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<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7435152</id><updated>2009-10-13T07:49:33.555-04:00</updated><title type="text">Squirrel Stories</title><subtitle type="html">&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v375/elosquirrel/header.jpg"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25" /><author><name>E-Lo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>585</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><link rel="self" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/SquirrelStories" type="application/atom+xml" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com" /><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7435152.post-4545279779378718553</id><published>2009-10-01T10:52:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-01T18:36:04.417-04:00</updated><title type="text">Starting Over</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="Section1"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;" &gt;October marks the beginning of the fiscal year at the company that I work at. Not that I care much about all things fiscal, but the sense of starting fresh is always a good thing. I, for one, am always starting over. For all the good it does me, I might as well just keep on keepin’ on with what I’m doing, but it’s the thought that counts right?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;" &gt;Have I mentioned that Lyric, my smart, beautiful, crazy daughter has started pre-school? She’s been going for the past month, and it’s amazing to me. She loves school and often voices her disappointment about the fact that she can only go two days a week. And she’s like a sponge when it comes to new information. Do you know what I caught her doing the other night? Do you? SHE WAS WRITING HER NAME. Oh my god. How did that happen? How does my three year old know how to write? Of course, there are plenty of three year olds out there who are already reading, like, Harry Potter, and crap like that. But in that moment I felt like I had the smarter pre-schooler alive.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;" &gt;And when she gets frustrated? OMG. She’s worse than even her hot headed mother. I’ve been known to throw phones, kick doors, and one time I even broke the horn in my car by punching the steering wheel. I’m not even kidding you, I punched it so hard that the horn just stayed on, as if it were feeling my very emotions – blaring my angry thoughts until I pulled over and had to pull the fuse. Of course, that was after trying to punch it again to get it to stop. These days my anger fueled rages are tampered by prescription medication, but my kid? Not so much. After practicing her name a couple times and messing up a few letters, she flung the pad of paper and the pen all the way across the basement, and threw herself facedown on to the couch. But that’s pretty typical three year old behavior, right? RIGHT?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;" &gt;One problem that I’m faced with is her need for violence. She’s a mom abuser. Yes, I say that jokingly, but she does like to hit, push, and pinch. Particularly when she’s overly tired and doesn’t get her way. My arm just healed from a pinch that she planted on me a week ago, and last night, I went to take my book light out of her hand and she hauled off and slapped me across the face. HARD. I could feel the miniature handprint. It’s moments like those when me as a person and not as a mom bubbles to the surface and I physically see red for a moment. I swear it’s the hand of a higher power that holds me back and calms me down and allows me to say, “NO, YOU DON’T DO THAT,” and walk out of the room. Anyone but my child who would slap me would see the WRATH. Not pretty.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;" &gt;I still haven’t found the solution to the hitting/pinching/pushing problem. Thankfully there have been no reports of Lyric related violence from pre-school.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;" &gt;Overall, I’m amazed that this kid will be four in two months. And while I miss my cuddly baby, I’m liking the kid that’s developing, minus the violence, of course. She’s fun, and funny, and she sings! She totally lives up to her name with her musical abilities. We were watching Tarzan the other night – the one where Phil Collins does the soundtrack – and she sang along to all the songs. I was like, “how many times have you seen this?” She held up two fingers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_riiN9xpXy8A/SsUudY0Uu_I/AAAAAAAAAOE/UqEUFose_04/s1600-h/20090912_1521.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 251px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_riiN9xpXy8A/SsUudY0Uu_I/AAAAAAAAAOE/UqEUFose_04/s320/20090912_1521.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387763611631664114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7435152-4545279779378718553?l=squirrelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/4545279779378718553/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7435152&amp;postID=4545279779378718553" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/4545279779378718553" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/4545279779378718553" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SquirrelStories/~3/i_hz1biucSk/starting-over.html" title="Starting Over" /><author><name>E-Lo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00544355803631486917" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_riiN9xpXy8A/SsUudY0Uu_I/AAAAAAAAAOE/UqEUFose_04/s72-c/20090912_1521.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/2009/10/starting-over.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7435152.post-5491249154993990973</id><published>2009-08-26T14:04:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T14:05:23.582-04:00</updated><title type="text">Outrageous!</title><content type="html">&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_riiN9xpXy8A/SpV5JmjxGoI/AAAAAAAAANw/Ac-jXg-rDO8/s1600-h/outrageous.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 262px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_riiN9xpXy8A/SpV5JmjxGoI/AAAAAAAAANw/Ac-jXg-rDO8/s320/outrageous.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374334936212904578" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure the majority of the people that are friends with me on Facebook are sick to death of me posting articles and blurbs and stuff like this... but I can't help it. I voted for change, and THAT'S WHAT I WANT.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7435152-5491249154993990973?l=squirrelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/5491249154993990973/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7435152&amp;postID=5491249154993990973" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/5491249154993990973" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/5491249154993990973" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SquirrelStories/~3/49yu04s9sKs/outrageous.html" title="Outrageous!" /><author><name>E-Lo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00544355803631486917" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_riiN9xpXy8A/SpV5JmjxGoI/AAAAAAAAANw/Ac-jXg-rDO8/s72-c/outrageous.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/2009/08/outrageous.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7435152.post-6240505410935362166</id><published>2009-08-24T07:01:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T07:02:07.286-04:00</updated><title type="text">from our sponsors...</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://psychcentral.com/addquiz.htm"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://psychcentral.com/images/adhd_mild.gif" alt="Mild ADHD Possible" border="0" width="200" height="90" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7435152-6240505410935362166?l=squirrelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/6240505410935362166/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7435152&amp;postID=6240505410935362166" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/6240505410935362166" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/6240505410935362166" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SquirrelStories/~3/skLpUKnIwlk/from-our-sponsors.html" title="from our sponsors..." /><author><name>E-Lo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00544355803631486917" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/2009/08/from-our-sponsors.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7435152.post-1951117209968507865</id><published>2009-07-13T11:05:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-13T11:55:33.512-04:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="lasik" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="family" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="weight" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="marriage" /><title type="text">Weighty Issues</title><content type="html">It's been quite a couple of weeks. Things have been going BADLY in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. My eyes have regressed. I can no longer see without the aid of glasses. And the glasses that I have - oh my LORD. I so need to upload a photo of me in them. They're my mom's glasses from when she had her lasik done 10 years ago - the same thing happened to her eyes. Turns out that I have my mom's eyes - in more ways than one. We had the same prescription, surgery, and same regression. I'm going to have to have an enhancement done, which is fine. If my eyes keep the trend of following my mom's, I shouldn't have a problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. My jobs BLOW right now. End of story. And I'm so unmotivated. I'm not sure why I'm unmotivated. My new classes start today, and I have so many projects at work-work. The more projects I get, the less inclined I feel to work. It's a terrible downward spiral. I just want a vacation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. My relationship with my husband was getting rocky there for a while. There were lots of reasons, and I don't want to get into any of them, but I will admit that I was at fault for most of it. I'm a terrible communicator for someone who has a bachelors and masters in COMMUNICATION. I have to learn to put my fears to rest, and not let my insecurities get the best of me. Thankfully, we're better now than we have been in years, because we put everything out there and had some heart to heart conversations over the past few weeks. I'm very optimistic about US. We're a team.