00120130713000505.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2769074786333810440.post-4291366114690743381</id><published>2013-08-05T12:15:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2013-08-05T12:15:03.671-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Moving on, Growing up, Empty nest</title><content type='html'>The last few weeks have been worthy of so many clichés I do not even know where to begin.  I am so incredibly proud and happy that my oldest is in her first apartment in college.  I am grateful that she is only an hour away and that she prepared herself to live on her own.  She is fantastic and will do wonderfully, I have no doubt. I on the other hand am a complete nut job.  I have cried non-stop and can&#39;t wait to see her again.  This is rough.  Thank GOODNESS, my son is staying at home for college right now.  If he follows suit, I will have him for 2 more years.  Though I think it is likely to only be a year before he ventures out on his own.

I have an empty room that will be filled with things eventually.  I am sure this kind of empty feeling is going to go away too.  It will be filled with pride-probably still a bit of worry. But I am sure I will move on from this with an appreciation for my birds flying.  But I will allow myself some tears now and again.  The transition to my next chapter is going to be interesting-

Stay tuned!</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/feeds/4291366114690743381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2013/08/moving-on-growing-up-empty-nest.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/4291366114690743381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/4291366114690743381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2013/08/moving-on-growing-up-empty-nest.html' title='Moving on, Growing up, Empty nest'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17243206941264235259</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLdNLdqcnNQgMhp7zNIefCkJKbLIlO32SQ5SBbr4vKe4ez4mcWACLvhu2zbyWsYKXDbuBagV-H5r9OzPBrtXk5NbMPJszNh6u4uAPez8irvE10JKpBG6ImzGg9V7vRGFE/s220/WP_20130713_00120130713000505.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2769074786333810440.post-4377565617760248743</id><published>2013-07-29T10:54:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2013-07-29T10:54:44.788-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Priorities</title><content type='html'>I can be a friend to you if we disagree about religion and politics.  If we are on opposite sides of a Real Housewives fight, YOU ARE DEAD TO ME!  Maybe I need to pick up a book?!</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/feeds/4377565617760248743/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2013/07/priorities.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/4377565617760248743'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/4377565617760248743'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2013/07/priorities.html' title='Priorities'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17243206941264235259</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLdNLdqcnNQgMhp7zNIefCkJKbLIlO32SQ5SBbr4vKe4ez4mcWACLvhu2zbyWsYKXDbuBagV-H5r9OzPBrtXk5NbMPJszNh6u4uAPez8irvE10JKpBG6ImzGg9V7vRGFE/s220/WP_20130713_00120130713000505.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2769074786333810440.post-5723954431148546977</id><published>2013-07-19T11:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2013-07-19T11:49:00.284-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Backhanded Compliment or Medical Observation?</title><content type='html'>
I went to my PM doctor (that is pain management for all of you non-chronic pain sufferers) for a check up and my monthly piss test for refills.  Still not an addict or rich from selling pills.  Still having the life sucked out of me from my pelvis!!!  While getting my vitals the nurse says to me- “You don’t look like you weigh that much!”  WOW!  REALLY?!!!  That is something you said?  Like, OUTLOUD?  Surprised a bit by this statement I said, “Thanks, I think.”……..”I guess I just carry it well???”  To which she responds, “You must be big boned.”  Ummmmm- Is that a clinical diagnosis that I can get in writing? I can carry it with me when I have to hunt down an XL or when I go to the beach.  LOOK!  I CAN WEAR THIS BECAUSE I AM BIG BONED! I have a note from the doctor and everything!  
Look, I get that you are a thin person and probably don’t have the foggiest idea of what it feels like to step on a scale and have someone standing behind you.  If I said- “You look so PRETTY in this picture!  You must just photograph well!” I am certain that would leave you wondering if I meant you look hideous in person.  If you are someone that is NOT comfortable with the varied appearance of the human body, perhaps you should NOT be in the medical field.  I don’t need you to reassure me that I am not actually Jabba-the-hut.  Maybe no comment should be the policy here. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;

I really do not have a thin skin.  When the same nurse asked me if I was trying to lose weight, I did not flip shit.  She continued to say I was down 6 pounds from last month.  Curious, I did not notice.  Nice to know! The reality of the situation is something she should be familiar with:  Pain = NO EXERCISE!  I have not been able to move without pain for years.  Pain Management, ALLOWS ME TO MANAGE THE PAIN.  Which means, I am more able to exercise.  Which means I probably am going to lose weight! (some, anyway!)&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;

