<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6396081913378266461</id><updated>2026-10-13T23:35:26.393-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What more can I say?</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false'/><author><name>Kprettywoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14358038923014587114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJtmWCwS-nseveJRgxIeX0rE78mNNpbQZ7CD-dHS85EkFn7WETSXxg1gfk_yk6yEdUk58RBRFxu0t0fhuzYiptHYMoKiM94qkkUvgmxAnNcAU1_CH6YSzMP4ZWaBc5pw/s220/DSC_0032.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>238</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6396081913378266461.post-7916034925167958703</id><published>2013-09-29T18:10:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2013-09-29T18:13:36.399-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Feeling ungrateful? Maybe you&#39;re diseased or you may just need a snickers. </title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju5X5yLUcYAz9udiOsZPrv-4Z5l0wqZ1rPoHSPKfPV24wk_yfKTZcdXvWbLTnH_3pMKRU3-sS-XZH6oAo4R0XE0aKQXpp-A4WOIas8IWvuZg-g9BWMI7vqZ_bu8YcNbi2eqJHO8v516aI/s1600/UTZ1.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;310&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju5X5yLUcYAz9udiOsZPrv-4Z5l0wqZ1rPoHSPKfPV24wk_yfKTZcdXvWbLTnH_3pMKRU3-sS-XZH6oAo4R0XE0aKQXpp-A4WOIas8IWvuZg-g9BWMI7vqZ_bu8YcNbi2eqJHO8v516aI/s320/UTZ1.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
Yep. I&#39;m just an ungrateful brat these days. I really have no reason to complain, but thats all I do. You ever feel as though life will never be satisfying enough? Yeah, I do--and no, I&#39;m not a recovering drug attic.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I just wanted a boyfriend; I just wanted a husband; I just wanted a house; I just wanted a nice car; I just wanted a full time job ... I just wanted a baby, I just wanted to be happy. I just want, want, want. And then I get, get, get, but what do I give?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Is this really the life pattern I WANT? Want? Theres that word again. Why can&#39;t I just be happy with what I have. I just scored a sweet job working with the best and brightest people.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Does anyone else struggle with careoitis? I just made up a disorder, look it up, its Latin; therefore, it is legit. Its the latin word for want. I&#39;m diseased with wanting. (Warning, I may be contagious, continue at your own peril.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I worry that I&#39;m going to spend the rest of my life wanting, I guess its better than lethargitis--latin word for apathy. I guess its good that I care about something, rather than just not caring about anything.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I guess I should say that I suffer from concupiscitis, thats Latin for covetous.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I mean why can&#39;t I just happily live the ideal life that was hammered into my brain from a young age: get married, have babies, be a homemaker.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Its probably because I&#39;m a lazy git. I can&#39;t keep my house clean, cook dinner, or do ballet ... naked, in the rain ... not sure how the latter is relevant, but it sounds like it would take work.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I mean, if I was given the opportunity to be a homemaker, I&#39;d probably burn the house down ... with the kid in it--thats an exaggeration ... maybe... I&#39;ll let you figure it out.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Maybe I suffer from inadequetitis--it means to suffer from feelings of inadequacy. I&#39;ve been told my self-esteem is below par ... what the hell? How is that supposed to help me? Why don&#39;t you compliment me, not tell me that I need to stop feeling sorry for myself ... golly gee, you don&#39;t think I already know that? Pigs.&lt;br /&gt;
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If you&#39;ve made it this far in this pathetic attempt at blogging--theres that inadequetitis shining through--please share if you suffer from any of these diseases.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Its mostly likely that I&#39;m just a hypochondriac.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/feeds/7916034925167958703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2013/09/feeling-ungrateful-maybe-youre-diseased.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/7916034925167958703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/7916034925167958703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2013/09/feeling-ungrateful-maybe-youre-diseased.html' title='Feeling ungrateful? Maybe you&#39;re diseased or you may just need a snickers. '/><author><name>Kaitlin Prettyman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11278325130575677106</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju5X5yLUcYAz9udiOsZPrv-4Z5l0wqZ1rPoHSPKfPV24wk_yfKTZcdXvWbLTnH_3pMKRU3-sS-XZH6oAo4R0XE0aKQXpp-A4WOIas8IWvuZg-g9BWMI7vqZ_bu8YcNbi2eqJHO8v516aI/s72-c/UTZ1.