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Speaking of insecurities, I have some ISSUES with my ass. It's getting huge. It's amazing how quickly weight can creep back on to me since I had a kid. I was doing great for a while - going to the gym, keeping track of what I was doing with food... then I had my eye surgery and couldn't exercise for a few weeks, and my gym trips became pretty sporadic. And my thighs are once again out of control. I'm less than happy about this, so I just signed up for Weight Watchers online, and I really really hope I can stick it out. Because I have to do something. Oh, and pilates. Pilates helps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I woke up today with a new outlook. I need to get my shit together, and fast, because if I don't, the world will start crashing down on me. I've got to turn a new leaf, and I'm trying like hell. My main goal is to be a role model for my daughter - who isn't afraid to say, "mom, you have a big butt." She's the kick in the ass I've always needed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7435152-1951117209968507865?l=squirrelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/1951117209968507865/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7435152&amp;postID=1951117209968507865" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/1951117209968507865" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/1951117209968507865" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SquirrelStories/~3/o2SnqYhz1QM/weighty-issues.html" title="Weighty Issues" /><author><name>E-Lo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00544355803631486917" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/2009/07/weighty-issues.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7435152.post-7080278241038590419</id><published>2009-07-02T10:22:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-02T11:00:26.202-04:00</updated><title type="text">On Rebranding...</title><content type="html">My company is in the process of rebranding, something that they did a couple years back, just before I came on board as one of four graphic designers. Keep in mind we are a company of roughly 8,000 employees, all over the U.S. And now we have 5 designers. Hmm. So it falls on our team to redesign EVERY SINGLE ITEM that is in circulation internally and externally. The powers that be hired a large firm based out of NYC to come up with the new brand. Which brings up the question of market research. Did they do it? I have no idea, being a lowly graphic designer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Case in point - Tropicana.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_riiN9xpXy8A/SkzDh5yivcI/AAAAAAAAANQ/9kayh74d0aE/s1600-h/tropicana-packaging.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 292px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_riiN9xpXy8A/SkzDh5yivcI/AAAAAAAAANQ/9kayh74d0aE/s320/tropicana-packaging.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353869044252589506" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;image courtesy of http://blogs.ft.com/gapperblog/2009/02/pulp-friction-at-tropicana/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most people have noticed that they redesigned their cartons. But they failed in the market research department, because the public HATED the new design. So they're forced to go back to the boring old, straw in the orange design. Personally, I really like the design of the new carton. But I'm a graphic designer, and I appreciate contemporary design. But I do understand how this could look generic to consumers, and be confusing. And it earned a spot on &lt;a href="http://finance.yahoo.com/career-work/article/107261/dumbest-moments-in-business-2009-midyear-edition.html?mod=career-leadership"&gt;Yahoo's dumbest business moments of 2009. &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's the message here? Don't eff with what people KNOW. The average person is easily confused by this. I know that when I saw that Tropicana had a new design, I thought, that's cool, they're keeping up the the times. I think the old design is a bit dated - but it's what people know and trust. I've also learned that as a designer, it doesn't matter what I think - it matters what the audience thinks. So my expertise in all things graphical means jack shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we're in for an exciting, yet scary time with our rebrand. Of course, what we sell can't be bought in the cooler section of your local grocery store. Yet, we have an image that's out there, that people are familiar with, and it's scary to turn the page to something completely different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But hey, it's job security for me. Ha!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7435152-7080278241038590419?l=squirrelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/7080278241038590419/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7435152&amp;postID=7080278241038590419" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/7080278241038590419" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/7080278241038590419" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SquirrelStories/~3/fF8hT35qPOw/on-rebranding.html" title="On Rebranding..." /><author><name>E-Lo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00544355803631486917" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_riiN9xpXy8A/SkzDh5yivcI/AAAAAAAAANQ/9kayh74d0aE/s72-c/tropicana-packaging.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/2009/07/on-rebranding.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7435152.post-4278860228773907745</id><published>2009-06-30T11:56:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-30T12:27:19.123-04:00</updated><title type="text">feeling down, down, down</title><content type="html">Wow, yeah, it's been a month. I'm a terrible blogger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm feeling quite down on myself today - it seems like everything I try to do, I fail miserably at. I'm not sure what it is about me - I seem to be my own worst enemy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I need a creative hobby - not necessarily what I do for a living, which is designing all day. I'm so burnt out on ideas, I need something else to stoke my brain for a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AGGGGH. It's one of those days.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7435152-4278860228773907745?l=squirrelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/4278860228773907745/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7435152&amp;postID=4278860228773907745" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/4278860228773907745" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/4278860228773907745" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SquirrelStories/~3/yYsd7NFy_RI/feeling-down-down-down.html" title="feeling down, down, down" /><author><name>E-Lo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00544355803631486917" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/2009/06/feeling-down-down-down.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7435152.post-2068387640167472928</id><published>2009-05-28T10:13:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-28T10:21:40.536-04:00</updated><title type="text">32 boo hoo hoo</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/elosquirrel/3571742900/" title="day 1 - 365 by Elosquirrel, on Flickr"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3658/3571742900_6484d3f17b.jpg" alt="day 1 - 365" width="500" height="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Day 1 of 365 - Happy Birthday to me!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My birthday was not all that great yesterday. It started out fantastic, then my husband's grandmother died. She was one of the sweetest little old ladies that I've ever known, so that was a definite bummer - to put it lightly. She and Ryan's grandpa were married somewhere around 60 years, so I'm mostly concerned about him - when you spend that amount of time with someone and one day they're suddenly gone, what do you do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Couple that with the fact that Lyric puked all over me in a restaurant. I'm not talking about a little baby spit up here, people, I'm talking full fledged projectile vomit. In Rey Azteca, where my mom took us for my birthday dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was quite ready to have a beer by the time I got home. Unfortunately, me and Papst Blue Ribbon don't get along, and that's all that was in my fridge. I really wanted - and still do - a Corona. And a hammock on the beach. I really had some Calgon take me away moments on my birthday, let me tell you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the plus side I did find out that my vision is perfectly 20/20 and my eyes are healing up well. Yay me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7435152-2068387640167472928?l=squirrelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/2068387640167472928/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7435152&amp;postID=2068387640167472928" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/2068387640167472928" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/2068387640167472928" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SquirrelStories/~3/G0xZgcjaaz8/32-boo-hoo-hoo.html" title="32 boo hoo hoo" /><author><name>E-Lo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00544355803631486917" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/2009/05/32-boo-hoo-hoo.