Most of the time I think I am just like any woman.  I think we all have some insecure feelings about our bodies, no matter what our shape.  That I am fine with.  Feeling like I can work at something to make me feel better-look better.  What I am not fine with is thinking I am some sort of freak show because a nurse says…”You’re not fat, You’re just big boned. “  &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;You know what you can do with that big bone sista?!
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/feeds/5723954431148546977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2013/07/backhanded-compliment-or-medical.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/5723954431148546977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/5723954431148546977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2013/07/backhanded-compliment-or-medical.html' title='Backhanded Compliment or Medical Observation?'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17243206941264235259</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLdNLdqcnNQgMhp7zNIefCkJKbLIlO32SQ5SBbr4vKe4ez4mcWACLvhu2zbyWsYKXDbuBagV-H5r9OzPBrtXk5NbMPJszNh6u4uAPez8irvE10JKpBG6ImzGg9V7vRGFE/s220/WP_20130713_00120130713000505.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2769074786333810440.post-8643466206722374808</id><published>2013-07-19T11:14:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2013-07-19T11:14:27.973-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Grin and Bear it!</title><content type='html'>No this is not the title of my own porn production company.  It is advice that I am giving and taking.  My children unanimously feel like they are not fulfilling my expectations of them.  Are they right?  Are they wrong?  This really is not the point.  The point is 1.  I must be hard on them. 2. They must feel like they HAVE to make me happy.  3. They need to learn that they HAVE to live their own lives in the way they see fit.  4. They must please themselves- not me! &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;

I am probably too demanding of them.  I know that I expect them to do their best every single day with whatever it is they are doing.  I expect them to learn from mistakes and keep trying when they fail.  These things are pretty much non-negotiable in life-for me.  Now, does that mean it HAS to be non-negotiable for them? No.  Does it mean if they have a plan that I don&#39;t agree with that they are not still wonderful people?  Absolutely not!  They all have to live for themselves.  &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;

Growing up is a difficult enough task without the burden of trying to please someone else all the time.  I feel as if the idea that they feel they &quot;aren&#39;t making me happy&quot; Is sometimes a cop-out.  I seen them make decisions that moms in general would not love-but don&#39;t really put a second thought into it-as it is something they WANT (ex.  Spending too much money on frivolous things, drinking, dating people that are not good for them.  You know your basic late teen/early 20&#39;s behavior)  They supply this response when discussing life choices.  I feel they take my questions meant to provoke conversation as being cross-examined or as a non UN sanction interrogation techinque.   I recognize that I do at times come off as harsh or judgmental.  But I certainly am not judging them.  I had a difficult transition into adulthood and certainly do not consider myself better than they are.  Balls, I was working on a divorce by the time I was my oldest child&#39;s age.  I CERTAINLY am not the poster child for wise young adult choices.  &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;

However, I am still holding them accountable for the decisions and chioces they make.  Does that mean that I am judging them?  I don&#39;t think so.  But there is merit to the feelings they have.  Perhaps my abrupt tone or my desire to know all about their life should be curtailed as they are adults?  This is a difficult transistion for all of us and maybe I am making it more difficult for them.  I know it is coming from a good place, but maybe it is time for me to &quot;grin and bear it&quot; too?&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/feeds/8643466206722374808/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2013/07/grin-and-bear-it.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/8643466206722374808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/8643466206722374808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2013/07/grin-and-bear-it.html' title='Grin and Bear it!'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17243206941264235259</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLdNLdqcnNQgMhp7zNIefCkJKbLIlO32SQ5SBbr4vKe4ez4mcWACLvhu2zbyWsYKXDbuBagV-H5r9OzPBrtXk5NbMPJszNh6u4uAPez8irvE10JKpBG6ImzGg9V7vRGFE/s220/WP_20130713_00120130713000505.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2769074786333810440.post-3825877504598752836</id><published>2013-07-19T10:49:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2013-07-19T10:49:29.150-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Love B for this!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;http://brittanyherself.com/aside/the-fear/&quot;&gt;http://brittanyherself.com/aside/the-fear/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Brittany is so honest and open about her feelings and what she wants from life. &amp;nbsp;I wish we are were a little bit more like her. &amp;nbsp;For my role in humanity, I am going to attempt to live without fear. &amp;nbsp;How that will play out, we will have to see. &amp;nbsp;But I am going to take one step forward and be fearless-only if for a while!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Today is the first day of the rest of my life...mmmmk!</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/feeds/3825877504598752836/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2013/07/i-love-b-for-this.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/3825877504598752836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/3825877504598752836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2013/07/i-love-b-for-this.html' title='I Love B for this!'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17243206941264235259</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLdNLdqcnNQgMhp7zNIefCkJKbLIlO32SQ5SBbr4vKe4ez4mcWACLvhu2zbyWsYKXDbuBagV-H5r9OzPBrtXk5NbMPJszNh6u4uAPez8irvE10JKpBG6ImzGg9V7vRGFE/s220/WP_20130713_00120130713000505.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2769074786333810440.post-5334773869713592282</id><published>2013-06-25T22:06:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2013-06-25T22:06:57.313-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tuesdy might suck</title><content type='html'>I am exhausted today!  I managed to run my silly ass 2 miles.  I am so stoked I got that far and did not die!  Though I keep feeling like I can&#39;t stop eating.  I am not sure how the hell it will help me to loose weight when I only run two miles but chow non stop!

I keep arguing with the hubs.  We really do argue about how to spend money A LOT...It is annoying.  I take care of the bills and I am aware of what we need to pay for and that we need to get out of debt.  Which is why I want to PLAN - but he just wants to say NO! we don&#39;t need that....