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6396081913378266461.post-7712616914000080170</id><published>2013-09-29T17:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2013-09-29T17:33:14.002-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The nothingness</title><content type='html'>I have nothing to write here. I have no photos to post. Many times I&#39;ve opened a new post, typed a few words and walked away. Someone want to give me something to write about? I&#39;ve got nothing. I guess marriage has sucked me dry of creativity and wit. I&#39;m tired now.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/feeds/7712616914000080170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2013/09/the-nothingness.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/7712616914000080170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/7712616914000080170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2013/09/the-nothingness.html' title='The nothingness'/><author><name>Kaitlin Prettyman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11278325130575677106</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6396081913378266461.post-3628220614533348374</id><published>2013-04-22T16:08:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2013-04-22T16:08:33.430-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mistakes I made applying to a PHD program</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;
So, I didn&#39;t get into a PHD program this year. I only applied to five schools and two of those had an acceptance rate of about two percent or less. I want to share where I went wrong. I want to tell you the mistakes I made when applying to a PHD program and what you can do to get in the first time.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;GRE--&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjozMg4jMhM_fFOLdG2SBCLY-rtwjlAAsqu1tVEew3PW68sB_bXsqRUSG1L9YSHVpMW-MZkvhRop5zRA55QYZUlPhk5VOzZcE4lguA9qOzoPj_x6RaSZCmaJ1uZYli9x337ZvVCqnZ8yEs/s1600/ETS-GRE-logos.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;GRE masters phd application didn&#39;t get in &quot; border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjozMg4jMhM_fFOLdG2SBCLY-rtwjlAAsqu1tVEew3PW68sB_bXsqRUSG1L9YSHVpMW-MZkvhRop5zRA55QYZUlPhk5VOzZcE4lguA9qOzoPj_x6RaSZCmaJ1uZYli9x337ZvVCqnZ8yEs/s1600/ETS-GRE-logos.jpg&quot; title=&quot;GRE masters phd application didn&#39;t get in &quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Retake the GRE, if your scores are low or average. &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
Alrighty, I had good scores, they met each schools qualifications but I&#39;d say they weren&#39;t good enough. You want to score above the schools qualifying scores. The higher the scores, the better.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Set aside time to study for the GRE, and use all your resources--books, online etc. &lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;b&gt;FOCUS--&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpy7CkJu2JNGnXDSZyIN3YQhfA8gngyUFpWhvoiQnsZJjGGyvo9efC6k41t26jueB6kVAhU9D9bBPd2_tRok8PF8rNRyPRUj4iP8HDIqhHkFAhRfkVCNYSA1zs-jHKRQCI9sG5qDYbbGk/s1600/unfocused-i-500.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;GRE masters phd application didn&#39;t get in focus focused&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;240&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpy7CkJu2JNGnXDSZyIN3YQhfA8gngyUFpWhvoiQnsZJjGGyvo9efC6k41t26jueB6kVAhU9D9bBPd2_tRok8PF8rNRyPRUj4iP8HDIqhHkFAhRfkVCNYSA1zs-jHKRQCI9sG5qDYbbGk/s320/unfocused-i-500.jpg&quot; title=&quot;GRE masters phd application didn&#39;t get in focus focused&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Make sure your application is focused.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
I applied with a very broad focus. I didn&#39;t know who I wanted to study with and what I wanted my focus to be. This was probably one of the greatest flaws in my application. How are they going to give me a mentor faculty member when they can&#39;t figure out what it is that I want to do?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Make sure that you specify what your research focus is and why they&#39;re school is a match for you. Identify who you want to study with.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