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7435152.post-1921394840231235905</id><published>2009-05-26T08:46:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-26T08:55:04.378-04:00</updated><title type="text">New Project time!</title><content type="html">So last Wednesday, I had my lasik surgery. It was the COOLEST. I'm typing this without any help from glasses or contacts - and I can see great. My eyes are still healing, and they'll gradually get better with time, but as of now - they're completely awesome. I love it. Best thing I've ever done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm starting a new project tomorrow - it's my birthday. I'm going to do a 365 project - take a photo of myself every day and post to Flickr. I've seen so many of them, and I think it's kind of cool - a little self absorbed, but that suits me well. But the thing is, I suck at doing things on a daily basis, so this is going to be a challenge for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALSO - it's been two weeks since I've been at the gym, and that's killing me. I'm allowed to return tomorrow, my BIRTHDAY. I need to start going at LEAST four times a week. So that's another challenge I'm up for. My last years summer clothes are still a little tight (god, how much weight can a woman gain in a winter?), so I need to crack down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's on!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7435152-1921394840231235905?l=squirrelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/1921394840231235905/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7435152&amp;postID=1921394840231235905" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/1921394840231235905" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/1921394840231235905" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SquirrelStories/~3/oFl4elsxqUA/new-project-time.html" title="New Project time!" /><author><name>E-Lo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00544355803631486917" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/2009/05/new-project-time.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7435152.post-1553390673722679291</id><published>2009-05-11T12:35:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-11T12:43:50.989-04:00</updated><title type="text">Elo Lexenstar</title><content type="html">So... there are some definite dangers when it comes to Second Life. Like - the fact that it's crack? Yeah, that's one. My fingers itch for my laptop when I'm home - why it's so addicting, I'm not even sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok so... ahem. Yeah. I'm an SL vampire now. Unfortunately not a very good one - although I have been kind of busy in the past week BUILDING MY SECOND LIFE HOUSE. WTF.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God, I need to get a life. A FIRST life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_riiN9xpXy8A/SghUy2GbsZI/AAAAAAAAAMM/KJh9rpGQkdg/s1600-h/Snapshot_063.png"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 190px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_riiN9xpXy8A/SghUy2GbsZI/AAAAAAAAAMM/KJh9rpGQkdg/s320/Snapshot_063.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334606991113040274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Elo has gotten a little slutty since embracing the vampire lifestyle... hello nipples!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_riiN9xpXy8A/SghVG2vdkoI/AAAAAAAAAMU/4zR0reeMTo8/s1600-h/Snapshot_066.png"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 190px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_riiN9xpXy8A/SghVG2vdkoI/AAAAAAAAAMU/4zR0reeMTo8/s320/Snapshot_066.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334607334882513538" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;This is what makes it tough to be a vamp... lots of discrimination - LOL!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_riiN9xpXy8A/SghVi6y8dhI/AAAAAAAAAMc/VukSspMR7Qc/s1600-h/Snapshot_071.png"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 190px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_riiN9xpXy8A/SghVi6y8dhI/AAAAAAAAAMc/VukSspMR7Qc/s320/Snapshot_071.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334607817007199762" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Elo hanging out in her vampire clan's land...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GEEK MUCH?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7435152-1553390673722679291?l=squirrelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/1553390673722679291/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7435152&amp;postID=1553390673722679291" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/1553390673722679291" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/1553390673722679291" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SquirrelStories/~3/iq13NvTb8tw/elo-lexenstar.html" title="Elo Lexenstar" /><author><name>E-Lo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00544355803631486917" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_riiN9xpXy8A/SghUy2GbsZI/AAAAAAAAAMM/KJh9rpGQkdg/s72-c/Snapshot_063.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/2009/05/elo-lexenstar.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7435152.post-7464422717836424015</id><published>2009-04-13T15:01:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-13T15:02:54.756-04:00</updated><title type="text">Old House on the Hill</title><content type="html">This is the story of the place that I call home – a mid century Cape Cod that sits at the top of 10th Street in East Butler, in close proximity to the baseball fields. It’s a house that’s going on around 60 years old, and believe me, it shows its age.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband and I purchased our house in July of 2006, and receiving the key at the end of our closing (in which our real estate agents provided pizza and beer), was one of the best moments in my life, short of my wedding day and giving birth to my daughter Lyric. One thing that I always knew that I wanted to do was buy a house, but I never thought that it would actually happen. The possibilities for home ownership were endless. My husband and I had always rented – from our first tiny efficiency with a spider infestation, to an apartment in a building that had faulty wiring, to a very strange haunted house, to one wayward mobile home with horribly unfriendly neighbors that we rudely nicknamed “the Mullets”... we always had to deal with landlords. I don’t know what it is about me, but landlords and I don’t mix. I don’t think it has anything to do with my personality, because I’m pretty easygoing – I just think I’ve always had horrible landlords. So you can understand my profound excitement at becoming the “lord” so to speak, of my own land.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We knew going into this, that our house was old – but my husband and I fell in love with it and did everything we could to get it. The neighborhood is perfect – there’s a lot of kids around and my daughter has a nice yard to play in. Summer is a busy time in my neighborhood, what with all the baseball games going on. We have great neighbors, particularly our next door neighbors, who go as far as leaving Lyric Easter baskets on the back porch, and invite us over to go swimming in their pool in the summer. But have I mentioned that our house is OLD? Old with a capital OLD old? And with any old house, there’s LOTS of renovations to do – capital LOTS lots. Renovating our house has been a slow process. The thing is, I have lots of ideas, and not a clue how to make them happen, and my husband – well, he has tools but not much of an idea how to use them. See, if it were up to me – these things would be done in my own creative way – but I have this large thing holding me back – my husband. He wants to do things the “right” way, whatever that means. So that involves saving money and crap like that – you know, things normal people do. But I have no patience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first thing we did was make the basement livable – we knew that we were going to have Lyric’s first birthday party at our new house, so we wanted there to be some room for people to hang out. We painted the walls down there, and the floors, built a bar out of the old workbench in the corner – it was like a whole new place. Of course now, three years later, it all needs redone, but it works for what it is, as my husband calls it – “the mancave,” where he hangs out and his band practices. The kitchen was our second project – we started on that two years ago – replacing the carpet (who puts a carpet in a kitchen?) with new flooring, painting the walls – and really – it’s my favorite room in the house, because I made it mine in many ways – the color scheme was my idea, and yes, it still needs work – the oven is a Hotpoint drop-in from the 1970’s, and that will be replaced this summer, along with the countertops. Eventually we’ll get around to replacing the cabinets and adding an island, but at the rate we’re going, I look for my daughter – who is three right now- to be in high school by then. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bathroom is another story completely. Our bathroom is the bane of my existence. There’s linoleum tiles on the floor that are coming up, paneling on the walls – and a bathtub that was never meant to have a shower – have I mentioned the paneling? Yeah, it’s paneled around the tub. With a window right smack in the middle of it. And when paneling gets wet??? Well, let’s just say it’s ugly. The whole room is a drab grey. When it’s done it might possibly be the brightest room in the house – I have a palette of turquoise and coral in mind. See, what’s hard for me is being a creative person, someone who designs things everyday, having no control over my home. I’m itching to just paint the walls – another argument that my husband and I have – almost all the walls in my house are covered with 1970’s paneling – or PLASTER. No drywall. Anywhere. My living room is covered in a lovely – please sense my sarcasm – wood colored paneling. And my husband LOVES it. I hate it. He won’t get rid of it. The carpet was at one time WHITE. Yeah – try having a cheap white carpet with a toddler, a golden retriever, a black cat, and a husband who paves roads. It doesn’t work. I think the majority of my house strife would be eased if I could just get new carpeting, preferably a shade of brown in a premium brand of StainMaster. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now we’re working on converting what was once a spare bedroom into the computer room, and what was once a room the size of a closet where we previously had the computer into a utility room – no more going down the rickety basement stairs to do laundry. Yeah, the basement stairs need replaced. The roof will be replaced this summer – along with hopefully the siding, and with any luck, the windows, which are very drafty. I might have to get several part time jobs to make this happen, but it will happen. We’re to the point now where I think my husband is ready just to give up, sell the house, and buy a brand new house just to get out of doing what I’m asking of him. His motto previously was, “we have 30 years on our mortgage! There’s no need to rush!” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But here’s the thing I’ve learned – our house may not be perfect, and the way it looks might annoy me, probably because I don’t have my own cleaning lady, but it’s where my daughter has taken her first steps, where we’ve had many get togethers with friends... there are so many memories that have taken place in the past three years, that there’s no where else that I would call home. The saying, “home is where the heart is?” now I know exactly what that means, and my heart is in that old house on top of the hill in East Butler.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Toastmasters project #4&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7435152-7464422717836424015?l=squirrelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/7464422717836424015/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7435152&amp;postID=7464422717836424015" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/7464422717836424015" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/7464422717836424015" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SquirrelStories/~3/kKcrqR6YXyo/old-house-on-hill.html" title="Old House on the Hill" /><author><name>E-Lo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00544355803631486917" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/2009/04/old-house-on-hill.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7435152.post-6799847665011591857</id><published>2009-04-08T16:38:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-08T16:40:39.317-04:00</updated><title type="text">First Life and Second Life updates</title><content type="html">Wow, I’ve really fallen off the wagon when it comes to this blog. Three years ago, if you would have told me that I could live without posting here, I’d say you were crazy. Now this little corner of my world is dust covered and musty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t think I’ve talked about how I’m determined to become a better public speaker. I joined Toastmasters at work – we get together once every couple of weeks and give speeches. I’ve never been the best with public speaking – or speaking in general – I’m typically pretty awkward. But I’ve found this to be incredibly helpful, and now I look forward to getting up in front of my little group.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first time I ever had to give a speech was in high school English class. I can’t even remember what I was supposed to talk about. I think I was somewhat prepared, notes-wise, but when I got in front of the class, I blanked, and I practically passed out from sheer terror. Not to mention the fact that I’m naturally kind of shy and socially awkward. Needless to say, I never got in front of a group again until I was forced to take Speech in college.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m scheduled to give my fourth speech next week – there’s a total of 10 speech projects until you’re titled a “Competent Communicator.” I’m determined to make it there. And what’s really crazy about all this, considering my past experiences, is that I’m pretty good at it. I’m kind of a natural when it comes to being in front of a crowd. I guess I missed my calling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, what should I give my next speech on?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another thing I’ve recently fallen into the abyss of is Second Life – and if you haven’t played it, you should try it – and I can only hope you don’t have the addictive personality that I have, because I can’t tear myself away – as if I HAVE any extra time. It’s bascially a virtual world – you create your avatar and make friends and dress up and you can buy things and start businesses, and it’s CRAZY. I’m Elo Lexenstar if anyone wants to look me up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/elosquirrel/3420492274/" title="Second Life avatar by Elosquirrel, on Flickr"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3390/3420492274_d4e75db48e_o.png" alt="Second Life avatar" width="386" height="566" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Elo Lexenstar... she's so cute!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Lator gators - see ya next month! Just kidding. Or am I?&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7435152-6799847665011591857?l=squirrelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/6799847665011591857/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7435152&amp;postID=6799847665011591857" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/6799847665011591857" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/6799847665011591857" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SquirrelStories/~3/5VETe7ScEgk/first-life-and-second-life-updates.html" title="First Life and Second Life updates" /><author><name>E-Lo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00544355803631486917" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/2009/04/first-life-and-second-life-updates.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7435152.post-6874331181957848816</id><published>2009-03-12T14:56:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-12T14:57:50.695-04:00</updated><title type="text">In like a lion, but I'm out like a lamb</title><content type="html">&lt;meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"&gt;&lt;meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"&gt;&lt;meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"&gt;&lt;meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"&gt;&lt;link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CERICA%7E1.LOR%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:worddocument&gt;   &lt;w:view&gt;Normal&lt;/w:View&gt;   &lt;w:zoom&gt;0&lt;/w:Zoom&gt;   &lt;w:punctuationkerning/&gt;   &lt;w:validateagainstschemas/&gt;   &lt;w:saveifxmlinvalid&gt;false&lt;/w:SaveIfXMLInvalid&gt;   &lt;w:ignoremixedcontent&gt;false&lt;/w:IgnoreMixedContent&gt;   &lt;w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext&gt;false&lt;/w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText&gt;   &lt;w:compatibility&gt;    &lt;w:breakwrappedtables/&gt;    &lt;w:snaptogridincell/&gt;    &lt;w:wraptextwithpunct/&gt;    &lt;w:useasianbreakrules/&gt;    &lt;w:dontgrowautofit/&gt;   &lt;/w:Compatibility&gt;   &lt;w:browserlevel&gt;MicrosoftInternetExplorer4&lt;/w:BrowserLevel&gt;  &lt;/w:WordDocument&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"&gt;  &lt;/w:LatentStyles&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;style&gt; &lt;!--  /* Font Definitions */  @font-face 	{font-family:"Century Gothic"; 	panose-1:2 11 5 2 2 2 2 2 2 4; 	mso-font-charset:0; 	mso-generic-font-family:swiss; 	mso-font-pitch:variable; 	mso-font-signature:647 0 0 0 159 0;}  /* Style Definitions */  p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal 	{mso-style-parent:""; 	margin:0in; 	margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:12.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} span.EmailStyle15 	{mso-style-type:personal; 	mso-style-noshow:yes; 	mso-ansi-font-size:10.0pt; 	mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt; 	font-family:"Century Gothic"; 	mso-ascii-font-family:"Century Gothic"; 	mso-hansi-font-family:"Century Gothic"; 	color:gray; 	font-weight:normal; 	font-style:normal; 	text-decoration:none; 	text-underline:none; 	text-decoration:none; 	text-line-through:none;} @page Section1 	{size:8.5in 11.0in; 	margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; 	mso-header-margin:.5in; 	mso-footer-margin:.5in; 	mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 	{page:Section1;} --&gt; &lt;/style&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable 	{mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; 	mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; 	mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; 	mso-style-noshow:yes; 	mso-style-parent:""; 	mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; 	mso-para-margin:0in; 	mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:10.