I don&#39;t respond very well to that.  And the arguments begin!  We are crazy close to separating our finances completely- 

FUUUCCCCKKKK

I am going to get a damn snack!!!</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/feeds/5334773869713592282/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2013/06/tuesdy-might-suck.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/5334773869713592282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/5334773869713592282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2013/06/tuesdy-might-suck.html' title='Tuesdy might suck'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17243206941264235259</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLdNLdqcnNQgMhp7zNIefCkJKbLIlO32SQ5SBbr4vKe4ez4mcWACLvhu2zbyWsYKXDbuBagV-H5r9OzPBrtXk5NbMPJszNh6u4uAPez8irvE10JKpBG6ImzGg9V7vRGFE/s220/WP_20130713_00120130713000505.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2769074786333810440.post-7510094022449212946</id><published>2013-06-13T11:07:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2013-06-13T11:07:49.052-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Off to the Races</title><content type='html'>The title reminds me of when I was growing up in nowhereville and kids used to &quot;go to the races&quot; on the weekend.  I mean, is this an actual race track or someone&#39;s back yard dirt bike track?


&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJN5k_YCH2OQ_t76v4CZ9t0fAbObDBbrhWU1pl_NpjjpDvYka0Dnb3HhsPi2cN1VqCQGLjVLGKptWoPXWyCkQq35As4DBNkTaNlLLEkP9P275iE0UesVsGh8fQb4VrobB_dyFHyRuu8VI/s1600/SouthernRaceway.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJN5k_YCH2OQ_t76v4CZ9t0fAbObDBbrhWU1pl_NpjjpDvYka0Dnb3HhsPi2cN1VqCQGLjVLGKptWoPXWyCkQq35As4DBNkTaNlLLEkP9P275iE0UesVsGh8fQb4VrobB_dyFHyRuu8VI/s320/SouthernRaceway.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;


I am not referencing a physical race, but a mental one.  I seem to have an issue dashing off to the next issue rather than enjoying anything.  If I am at work, my brain is focusing on problems at home- when I am at home, my brain is racing back to work.  It is almost as if I miss the joy of the moment entirely because I am concerned about getting to or creating the next moment.  It is causing me to miss so much and frankly it is becoming exhausting.  If I were a triathlete (hahahahahahahahha) I would liken it to biking through the water.  Being so obsessed with accomplishing the task at hand as well as preparing for the next, I am drowning and getting nowhere.  Fuck, that is really depressing.  I seriously need to work on that....but while I am working on that, I have to plan my anniversary weekend......see what I mean?</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/feeds/7510094022449212946/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2013/06/off-to-races.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/7510094022449212946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/7510094022449212946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2013/06/off-to-races.html' title='Off to the Races'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17243206941264235259</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLdNLdqcnNQgMhp7zNIefCkJKbLIlO32SQ5SBbr4vKe4ez4mcWACLvhu2zbyWsYKXDbuBagV-H5r9OzPBrtXk5NbMPJszNh6u4uAPez8irvE10JKpBG6ImzGg9V7vRGFE/s220/WP_20130713_00120130713000505.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJN5k_YCH2OQ_t76v4CZ9t0fAbObDBbrhWU1pl_NpjjpDvYka0Dnb3HhsPi2cN1VqCQGLjVLGKptWoPXWyCkQq35As4DBNkTaNlLLEkP9P275iE0UesVsGh8fQb4VrobB_dyFHyRuu8VI/s72-c/SouthernRaceway.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2769074786333810440.post-2337865392742829247</id><published>2013-06-07T20:26:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2013-06-13T11:10:44.176-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It&#39;s not me...is it?</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I get on this kick.  When I think if I throw my shit up on a blog, it will act as therapy.  At the very least someone will call me out on my own self-deluding bullshit.  So here we go again.  Try number 8 to get an active blog running about life.  Maybe my life or the life I want to lead or maybe the life I want you to &lt;i&gt;think&lt;/i&gt; I lead.  Regardless, I hope to sprinkle some humor onto some words and maybe into your life.  &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;

Enjoy-or don&#39;t!&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;

Deep thoughts of a thirty something. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;

I once told my stepmom that I thought people who had children not of their own DNA could love that child the same way the could their &quot;own&quot;  As I have gotten older, I had to reassess that idea.  I think it was just her that could not give me the same love that she did her birth children. Looking back it seemed to be a struggle for the approval or the backing of my father.  How sad is that?  On his own, my father could not make any decisions on his own.  Not that he was not capable, he was not allowed to.  More importantly, he could NEVER voice a dissenting opinion.  I &lt;i&gt;think&lt;/i&gt; once he tried to back me up when I was graduating.  She threw him out of the house.  He still gets that thrown in his face. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;

I often worry if I am turning into my mother.  As horrifying as that idea was to me when I was a teenager, it is even more so now.  