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Have a strong focus and a strong background with that focus. This brings me to my next point.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;b&gt;PUBLICATION--&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggKGdueU5Vj6C7lqvwm1WidZDxJMBjqO8e4xZ6ACF4KrXkdACZpN1qw7Q_1qInmlHz23AM_I7uNASO0ukvFMtW8mUUcdH0pmUJAftcHZPNlM3zfj8EqDWYZsbrmMAMolI4drJAVkZuyNk/s1600/pub_index2.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;GRE masters phd application didn&#39;t get in publication published journals&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;182&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggKGdueU5Vj6C7lqvwm1WidZDxJMBjqO8e4xZ6ACF4KrXkdACZpN1qw7Q_1qInmlHz23AM_I7uNASO0ukvFMtW8mUUcdH0pmUJAftcHZPNlM3zfj8EqDWYZsbrmMAMolI4drJAVkZuyNk/s320/pub_index2.jpg&quot; title=&quot;GRE masters phd application didn&#39;t get in publication published journals&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Try your hardest to have something published before you apply.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
Try and be published, try to participate in a conference. Make sure your name is on the web. Make sure you&#39;ve made an impression with the schools you&#39;ve attended.&lt;br /&gt;
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Either work to have your work published individually or at least work with a professor to get something published--work on getting that professional byline.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;b&gt;NETWORKING/CONNECTION--&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQlxlC1LU6_czEt8zGBMaPBuAS6FSD7CbW49zjy1T53UsqNkNLBVYREs2HMS-W6SfQuv8Gn26DjG9m9wM8PtbcQuQfZGCuh456PUKwNwBtsZfQOhezl8zBdSTO3xQOi5Ab30mZAet4fgc/s1600/networking1.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;GRE masters phd application didn&#39;t get in networking connections professor faculty &quot; border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;240&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQlxlC1LU6_czEt8zGBMaPBuAS6FSD7CbW49zjy1T53UsqNkNLBVYREs2HMS-W6SfQuv8Gn26DjG9m9wM8PtbcQuQfZGCuh456PUKwNwBtsZfQOhezl8zBdSTO3xQOi5Ab30mZAet4fgc/s320/networking1.jpg&quot; title=&quot;GRE masters phd application didn&#39;t get in networking connections professor faculty &quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Network. Use those connections from undergrad and masters. &lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
Ask your bachelors or masters professors that you worked closely with where they went for their masters and PhD. Ask them to write your recommendation for you, if you apply to the school that they went to.&lt;br /&gt;
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If you know a big name, don&#39;t be afraid to drop it, don&#39;t be afraid to ask them for a letter of recommendation. &lt;br /&gt;
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Make sure you make a connection with the faculty at the school you are applying to. Whether its through your application or if you start emailing or calling them about their program before you apply. I wouldn&#39;t be afraid to get in touch with the person you are hoping to do research with. &lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;b&gt;AGE/EXPERIENCE--&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim280Y78FN3H1n8l_AGyCpTDODte9b3vuAa38Qozbz55W8lzJGpk-iBW0yBGMQivuV7TN65lFSRKtjcKrM1Deel4QzjUHlI89RSarwJtVGut9Z2rq_kQhagz4dSmj_1d0tFza-2Wyhvas/s1600/college-for-baby.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;GRE masters phd application didn&#39;t get in youth age inexperience experience&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim280Y78FN3H1n8l_AGyCpTDODte9b3vuAa38Qozbz55W8lzJGpk-iBW0yBGMQivuV7TN65lFSRKtjcKrM1Deel4QzjUHlI89RSarwJtVGut9Z2rq_kQhagz4dSmj_1d0tFza-2Wyhvas/s1600/college-for-baby.jpg&quot; title=&quot;GRE masters phd application didn&#39;t get in youth age inexperience experience&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Age doesn&#39;t matter but experience is crucial.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
I thought that being young, being a go-getter would give me a boost. It didn&#39;t. If you&#39;re young, don&#39;t try to use the youth card to your advantage. It doesn&#39;t work, if anything it will hamper your chances of getting in.&lt;br /&gt;
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But don&#39;t be afraid to emphasize your experience in the work world and the academic world. Experience counts for a lot. Make sure you are involved in your school, your community and all other facets of your life.&lt;br /&gt;
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Maybe this was all brain dead stuff for you, but I didn&#39;t think about this crap until it was too late. Talk to your professors now. Don&#39;t be afraid to ask them and others with similar backgrounds to yours for advice.&lt;br /&gt;