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-ansi-language:#0400; 	mso-fareast-language:#0400; 	mso-bidi-language:#0400;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:100%;color:gray;"   &gt;Remember how I joined a gym? That’s going pretty well. I’ve neither lost weight nor gained weight, which sucks (the part about not losing, that is). I’ve gotten a little stronger along the way. My legs are definitely a lot stronger. Which is good. I can pick Lyric up and carry her around a little longer, which at 40 pounds, is pretty significant.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:100%;color:gray;"   &gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:100%;color:gray;"   &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:100%;color:gray;"   &gt;This week I’ve been so tired. The time change once again killed me. I’ve been oversleeping, turning off my alarm, all the regular things that happen when my body can’t adjust. I’ve been floating through this day in a sleep deprived haze – I don’t remember feeling this tired since I had Lyric. On Monday I went to the gym and almost died. I couldn’t run. Not sure why – I’ve been working my way up to running for a while now. I listen to podrunner intervals on my ipod, which is fantastic, it’s a great way to build up stamina without pushing yourself too far. Monday (and pretty much every day) my right knee and foot were killing me, and I just couldn’t do it. I haven’t been to the gym since, not because I’ve given up, but because Lyric has been sick, and when she’s sick, it’s all about Mommy – she wants nothing to do with anyone else.
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:100%;color:gray;"   &gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:100%;color:gray;"   &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:10;color:gray;"   &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I know I need to go today, but I’m just SO TIRED. I’ve probably yawned 20 times since I started typing this. Gotta wake up... but first, a nap. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7435152-6874331181957848816?l=squirrelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/6874331181957848816/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7435152&amp;postID=6874331181957848816" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/6874331181957848816" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/6874331181957848816" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SquirrelStories/~3/kUC6xWN4ny0/in-like-lion-but-im-out-like-lamb.html" title="In like a lion, but I'm out like a lamb" /><author><name>E-Lo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00544355803631486917" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/2009/03/in-like-lion-but-im-out-like-lamb.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7435152.post-6276321343951808598</id><published>2009-02-19T22:58:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-19T23:12:03.357-05:00</updated><title type="text">Overtime... the benefit of being an hourly employee</title><content type="html">Last week, I packed my jet setter self up and headed off to Fort Lauderdale for a long week of work. We had our annual "Leadership" conference for work, and as usual, since I'm not a leader at my job by any means, my department was there for video and photo support. This was my second leadership conference and it probably won't be my last - it's kind of cool being surrounded by the highest executives at my company and being recognized for the behind the scenes stuff that my department takes care of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You might think one of the downfalls of this is that I'm there to actually work - and by work I mean working intensely - not the normal sitting in front of a computer designing - this entails running around, making sure AV equipment is working, running a video camera, directing cameras from the switcher, making last minute changes to presentations - and getting paid some sweet overtime. I had 37.5 hours of overtime last week. And I got to be in FLORIDA. It was 80 degrees and sunny. I got beers bought for me all week by my bosses. I got to have dinner and drinks on a yacht. I got a free hour massage at the spa at our hotel. Free lunch and dinner all week (and oh my gaaaaaah - it was good food). So there are some definite perks to taking this trip on a yearly basis, regardless of the fact that I'm there to work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that I'm back to the "normal" grind, I've found myself in the odd position of taking over some of the responsiblities of my manager as she heads up another project. This morning I spent a few hours just getting myself organized to actually take on this task. One of my worst traits is that I'm horribly unorganized with my projects - but now, I get to dish them out AND remember who's working on them, when they're due, and follow up on them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it's been an interesting few weeks in my work life. Plus I started teaching 2 new online classes today. It's no wonder that Lyric has been running around my in circles screaming, "mama, mama, mama! Look at me! Look at me!" I think she's feeling a little neglected. If only it were a little easier to balance career/motherhood. It would make life a lot less messy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7435152-6276321343951808598?l=squirrelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/6276321343951808598/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7435152&amp;postID=6276321343951808598" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/6276321343951808598" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/6276321343951808598" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SquirrelStories/~3/CZc4Gqt7o50/overtime-benefit-of-being-hourly.html" title="Overtime... the benefit of being an hourly employee" /><author><name>E-Lo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00544355803631486917" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/2009/02/overtime-benefit-of-being-hourly.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7435152.post-7640640468945964153</id><published>2009-02-04T23:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T23:06:08.306-05:00</updated><title type="text">Dear Deer</title><content type="html">&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/EOUEjiE6-Hk&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/EOUEjiE6-Hk&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7435152-7640640468945964153?l=squirrelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/7640640468945964153/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7435152&amp;postID=7640640468945964153" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/7640640468945964153" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/7640640468945964153" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SquirrelStories/~3/U3vGeIGUGLQ/dear-deer.html" title="Dear Deer" /><author><name>E-Lo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00544355803631486917" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/2009/02/dear-deer.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7435152.post-120847867254952645</id><published>2009-02-02T14:22:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-02T14:28:26.749-05:00</updated><title type="text">Listening...</title><content type="html">To &lt;a href="http://www.myspace.com/idamaria"&gt;Ida Maria&lt;/a&gt; - the song OhMyGod is fan-freaking-tastic. I can't wait until iTunes actually has her music. If you haven't heard of her - it's no surprise as she's Norwegian. I mean, how many musicians from Norway actually get popular in the U.S.?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How about those Steelers??? Have I mentioned that yet today? Oh, I did? Ok, cool.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7435152-120847867254952645?l=squirrelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/120847867254952645/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7435152&amp;postID=120847867254952645" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/120847867254952645" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/120847867254952645" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SquirrelStories/~3/ooIEabJsEIA/listening.html" title="Listening..." /><author><name>E-Lo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00544355803631486917" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/2009/02/listening.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7435152.post-2403129245113626141</id><published>2009-02-02T07:08:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-02T07:09:53.884-05:00</updated><title type="text">Yinz Guys Were Great N'at!</title><content type="html">&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_riiN9xpXy8A/SYbiYeguJXI/AAAAAAAAALs/Vx0ck8U88uM/s1600-h/1233561348.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 310px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_riiN9xpXy8A/SYbiYeguJXI/AAAAAAAAALs/Vx0ck8U88uM/s320/1233561348.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298170921783010674" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YAY STEELERS!