</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/feeds/2337865392742829247/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2013/06/its-not-meis-it.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/2337865392742829247'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/2337865392742829247'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2013/06/its-not-meis-it.html' title='It&#39;s not me...is it?'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17243206941264235259</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLdNLdqcnNQgMhp7zNIefCkJKbLIlO32SQ5SBbr4vKe4ez4mcWACLvhu2zbyWsYKXDbuBagV-H5r9OzPBrtXk5NbMPJszNh6u4uAPez8irvE10JKpBG6ImzGg9V7vRGFE/s220/WP_20130713_00120130713000505.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2769074786333810440.post-7426121119427758153</id><published>2010-10-22T08:53:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-22T08:53:50.854-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ocean Water and Vodka....</title><content type='html'>So my kid snuck out to her first party last weekend.  Not technically her first sneak out or her first party but definitely her first boy girl sleep over party.  Yep, I want to jab myself in the eye.  The first few days of punishment were rough.  Lots of fighting.  Some yelling.  No shaking the baby like I wanted to though.  We have hit a patch where we can discuss it which is nice.  But also strange to hear your kid talking about pouring vodka into a sonic ocean water.  Which sounds like a damn good concoction to me.  But I won’t tell her that….Yet.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/feeds/7426121119427758153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2010/10/ocean-water-and-vodka.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/7426121119427758153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/7426121119427758153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2010/10/ocean-water-and-vodka.html' title='Ocean Water and Vodka....'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17243206941264235259</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLdNLdqcnNQgMhp7zNIefCkJKbLIlO32SQ5SBbr4vKe4ez4mcWACLvhu2zbyWsYKXDbuBagV-H5r9OzPBrtXk5NbMPJszNh6u4uAPez8irvE10JKpBG6ImzGg9V7vRGFE/s220/WP_20130713_00120130713000505.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2769074786333810440.post-4871863283861349679</id><published>2010-07-09T12:21:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-09T12:25:07.523-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jealous Much</title><content type='html'>Yes, I spent yesterday afternoon out of my office sitting on the beach drinking beer in paradise.  Yep.  &lt;br /&gt;Though I was a bit concerned by this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVhYEyzp6pTFZXaThoqo0vg5fQLNMXeMGvbZEtn9YugC83rgTiGmH8p-pbaFuXZbqBbA82_er6L5zqqyAygCDM-wz6E5uYWlNZ1J3UFYOxNJKWMkHwkNHBfycOiGi1xjm9f3FSZOwO25c/s1600/oil+clean+up.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 190px; height: 320px;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVhYEyzp6pTFZXaThoqo0vg5fQLNMXeMGvbZEtn9YugC83rgTiGmH8p-pbaFuXZbqBbA82_er6L5zqqyAygCDM-wz6E5uYWlNZ1J3UFYOxNJKWMkHwkNHBfycOiGi1xjm9f3FSZOwO25c/s320/oil+clean+up.jpg&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot;id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491989160433036386&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I noticed that they were only picking up garbage.  I am sure the government would love to know they are paying people 20 bucks an hour to pick up tourist’s trash.  But who am I to bitch?  I like a clean beach with my beer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it is a fine Friday and I am faced with a weekend full of drinking and eating like we have friends in town for vacation….ahhh the life:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCauc8lRj9rzmq7MjIifP2vrcD4GlZKHQq8M7GpHZ5H4MT-Po6MI_EOf0ULGubEyuUmp45KMu8-pEjVRlIw3FAYltzaFx9vRybgwFyPrzz5vrKEUP32f3uj84zxu2V7pVQdZ-HPtB1Fdc/s1600/Florida.bmp&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCauc8lRj9rzmq7MjIifP2vrcD4GlZKHQq8M7GpHZ5H4MT-Po6MI_EOf0ULGubEyuUmp45KMu8-pEjVRlIw3FAYltzaFx9vRybgwFyPrzz5vrKEUP32f3uj84zxu2V7pVQdZ-HPtB1Fdc/s320/Florida.bmp&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot;id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491989449816535922&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/feeds/4871863283861349679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2010/07/jealous-much.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/4871863283861349679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/4871863283861349679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2010/07/jealous-much.html' title='Jealous Much'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17243206941264235259</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLdNLdqcnNQgMhp7zNIefCkJKbLIlO32SQ5SBbr4vKe4ez4mcWACLvhu2zbyWsYKXDbuBagV-H5r9OzPBrtXk5NbMPJszNh6u4uAPez8irvE10JKpBG6ImzGg9V7vRGFE/s220/WP_20130713_00120130713000505.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVhYEyzp6pTFZXaThoqo0vg5fQLNMXeMGvbZEtn9YugC83rgTiGmH8p-pbaFuXZbqBbA82_er6L5zqqyAygCDM-wz6E5uYWlNZ1J3UFYOxNJKWMkHwkNHBfycOiGi1xjm9f3FSZOwO25c/s72-c/oil+clean+up.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2769074786333810440.post-4862261993504067355</id><published>2010-05-03T20:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T20:58:52.731-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oil Slicks?</title><content type='html'>Not fucking cool man.  It is going to cut short our summer time fun time.  Who the hell is going to want to visit the emerald coast when it is shimmering in black sludge?  Not so appealing to tourists.  As much as they get on my damn nerves, they keep my taxes LOW.  I want to get on a boat and sun my boooody and pull the kids behind in a tube.  They butt love that.  Plus I am sure the air from the oil will somehow wreak havoc on my sinus.  HELLO snotty noses are NOT HOT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not to mention I am sure this will somehow raise my gas prices.  Like I need that shit now.  Balls.  This summer may not be the jam I was hopping for. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I need a new habbit.  BBQ and drinking at the hizzy.  Guess we are gonna have to dust off some recipies for drinks and good grub.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my shots in my back, round 3, seem to be doing pretty well.  That and a pill combo are keeping me happy tonight.  Comfy bed and an ice pack are putting me over the edge.  I am about to veg people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sweet dreams!</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/feeds/4862261993504067355/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2010/05/oil-slicks.