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Hopefully this blog post will give you a better chance of getting into a PHD program the first time. &lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/feeds/3628220614533348374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2013/04/mistakes-i-made-applying-to-phd-program.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/3628220614533348374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/3628220614533348374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2013/04/mistakes-i-made-applying-to-phd-program.html' title='Mistakes I made applying to a PHD program'/><author><name>Kaitlin Prettyman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11278325130575677106</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjozMg4jMhM_fFOLdG2SBCLY-rtwjlAAsqu1tVEew3PW68sB_bXsqRUSG1L9YSHVpMW-MZkvhRop5zRA55QYZUlPhk5VOzZcE4lguA9qOzoPj_x6RaSZCmaJ1uZYli9x337ZvVCqnZ8yEs/s72-c/ETS-GRE-logos.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6396081913378266461.post-8785511310858357912</id><published>2013-04-09T12:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2013-04-09T12:08:08.171-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The reasons I love him: Seeing past the small things</title><content type='html'>&lt;table cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO1NNYsfOmkBuVk8VDw9QCVP99gPlNjAYoP2KHSNibpa5NNYaGRSArnJCOUIBEJrV0wOTYwc9sNLScJ6sanxsNf-2u8HAfiKhw3wETsKaAUBif3Q9ThMv2w8IRPwPslfiY_GZVxg4BmS0/s1600/the+reason+I+love+him.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;handsome model husband sexy husband determined focused brilliant ideal Mormon contractor&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;443&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO1NNYsfOmkBuVk8VDw9QCVP99gPlNjAYoP2KHSNibpa5NNYaGRSArnJCOUIBEJrV0wOTYwc9sNLScJ6sanxsNf-2u8HAfiKhw3wETsKaAUBif3Q9ThMv2w8IRPwPslfiY_GZVxg4BmS0/s640/the+reason+I+love+him.jpg&quot; title=&quot;handsome model husband sexy husband determined focused brilliant&quot; width=&quot;640&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;How could anyone not love this handsome face? I feel so lucky when I realize that its me he loves more than any other mortal on this earth. &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
We fight. There are a lot of differences, annoyances, etc. I often forget the reasons I love him. I often write the reasons why I SOOO want to hate him. But, when I look at this picture of my husband, I don&#39;t want to fight anymore, I remember the reasons I love him far out weigh the reasons I can&#39;t stand him.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I think of how gentle he was last night. I lay crying in my bed. I was upset and disappointed in myself. He held me. He rubbed my back. He told me he loved me. He told me he was proud of me. He made my sadness melt away. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I was disappointed that I still hadn&#39;t heard back from schools and Brandon looked at me and said &quot;I have a strong feeling you&#39;ll get in. How could you not?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It was a sweet moment because he does not necessarily want me to get into a school that would take us away from his comfort zone--Utah. But his words were sincere.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Its in those sincere, giving, trusting moments that I am overwhelmed with good emotions for this man that I married. When he lays his head on my chest and confides in me, when he helps all those around him--whether he likes them or not--when he always reaches for my hand, when he talks about church.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I feel like I concentrate so much on the negative that I don&#39;t give this man enough credit. His brilliance, his dedication, his love: I don&#39; talk about these things enough.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I feel so lucky. I feel so blessed to be able to spend the rest of my life and someday eternity with this man that I love. I must remember to remember the reasons I love him so much. </content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/feeds/8785511310858357912/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2013/04/the-reasons-i-love-him-seeing-past.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/8785511310858357912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/8785511310858357912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2013/04/the-reasons-i-love-him-seeing-past.html' title='The reasons I love him: Seeing past the small things'/><author><name>Kaitlin Prettyman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11278325130575677106</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO1NNYsfOmkBuVk8VDw9QCVP99gPlNjAYoP2KHSNibpa5NNYaGRSArnJCOUIBEJrV0wOTYwc9sNLScJ6sanxsNf-2u8HAfiKhw3wETsKaAUBif3Q9ThMv2w8IRPwPslfiY_GZVxg4BmS0/s72-c/the+reason+I+love+him.