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7435152-2403129245113626141?l=squirrelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/2403129245113626141/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7435152&amp;postID=2403129245113626141" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/2403129245113626141" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/2403129245113626141" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SquirrelStories/~3/AA2K0I5ouxg/yinz-guys-were-great-nat.html" title="Yinz Guys Were Great N'at!" /><author><name>E-Lo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00544355803631486917" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_riiN9xpXy8A/SYbiYeguJXI/AAAAAAAAALs/Vx0ck8U88uM/s72-c/1233561348.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/2009/02/yinz-guys-were-great-nat.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7435152.post-7280330569159952272</id><published>2009-01-30T15:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-30T15:08:16.042-05:00</updated><title type="text">Video of the Week</title><content type="html">&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/h05ZQ7WHw8Y&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/h05ZQ7WHw8Y&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7435152-7280330569159952272?l=squirrelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/7280330569159952272/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7435152&amp;postID=7280330569159952272" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/7280330569159952272" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/7280330569159952272" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SquirrelStories/~3/626tbaaMcZc/video-of-week.html" title="Video of the Week" /><author><name>E-Lo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00544355803631486917" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/2009/01/video-of-week.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7435152.post-3147667503519856811</id><published>2009-01-20T21:54:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-20T22:02:49.857-05:00</updated><title type="text">Gym time, gym time... lalala!</title><content type="html">God, what a horrible title for a post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aaahhh... yeah. So I joined a gym. Something I've wanted to do for ages, but never really got around to. Now that I'm paying almost 50 bucks a month, I want to make it worth my while - so I feel compelled to go every stinkin' day. I'm on day 2 of my membership, mind you. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But seriously, I think I've taken a step in the right direction. As my co-workers and I are wont to do, we were bitching today about our weight issues (we usually bitch while getting greasy lunch somewhere - thankfully today I wasn't getting greasy lunch, but just rode along). I was talking about how I discovered that I weigh exactly the same as I did this time last year, but I can't fit into the same pants I was wearing back then. How is that possible?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my "workouts" have only included walking and jogging intervals on the treadmills so far, but it's a lot better than what I've been doing, which is nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I joined for a year! So that means, if I don't go, I'm definitely going to feel guilty. And probably get a lot of shit from my husband about wasting money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Updates to come on my gym experience. This is the first time in 9 years that I've been to a gym. I'm pretty excited!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7435152-3147667503519856811?l=squirrelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/3147667503519856811/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7435152&amp;postID=3147667503519856811" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/3147667503519856811" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/3147667503519856811" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SquirrelStories/~3/CEZridraF54/gym-time-gym-time-lalala.html" title="Gym time, gym time... lalala!" /><author><name>E-Lo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00544355803631486917" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/2009/01/gym-time-gym-time-lalala.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7435152.post-2957623755398073869</id><published>2009-01-13T14:45:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-13T16:06:32.260-05:00</updated><title type="text">4 Eyed E-Lo</title><content type="html">Friday I had an eye doctor appointment - my first in two years. I regularly wear contacts - gas permeable because my eyes are so horrible. They've even dropped a point down to -9 or however that goes since the last time I had my eyes checked. Needless to say, I'm blind as shit. Because shit doesn't have eyes. And if it did, that would be way creepy. But I've been wearing my contacts for 20 years! Since I was 12! And now? Now I'm planning on getting my eyes LASERED. With a LASER.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, in order to do that, I have to wear my glasses ONE MONTH for every TEN YEARS that I've worn my contacts - at a minimum. Because contacts - especially gas permeable ones - change the shape of your eyeball, or something like that. And after two months of wearing my glasses, I go back to the doctor to get evaluated to see if I even QUALIFY to have the surgery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can I tell you how bad it SUCKS wearing glasses when your eyes are as bad as mine? Especially after I mostly wore contacts for all those years? I haven't worn glasses full time since sixth grade. And it's hard to see out of mine. But I ordered new ones, since my insurance covered it. I will hopefully have them in a week or so. They look like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_riiN9xpXy8A/SW0AkUfC1SI/AAAAAAAAALQ/TvLh3TFa2Dw/s1600-h/al.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 115px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_riiN9xpXy8A/SW0AkUfC1SI/AAAAAAAAALQ/TvLh3TFa2Dw/s320/al.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290885761204409634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_riiN9xpXy8A/SW0Aj5bJY_I/AAAAAAAAALI/_WHAZI2UONQ/s1600-h/Picture+1.png"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 126px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_riiN9xpXy8A/SW0Aj5bJY_I/AAAAAAAAALI/_WHAZI2UONQ/s320/Picture+1.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290885753940304882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, they're pretty cute. Cuter than the ones I have now, which look like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_riiN9xpXy8A/SW0A6D6g84I/AAAAAAAAALY/-qAv7bxskqs/s1600-h/ELoinglasses.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 229px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_riiN9xpXy8A/SW0A6D6g84I/AAAAAAAAALY/-qAv7bxskqs/s320/ELoinglasses.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290886134713348994" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;My new facebook photo!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which aren't too bad, but after 2 years of a baby/toddler pulling them off my face, they're a little on the warped side. The thing that sucks most is putting my makeup on in the morning. Because have I mentioned I can't see without glasses or contacts? And putting on eye makeup without either involves me having my face pressed against the mirror?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AND, AND, AND, I'm going to Florida next month. That's right, FLORIDA. Land of sun and beaches and ohmigod I can't wear sunglasses and my eyes are super sensitive to the sun and it's gonna suck so bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully, on March 20, I'll find that I'm a prime candidate for this surgery (which I should be, there's no reason I wouldn't be, as my eye doctor said, "you have perfectly healthy eyes, you just can't see!"), and it will be so worth it to have 20/20 vision again. The day that I wake up, roll over, and am able to see my alarm clock perfectly is going to be FAN-FREAKING-TASTIC!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7435152-2957623755398073869?l=squirrelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/2957623755398073869/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7435152&amp;postID=2957623755398073869" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/2957623755398073869" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/2957623755398073869" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SquirrelStories/~3/rfJVRO976u0/4-eyed-e-lo.html" title="4 Eyed E-Lo" /><author><name>E-Lo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00544355803631486917" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_riiN9xpXy8A/SW0AkUfC1SI/AAAAAAAAALQ/TvLh3TFa2Dw/s72-c/al.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/2009/01/4-eyed-e-lo.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7435152.post-5421985482491680538</id><published>2009-01-11T11:21:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T11:55:08.874-05:00</updated><title type="text">On trying to feel normal and not succeeding...