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/4862261993504067355'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/4862261993504067355'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2010/05/oil-slicks.html' title='Oil Slicks?'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17243206941264235259</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLdNLdqcnNQgMhp7zNIefCkJKbLIlO32SQ5SBbr4vKe4ez4mcWACLvhu2zbyWsYKXDbuBagV-H5r9OzPBrtXk5NbMPJszNh6u4uAPez8irvE10JKpBG6ImzGg9V7vRGFE/s220/WP_20130713_00120130713000505.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2769074786333810440.post-9184280974922026669</id><published>2010-04-19T20:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-19T20:52:04.238-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Botox you say??? Yes</title><content type='html'>So I have a multitude of problems with my lower abdomen.  I have constant pain caused by endmitriosis - scarring- or even bladder issues.  WHAT??????  Yea all these things are true.   So my sweet urologist offered me botox as a solution to my bladder issue.  Yea as a solution to my BLADDER.  AS IN there is an injection in my bladder, not my face.  UHHH No way man.  I am saving my botox for my face.  He did however give me a script for opium up my butt.  So I am going wit that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NICE</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/feeds/9184280974922026669/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2010/04/botox-you-say-yes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/9184280974922026669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/9184280974922026669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2010/04/botox-you-say-yes.html' title='Botox you say??? Yes'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17243206941264235259</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLdNLdqcnNQgMhp7zNIefCkJKbLIlO32SQ5SBbr4vKe4ez4mcWACLvhu2zbyWsYKXDbuBagV-H5r9OzPBrtXk5NbMPJszNh6u4uAPez8irvE10JKpBG6ImzGg9V7vRGFE/s220/WP_20130713_00120130713000505.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2769074786333810440.post-4738744516435499124</id><published>2010-04-12T18:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-12T18:23:50.415-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It is Monday and I got shot in the back.</title><content type='html'>And I paid a doctor a good chunk of change to do it too.  So now I am watching any reality tv I can to escape my own and enjoy the numbing of my old school ice pack and pain pills.   Ah, it is the life!</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/feeds/4738744516435499124/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2010/04/it-is-monday-and-i-got-shot-in-back.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/4738744516435499124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/4738744516435499124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2010/04/it-is-monday-and-i-got-shot-in-back.html' title='It is Monday and I got shot in the back.'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17243206941264235259</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLdNLdqcnNQgMhp7zNIefCkJKbLIlO32SQ5SBbr4vKe4ez4mcWACLvhu2zbyWsYKXDbuBagV-H5r9OzPBrtXk5NbMPJszNh6u4uAPez8irvE10JKpBG6ImzGg9V7vRGFE/s220/WP_20130713_00120130713000505.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2769074786333810440.post-357689675268246898</id><published>2010-04-01T22:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-01T22:20:36.889-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Another shot</title><content type='html'>Mother fucker.  I have to get another nerve block shot in my spine.  BALLS.  Morphine last night still has my head tripped. I am tired of the crap, so yea.  Gonna get the shot. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AND tonight someone was describing a woman to me and said, &quot;she was old as balls, like mid thirties&quot; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT THE FUUUUUCKKKKK&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not old I PROMISE</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/feeds/357689675268246898/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2010/04/another-shot.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/357689675268246898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/357689675268246898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2010/04/another-shot.html' title='Another shot'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17243206941264235259</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLdNLdqcnNQgMhp7zNIefCkJKbLIlO32SQ5SBbr4vKe4ez4mcWACLvhu2zbyWsYKXDbuBagV-H5r9OzPBrtXk5NbMPJszNh6u4uAPez8irvE10JKpBG6ImzGg9V7vRGFE/s220/WP_20130713_00120130713000505.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2769074786333810440.post-3148469251493927134</id><published>2010-03-31T20:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-31T20:18:39.881-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Nail Lady</title><content type='html'>I am really tired of feeling like I got robbed when I go to the salon.  I need to get my nails done or fixed when I come in the salon.  You know, a service, for which I pay after the services ARE RENDERED.  Not BEFORE you paint my nails-  That is bullshit.  I have to tip you before you are done?  AND you try to force me to use cash by charging a fee for debit card transactions?  I am calling fucking BULLSHIT on that one.  I mean really, if I tried to get paid for two weeks of work three days before payday, that shit would not wash, anywhere.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here nail lady....I am tired of being held hostage.  From now on you get cash- and a tip only when my nails are dry AFTER the fake sunlight/fan hits my nails for a indetermined amout of time.  And don&#39;t think I don&#39;t know that little trick you pull when you are &quot;looking&quot; for change for a 20.  I got you- I will bring my ones from the scrip club from now on!</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/feeds/3148469251493927134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2010/03/dear-nail-lady.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/3148469251493927134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/3148469251493927134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2010/03/dear-nail-lady.html' title='Dear Nail Lady'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17243206941264235259</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLdNLdqcnNQgMhp7zNIefCkJKbLIlO32SQ5SBbr4vKe4ez4mcWACLvhu2zbyWsYKXDbuBagV-H5r9OzPBrtXk5NbMPJszNh6u4uAPez8irvE10JKpBG6ImzGg9V7vRGFE/s220/WP_20130713_00120130713000505.