</title><content type="html">The last couple of days have been increasingly frustrating for me, and I feel incredibly guilty because of it. The cause of my frustration is Lyric, who definitely can be sweet as pie and I love her dearly. I realize that I work all week, and when I'm around she just wants to be near me, but the past few days have felt almost like that one time I was dating that guy that really didn't let me breathe. She's got to be on top of me at all times, and if she's not, she's saying, "mama, mama, mama, mama," on repeat. The level of annoyance I feel makes me wonder if my meds have stopped working - yesterday I was ready to throw myself into oncoming traffic. Instead, I put my ipod in my ears and set about cleaning the bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it wrong that I feel this way? Because I feel totally wrong. There are moments that I'd love to just be able to be alone - to be able to check my email or update my facebook status without a little person constantly tugging on my arm or trying to crawl into my lap. I know she loves me - I've already heard it from my mom, because I admitted to her the other day that I just called her and put her on speakerphone so Lyric would leave the room I was in - she hates talking to any of her grandparents on the phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love my kid - I really do. But when is it "me" time? Ryan is laid off right now, and he spends the day with her - he gets to go out at night and hang out and do whatever. It's the classic situation of becoming a mother - my life is either work or being mom. It doesn't leave time for much else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just had to get my frustration out - as hard as it is to type with a squirming three year old in your lap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will say that yesterday we had a great snowstorm - probably close to a foot of snow. Lyric and I went outside and played, and I found it really fun to run uncontrollably through the snow and just let myself fall. Lyric thought that was hysterical.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7435152-5421985482491680538?l=squirrelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/5421985482491680538/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7435152&amp;postID=5421985482491680538" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/5421985482491680538" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/5421985482491680538" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SquirrelStories/~3/RAKa5-usxg8/on-trying-to-feel-normal-and-not.html" title="On trying to feel normal and not succeeding..." /><author><name>E-Lo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00544355803631486917" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/2009/01/on-trying-to-feel-normal-and-not.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7435152.post-3622069807655889411</id><published>2009-01-05T19:08:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-06T13:11:43.960-05:00</updated><title type="text">On Resolving (or Resoluting?)</title><content type="html">A few more things I wanted to add to my list...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take more pictures. Yeah, if you look at my flickr page, you know I already do this. But out of the thousands of pictures I took last year, I like maybe a handful of them. Only two of them don't involve my daughter, or people at all. So I resolve to become a better photographer - starting with this &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Canon-Digital-Rebel-Field-Guide/dp/0470110074/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;s=books&amp;amp;qid=1231200658&amp;amp;sr=8-1"&gt;book&lt;/a&gt;. I just learned on Saturday how to get my camera to shoot in RAW - and I've owned it for a year. C'mon, now. GAWD.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Run a 5K. I've been thinking about this for a while. There's one at the end of March in Cook Forest. Think I can be ready? It would be a really great excuse to take Red out running - and if there's anyone besides me in this house that needs to lose a few, it's Red. He's definitely got a handle on the three Fs - Furry, Friendly, and FAT. However, I still want to convince my husband that I NEED A TREADMILL. HELLLLLOOO??? TREADMILL!!! And it's COLD out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Discover new music. I'm constantly doing this, but I'm going to keep at it. Today was my first iTunes purchase of 09 (also resolving to only use iTunes cards to purchase music - using my bank account is messy), and I'm loving the band: &lt;a href="http://www.myspace.com/doesitoffendyou"&gt;Does it Offend You, Yeah?&lt;/a&gt; My drive home was much happier and faster with that album.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Get my green thumb back. I'm not sure why, but lately my green thumb has gotten brown. I used to have quite and extensive plant collection, and they're pretty much all dying off. I think it's because the kittens peed in them though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm also expanding my horizons as a designer - today was Day 1 of my three day Flash training. So far, so good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've read 6 books in the past 3 weeks. LOVE being off from school. Only one week of slacker time left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Lyric and I just planted our first Chia pet. A first for both of us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a good start to the new year so far. And my husband wants a Wii! FINALLY!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7435152-3622069807655889411?l=squirrelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/3622069807655889411/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7435152&amp;postID=3622069807655889411" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/3622069807655889411" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/3622069807655889411" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SquirrelStories/~3/V8tB_J2gP4A/on-resolving-or-resoluting.html" title="On Resolving (or Resoluting?)" /><author><name>E-Lo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00544355803631486917" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/2009/01/on-resolving-or-resoluting.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7435152.post-3637972674888771691</id><published>2008-12-31T19:22:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-31T19:46:02.867-05:00</updated><title type="text">New Years Eve Reflections in E-Loville</title><content type="html">This is the quiet time of year, before our guests arrive and the party starts, where I think about the year that has passed and reflect on life, and look forward to the year ahead. I have many resolutions, and I'm definitely looking forward to 2009. Not that 2008 has been a bad year by any means, but it hasn't been the greatest for me, personally. The upcoming year is going to focus a lot on me, personally and professionally. I know it seems like I focus on me a lot, but this is my blog. It's about me. In real life, my work and being a mom takes most of my time, and I've let my own needs slip a bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Resolution 1: Become more stylish. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is really easier said than done. Since I started my job 2 years ago, I've really started to slack on what I wear every day. I used to have a specific style, and be kind of cute in how I dressed. But now, since my work environment is so casual, I've taken to wearing jeans and hoodies every day. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I just feel the need to get a little of my groove back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Resolution 2: Take better care of myself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's a lot behind this resolution. Everyone knows my weight struggle since become a mom and a full time computer sitter. Everyone also knows my struggle with my self image. I'm going to work on that. A lot. Of course this year might find me with Fuzzball number 2 in my uterus, so we'll see how that goes. But a big part of this is eating healthier. Not dieting, per se, but I need to start cooking more. I WANT to start cooking more. I'm sick of the same old shit we eat every day. I may become a culinary genius like my brother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This resolution also contains me getting my eyes fixed. I have a doctor's appointment on January 9 to see about getting lasik surgery. Which means 2 months of wearing glasses full time, since I've worn gas permeable contacts for 20 years. My eyes are the suck. But hopefully I'll get some cute frames and go from there. I have $1500 set aside for this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Resolution 3: No spending $$ on stupid shit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get a lot of slack from my husband for this, so I'm going to taper down my spending.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Resolution 4: Get organized.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our house is usually pile after pile of crap. When there's nowhere to put more crap, the piles become bigger. We got a jumpstart on this already by taking a huge load over to Goodwill yesterday, and we're going to write that off on our taxes. Not only did we lighten our load quite a bit, but we also cleaned out some much needed space. This also includes getting our house into some order. Redecorating is in my future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I think that's really it. Resolution-wise. I have lots of things I'm looking forward to this upcoming year, like maybe trying to get pregnant (yes, actually trying instead of just accidentally doing it!), traveling a bit (hopefully we'll get to go see Greg and Starr soon - who I miss a lot right now, because they're in New York and they're usually at my house for New Years. *sniff*), and who knows what else?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's strange how when the holiday season ends, the first day of the new year kind of feels cold and empty, doesn't it? Or is it just me? Maybe it has something to do with the weather, or the fact that you might have a bit of a hangover, or just that you have nothing much to look forward to (except all the life changing resolutions that will last about a week). But tonight - tonight is the one night of the year when I know I'll ship my kiddo off to my mama's and be able to live it up. Tonight is about friends and being together. And who cares what tomorrow brings... whether it's good or bad, tonight I get to just be me. Erica. Not mom, not graphic designer, not instructor - just goofy me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that feels good. But just for tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy New Year!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7435152-3637972674888771691?l=squirrelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/3637972674888771691/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7435152&amp;postID=3637972674888771691" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/3637972674888771691" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/3637972674888771691" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SquirrelStories/~3/lRVIEiGF9D0/new-years-eve-reflections-in-e-loville.html" title="New Years Eve Reflections in E-Loville" /><author><name>E-Lo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00544355803631486917" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/2008/12/new-years-eve-reflections-in-e-loville.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7435152.post-4698806237409604070</id><published>2008-12-29T12:47:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-29T12:59:56.414-05:00</updated><title type="text">Holiday Magic</title><content type="html">Oh... hi. A lot has been going on around these parts, and needless to say, I've been very busy. Finishing up classes and turning in final grades - getting projects done at work, not to mention the endless cleaning up after a small tornado that rips through my house every waking moment of the day. A very very CUTE tornado, at least.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/elosquirrel/3148085070/" title="IMG_7812 by Elosquirrel, on Flickr"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3097/3148085070_fb264f6db5.jpg" alt="IMG_7812" height="333" width="500" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christmas this year was probably the best one ever. We stayed at home, and it was fantastic. Lyric was able to relax and play with all of her new stuff, and trust me, there was a LOT OF NEW STUFF. A LOT. If my house is this wrecked with just one kid, I can't imagine what two might do to me. I might just have to give up and get a bigger house. With more area for stuff to be wrecked. And of course, more for me to clean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We made the decision last year to stay home for this Christmas. Typically we get up, speed through the presents, then get cleaned up and out the door to Ryan's family. Then we eat, speed through more presents, then it's off to my family. Last year SUCKED because it all just felt so rushed - I didn't feel like Lyric was getting the true holiday experience. I remember being able to sit by the tree and play with my toys all day (on occasional years we would go to other family), and it was so nice. This year, my mom and dad at least were in agreement, and they came over to enjoy the day with us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/elosquirrel/3147256827/" title="IMG_7826 by Elosquirrel, on Flickr"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3133/3147256827_42f0b17a18.jpg" alt="IMG_7826" height="333" width="500" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/elosquirrel/3148087626/" title="IMG_7823 by Elosquirrel, on Flickr"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3097/3148087626_c082ea0e1e.jpg" alt="IMG_7823" height="500" width="333" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Definitely the best Christmas yet. By the end of the day, we were all so tired, Ryan and I were relaxing in the living room, when Lyric disappeared for a few minutes. Ryan went to look for her and found her in the spare bedroom, on the floor, with a blanket pulled over her. She was OUT. She slept all night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soon I'll be writing about my New Years Resolutions, and they probably aren't what you think they are. More on that in a couple days. Til then, finish off those Christmas cookies before your diet starts. I know I will.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7435152-4698806237409604070?l=squirrelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/4698806237409604070/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7435152&amp;postID=4698806237409604070" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/4698806237409604070" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/4698806237409604070" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SquirrelStories/~3/5MoTVj6rzC8/holiday-magic.html" title="Holiday Magic" /><author><name>E-Lo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00544355803631486917" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/2008/12/holiday-magic.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7435152.post-1587607583569738790</id><published>2008-12-12T13:43:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T14:03:12.605-05:00</updated><title type="text">I *heart* TBTL  - RAWR!</title><content type="html">Ok, so if you haven't heard of Too Beautiful to Live yet - which is a radio show hosted by Luke Burbank and produced by Jen Andrews out of Seattle - what the EFF? Are you living in a cave? They were on the front page of iTunes a couple weeks ago. Anyway, you should really check it out. I've been through a lot of shows on the podcast wagon and THIS IS THE ONE. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I implore you - check them out. They have listeners from all over the world, so it's not just isolated to the northwest - and I begged Jen last night to make me Ten of the Day (the listeners are called "tens") - and today, &lt;a href="http://www.mynorthwest.com/?nid=78&amp;sid=115219"&gt;she put me up&lt;/a&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THAT just made my day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7435152-1587607583569738790?l=squirrelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/1587607583569738790/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7435152&amp;postID=1587607583569738790" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/1587607583569738790" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/1587607583569738790" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SquirrelStories/~3/3BArNPzAhW0/i-heart-tbtl-rawr.html" title="I *heart* TBTL  - RAWR!" /><author><name>E-Lo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00544355803631486917" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/2008/12/i-heart-tbtl-rawr.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7435152.post-4510156920323999537</id><published>2008-12-10T15:22:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T15:48:38.652-05:00</updated><title type="text">Amazing Something</title><content type="html">&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-fbd5d868dbcbf782" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.blogger.com/img/videoplayer.swf?videoUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvp.video.google.com%2Fvideodownload%3Fversion%3D0%26secureurl%3DqAAAADjB7cieHmVEItu-JNF4-KIEQqo_9zeYRfMI1LsgA7qxT-P3lX9O7Tu6ekadAE3aUiuoI62zmGtHYpiw9lraNdxD0FgJGsSkejnGYzCxjvp2Uak0NjCK5upIYS9lCP5iccf6iES9R1TN0Y_xzpfqIgNc4Go4xwdGot5XIXKhnov9mU3yyFgiD7LwEdiFFaYRHAUwXEhqg3VUUds0AI00n27rJe1oj_WoQFXsUesOZqcz%26sigh%3DZ8uLXfWzOR19BQPh_Yo5X6mNInc%26begin%3D0%26len%3D86400000%26docid%3D0&amp;amp;nogvlm=1&amp;amp;thumbnailUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvideo.google.com%2FThumbnailServer2%3Fapp%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dfbd5d868dbcbf782%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw320%26sigh%3DEAYWZAjltPNpulc7hTPNwaoMfCY&amp;amp;messagesUrl=video.google.com%2FFlashUiStrings.xlb%3Fframe%3Dflashstrings%26hl%3Den"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.blogger.com/img/videoplayer.swf?videoUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvp.video.google.com%2Fvideodownload%3Fversion%3D0%26secureurl%3DqAAAADjB7cieHmVEItu-JNF4-KIEQqo_9zeYRfMI1LsgA7qxT-P3lX9O7Tu6ekadAE3aUiuoI62zmGtHYpiw9lraNdxD0FgJGsSkejnGYzCxjvp2Uak0NjCK5upIYS9lCP5iccf6iES9R1TN0Y_xzpfqIgNc4Go4xwdGot5XIXKhnov9mU3yyFgiD7LwEdiFFaYRHAUwXEhqg3VUUds0AI00n27rJe1oj_WoQFXsUesOZqcz%26sigh%3DZ8uLXfWzOR19BQPh_Yo5X6mNInc%26begin%3D0%26len%3D86400000%26docid%3D0&amp;amp;nogvlm=1&amp;amp;thumbnailUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvideo.google.com%2FThumbnailServer2%3Fapp%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dfbd5d868dbcbf782%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw320%26sigh%3DEAYWZAjltPNpulc7hTPNwaoMfCY&amp;amp;messagesUrl=video.google.com%2FFlashUiStrings.xlb%3Fframe%3Dflashstrings%26hl%3Den" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd love to annoy my neighbors with this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7435152-4510156920323999537?l=squirrelstories.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="enclosure" type="video/mp4" href="http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=fbd5d868dbcbf782&amp;type=video%2Fmp4" length="0" /><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/feeds/4510156920323999537/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7435152&amp;postID=4510156920323999537" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/4510156920323999537" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7435152/posts/default/4510156920323999537" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SquirrelStories/~3/VHn0JnDXpuU/amazing-something.html" title="Amazing Something" /><author><name>E-Lo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="00544355803631486917" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://squirrelstories.blogspot.com/2008/12/amazing-something.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>