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2769074786333810440.post-4979135302078366727</id><published>2010-02-24T18:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-24T19:12:14.945-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Girl Scout Cookies</title><content type='html'>I have spent much of the last month in a funky place.  Not feeling well....stupid abdominal pain.  I feel tired from it all, but I think I am going to try and work my way through this.  Maybe try to be more healthy, work out more.  As I type this, all I can think about is chocolate pudding. In fact, I think I am going to get some right now.  It is totally 60 calories and not as good as girl scout cookies.  Speaking of those triffling hookers.  How is it they have made cookies smaller and put them in smaller packages with out clearing it with me.  What kind of bullshit is that.  I spend good money on that shit and now I am getting 8 to a box.  There are 5 people in my house all of whom will cut a bitch for one of those crack cookies.  I think there should have been some sort of national voting before they ran with this new size/style.  Or they should have asked me first.  Now I want my the rest of my box, bitch!</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/feeds/4979135302078366727/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2010/02/girl-scout-cookies.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/4979135302078366727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/4979135302078366727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2010/02/girl-scout-cookies.html' title='Girl Scout Cookies'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17243206941264235259</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLdNLdqcnNQgMhp7zNIefCkJKbLIlO32SQ5SBbr4vKe4ez4mcWACLvhu2zbyWsYKXDbuBagV-H5r9OzPBrtXk5NbMPJszNh6u4uAPez8irvE10JKpBG6ImzGg9V7vRGFE/s220/WP_20130713_00120130713000505.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2769074786333810440.post-2160384481082525747</id><published>2010-01-25T19:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-25T19:11:28.459-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I&#39;m gettin tired of yo shit</title><content type='html'>My body is REALLY PISSING ME OFF. I have gone through about 8 different operations in the last 5 years. They seem to be all related to my reproductive parts. Minus my appendectomy this month. But I think it is still related some how. Seems it decided to grow out of it&#39;s normal shape and into my empty cavity where the reproductive organs USED to be. I can&#39;t prove it but I think it is my bodys revenge on me. Yea I am paranoid like that.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I have been to the ER about 4 times this year for the nagging pain in my lower abdomen that never seems to want to take a break. I usually do not find any new information when I get outta the place. Most times it is some non descript diagnosis with a &quot;follow up with your regular DR&quot; &lt;br /&gt;Today I had to go in again because of the agony from my lower abdomen. Knowing that I am going to get drugged and sent on my merry way, I decided to go anyway because I could not take it. This time I was ok with it because I know I have an appt with a speciaist in two weeks. So this time, I thought I would be glad to take the meds, as long as there is an end result I can live with. Amazingly, I did find out some new information. I still have my cervix. After 3 years of thinking I was competely with out said cervix I found out that sucker was still in there. That does not really change my outcome. I was still told to follow up, but was given enough meds not to have to come back before my appt with the specialist. But now I have new information about my body. I am not compeltely with out my woman parts. Score one for me....I think</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/feeds/2160384481082525747/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2010/01/im-gettin-tired-of-yo-shit.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/2160384481082525747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/2160384481082525747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2010/01/im-gettin-tired-of-yo-shit.html' title='I&#39;m gettin tired of yo shit'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17243206941264235259</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLdNLdqcnNQgMhp7zNIefCkJKbLIlO32SQ5SBbr4vKe4ez4mcWACLvhu2zbyWsYKXDbuBagV-H5r9OzPBrtXk5NbMPJszNh6u4uAPez8irvE10JKpBG6ImzGg9V7vRGFE/s220/WP_20130713_00120130713000505.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2769074786333810440.post-3218814000439708951</id><published>2010-01-25T19:09:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-25T19:10:43.696-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Saturday Night Live in Destin</title><content type='html'>Remember when this happened??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday night was pretty much a freakin great time. I enjoyed hanging out with James-Josh-Joe-(and cute blonde who&#39;s name I forget) Sitting at the bar watching videos at Hard Rock drinking beer was great fun. Anytime I am yelling in public that &quot;ROB ZOMBIE IS A FUCKING GENIUS&quot; with people who agree with me is going to be a fantastic night. We hung there for a while and of course went to Fuds. Why? Because 10 dolla all you can drink is fantastic- All the better when you are around people that make you crack the fuck up. &lt;br /&gt;James steadily got LOADED. You know how fun he gets when he is plastered. His whole mission was to get Josh loaded before the got on a plane at 9AM! Yea, back to the sand. So James had to get him wasted and himself along the way. James is buying shots for the band- cracking me up. I loved the hell out of Greg&#39;s headband- The light shining on Josh all night- was a riot. He kept saying he felt like Jesus. Which if you were there, you would have seen him act like he thought he was. Couple that with Greg kinda looking a bit like Jesus himself. A bachlorette party with a chick in gold who might of thought she should be a stripper. Man, what a funny night. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We get home at 11- yes- 11! We had to cause the girls were at the house. I am trying to get James in with out them noticing he is loaded. You know he wants to chat it up. So we go outside to let Bradley out. It is 1130 by now. Bradley wants to play, so James chases him. At this point it is not worth my time to try and stop James from injuring himself because he is beyond the point of reason. Bradley is fast now and pretty damn agile. So James is trying hard to catch him. ( Sober it is difficult enough because the dog is just FAST) So at one point James thinks he has the dog cornered- but not so fast…Bradley dodges, and wham- James flies head first into the fence. I am falling on the ground laughing now. I mean in HYSTERICS! James is of course ok. But I am cracking up. We finally all get into the house, and you know James wants to have sex. No come on. You just flew head first into the fence- obviously you are wasted. If that is not enough, the girls are out in the living room watching TV. Drunk people do not have quiet sex. EVER. Still he kept trying to convince me. Baby, I will be quiet- in the whisper only a drunk person can scream- I kept saying no cause he would pass out on me or something So he gives up and decides to shower. Which I beg him not to do because I am afraid he will fall down from drunkenness or the concussion he probably got from the fence. He will not listen to me though and showers. Luckily he makes it out- and proceeds to try to get some until he passes out a whopping 3 minutes later! &lt;br /&gt;It was so funny! All I could do is laugh at him! He is a nut job, but I love him!</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/feeds/3218814000439708951/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2010/01/saturday-night-live-in-destin.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/3218814000439708951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/3218814000439708951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2010/01/saturday-night-live-in-destin.html' title='Saturday Night Live in Destin'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17243206941264235259</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLdNLdqcnNQgMhp7zNIefCkJKbLIlO32SQ5SBbr4vKe4ez4mcWACLvhu2zbyWsYKXDbuBagV-H5r9OzPBrtXk5NbMPJszNh6u4uAPez8irvE10JKpBG6ImzGg9V7vRGFE/s220/WP_20130713_00120130713000505.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2769074786333810440.post-3415251325901211618</id><published>2010-01-25T19:09:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-25T19:09:47.575-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Vodka Anyone?</title><content type='html'>There is something you need to know, in the event that you do not have this information, allow me to enlighten you…..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Children have a boundless sense of entitlement. When they are in the womb, they take every bit of nutrient they need from your body. If you are lacking a vitamin, they will take it from your bones. Once they are born, they will suck the life right out of your tit, only to shit and vomit it back up on you later. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but that will not change as they get older. Sure they don&#39;t feed from your tit literally but they sure will suck the hell out of your bank account. The vomiting thing still happens occasionally when it is at the worst time possible. Say when you are scheduled to go out of town or you have a birthday. &lt;br /&gt;When they get older they want the newest and the best of all things, only to cast it aside later as if it were worthless. Then there you are scratching your head wondering what the hell you bought that useless piece of crap for anyway….Ten days later, they will want the newest version of the &quot;nothing&quot; they already have. Looking for more ways to spend your money, they will not even offer up a thank you for your efforts making dinner. Chances are they will say, &quot;Chicken again? Can we go out to eat?&quot; &lt;br /&gt;When they are teens, they spend their time trying to grow up and get away from you. Make no mistake, that little thing that sucked the nutrients out of your body, will continue to age you well past your good years. You will spend countless nights awake wondering if you are doing the right thing, making the right choices, giving too much/not enough. It is a horror- There is no doubt that there will be screams and tears, and that is YOUR part. No matter how different you swore you would be, or how cool you think you are, you will be the biggest dork your child has ever seen. No amount of hip speak or cool gadgets will make you anything less than an embarrassment to your child. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With all this said, you may think I have the worst children in the world. Well that is far from the case. They are magnificent, intelligent, loving and kind-when they are asleep! I kid, I kid. They all have the moments, when they look at you, and you know that you are blessed to have them in your life! I will tell you something though, the peace corps got it wrong. Parenthood is the toughest job you will ever love. So here&#39;s to my fellow parents feeling my pain. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So in closing- I will steal a line from a great man, &quot;Every one hold your drinks up high and say- FUCK PARENTHOOD!&quot;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/feeds/3415251325901211618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2010/01/vodka-anyone.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/3415251325901211618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/3415251325901211618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2010/01/vodka-anyone.html' title='Vodka Anyone?'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17243206941264235259</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLdNLdqcnNQgMhp7zNIefCkJKbLIlO32SQ5SBbr4vKe4ez4mcWACLvhu2zbyWsYKXDbuBagV-H5r9OzPBrtXk5NbMPJszNh6u4uAPez8irvE10JKpBG6ImzGg9V7vRGFE/s220/WP_20130713_00120130713000505.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2769074786333810440.post-1543674126770220117</id><published>2010-01-25T19:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2013-07-20T10:13:57.729-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Freedom, Love</title><content type='html'>Sometimes death brings sorrow, Sometimes it brings freedom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Freedom to grow, Freedom to be &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An exhale of that last breath can dispel the anger with in&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I float through my freedom it becomes clearer&lt;br /&gt;There are times that you are to be&lt;br /&gt;Times that you are not&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is not for a person to decide his place in this world&lt;br /&gt;Rather, the world to decide your place&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am floating – enjoying the breeze &lt;br /&gt;loving the pace- accepting my place&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Becoming the better me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I can love the better you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Acceptance is the ultimate opportunity &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love who you accept &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Freedom is a blessing I wish all</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/feeds/1543674126770220117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2010/01/freedom-love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/1543674126770220117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/1543674126770220117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2010/01/freedom-love.html' title='Freedom, Love'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17243206941264235259</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLdNLdqcnNQgMhp7zNIefCkJKbLIlO32SQ5SBbr4vKe4ez4mcWACLvhu2zbyWsYKXDbuBagV-H5r9OzPBrtXk5NbMPJszNh6u4uAPez8irvE10JKpBG6ImzGg9V7vRGFE/s220/WP_20130713_00120130713000505.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2769074786333810440.post-6224471716471438243</id><published>2010-01-25T19:07:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-25T19:08:13.124-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Well..</title><content type='html'>You knew me at a time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was lonesome, Afraid&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I needed your ear, you insights&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We bonded over life - problems- men&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spent hours on end hashing and rehashing our dreams&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trying to find the anwsers to all the worlds problems&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking for peace in a an 12 oz bottle and a pack of smokes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the many moons since, problems have faded- time &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;has healed wounds, spiritual growth suppassed pettiness&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Forgivness gave way to healing now we are in different places&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is more to life than petty fights-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The good times always outweigh the bad&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I think back to my time on this planet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will always remember the brilliant nights</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/feeds/6224471716471438243/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2010/01/well.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/6224471716471438243'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/6224471716471438243'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2010/01/well.html' title='Well..'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17243206941264235259</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLdNLdqcnNQgMhp7zNIefCkJKbLIlO32SQ5SBbr4vKe4ez4mcWACLvhu2zbyWsYKXDbuBagV-H5r9OzPBrtXk5NbMPJszNh6u4uAPez8irvE10JKpBG6ImzGg9V7vRGFE/s220/WP_20130713_00120130713000505.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2769074786333810440.post-8351654404227627298</id><published>2010-01-25T19:07:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-25T19:07:33.976-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Teach your kids everything before they are 13</title><content type='html'>Considering the fact that I am a younger mom, I am not very cool. I mean I don&#39;t let my kids stay up on the computer or text all night on a school night, I give them a curfew, I make their boyfriends/girlfriends hang out with them in a public part of the house, and I of all things must know where they are when they are not with me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Worst of all- I want better for them. Take this into consideration. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My daughter (16) has been in a &quot;relationship&quot; with a boy we will call DB for about 9 months. In those 9 months they have broken up 5 times. She cries nearly every day. She has lost friends over this relationship. Mainly because her taking her focus off of him makes them fight. He is controlling and manipulating. This behavior has changed my sweet tender hearted daughter into a full on raging teen girl filled with angst and boarder line stalker behavior. Not that I have been above stalking and busting into a boyfriends email when I was in my 20&#39;s, but again, we want better for her. I want her NOT to be needy and insecure! Cue me spending months wasting my time trying to point out how unhealthy the relationship is. Cue her ignoring me and feeling oppressed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the last two months it has gotten completely out of control. We fight with her every day and she gets grounded consistently. Then the clouds parted about two weeks ago. She realized, or at least admitted to me that I was right about the relationship, his manipulations, and that she was scared because he was trying to make everyone think he got wronged her reputation would be damaged. Though I wanted to punch DB in the face, and do a victory dance cause she said I was right, I did not. I simply told her that she should trust that the people that knew her would know better and that no matter what she did, he was going to think what he wanted. She seemed on a mission to teach him that he can not treat people that way. Ever the handyman that girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, on to today. She has spend nearly every fucking minute texting this kid. Like she can not breathe with out some kind of contact. I WANT TO SHAKE HER LIKE A BABY. But I can&#39;t. I get so frustrated that I take her cereal bowl from her and slam it on the counter...yea that will teach her. I know full well that this strong willed small person resembling my daughter will do as she pleases. (where the hell does she get that from?) In the end all I can do Is let her be who she is and hope I taught her something that stuck BEFORE she turned 13.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/feeds/8351654404227627298/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2010/01/teach-your-kids-everything-before-they.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/8351654404227627298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2769074786333810440/posts/default/8351654404227627298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://return2saturn.blogspot.com/2010/01/teach-your-kids-everything-before-they.html' title='Teach your kids everything before they are 13'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17243206941264235259</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLdNLdqcnNQgMhp7zNIefCkJKbLIlO32SQ5SBbr4vKe4ez4mcWACLvhu2zbyWsYKXDbuBagV-H5r9OzPBrtXk5NbMPJszNh6u4uAPez8irvE10JKpBG6ImzGg9V7vRGFE/s220/WP_20130713_00120130713000505.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>