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6396081913378266461.post-8861497860650901714</id><published>2013-03-28T13:21:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2013-04-18T15:37:44.597-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Limbo ... painful and enjoyable</title><content type='html'>&lt;table cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCORRwOlaLzgfaKIOzYo3SuVhwK4MU23StDUT9PTjZX4OsEfrIxuHyK5DiVl4s7q4fFw1EIEOVqMJKWkehDCmGOm3ZUxHPCEMVFJEF-GTIZa8CV7Hnpn4o-uL5ygkK8SCGWCH_dgAkKUI/s1600/IMG_2929.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;remodel living room livingroomremodel livingroom roomremodel intricate hardwood floors&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;425&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCORRwOlaLzgfaKIOzYo3SuVhwK4MU23StDUT9PTjZX4OsEfrIxuHyK5DiVl4s7q4fFw1EIEOVqMJKWkehDCmGOm3ZUxHPCEMVFJEF-GTIZa8CV7Hnpn4o-uL5ygkK8SCGWCH_dgAkKUI/s1600/IMG_2929.jpg&quot; title=&quot;remodel living room livingroomremodel livingroom roomremodel intricate hardwood floors&quot; width=&quot;640&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Home remodel&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;table cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;float: left; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgSrs7wMR_3sXBxrpXn5tvP3_U6UQHQjZOIlz-1o8M6gfNVZ_TBqnWlmmREOnCrEpVyVDvVkY-L5b2EaqsqBOev3XtVnNL98HsEFUA7h1W5oXFcTuMKzS-i8ccmyGAEfq89k6326Wmr7c/s1600/4789835_orig.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;baby chicks one week birds chickens eggs hatchlings&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;213&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgSrs7wMR_3sXBxrpXn5tvP3_U6UQHQjZOIlz-1o8M6gfNVZ_TBqnWlmmREOnCrEpVyVDvVkY-L5b2EaqsqBOev3XtVnNL98HsEFUA7h1W5oXFcTuMKzS-i8ccmyGAEfq89k6326Wmr7c/s1600/4789835_orig.jpg&quot; title=&quot;baby chicks one week birds chickens eggs hatchlings&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Our new chicks&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
I&#39;ve been thinking a lot about my academic/career future. I want so bad to have a stable, decent paying job or I want to get into a PhD program.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;float: left; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5bRJuRlWYYrebOp5En2sxNum1sm8o4mhC0FpVCwmxs89nLmbmW7hK5CyioEpxhKZbGrsqK4aPpq8h_rFkndnutdUvgGtU0UPmB34cPwt6WausfIpSuWjHqxxCUrxVRFGySCMd0mzL1sA/s1600/1619429.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;model self portrait white short wedding dress&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;245&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5bRJuRlWYYrebOp5En2sxNum1sm8o4mhC0FpVCwmxs89nLmbmW7hK5CyioEpxhKZbGrsqK4aPpq8h_rFkndnutdUvgGtU0UPmB34cPwt6WausfIpSuWjHqxxCUrxVRFGySCMd0mzL1sA/s1600/1619429.jpg&quot; title=&quot;model self portrait white short wedding dress&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Modeling, self portrait, a little photoshop&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
The waiting is killing me. Why is it taking so long? I should&#39;ve heard back by now, its almost April.&amp;nbsp; I&#39;ve been checking the mail like crazy, even when I know the mail hasn&#39;t come yet. And then the thoughts of paranoia come. I start thinking about how my neighbors or some homeless person from the shelter down the street could&#39;ve stolen my acceptance letter. And the longer it takes the more I&amp;nbsp; feel a washed in self doubt and low self esteem.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Is this some kind of disease? Has anyone else been afflicted by this epidemic?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I&#39;ve applied to about ten jobs that I am highly qualified for in the past month, and I&#39;ve heard nothing so far ... yet again, something else that makes me constantly check the mail.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Is it my resume? My gender? My face? A typo?&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I keep kicking myself, wondering whats wrong with me. Maybe I&#39;ve chosen the wrong career, maybe God wants me to be barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen right now, maybe I&#39;m supposed to be dead, but I keep missing the bus that&#39;s supposed to hit me. Who can say? &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
To make life even more complicated, I also had to push my graduation back till June. My thesis is basically done but my department changed our winter deadlines without telling us and so I just couldn&#39;t finish things on time.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I didn&#39;t realize how much it would suck to finish something late, until I started to seeing everyone talking on Facebook about finishing their masters degree next month. Stupid Facebook. I should delete that thing again but there are so many cute babies and delicious recipes--not recipes for babies, but for food ... I just wanted to clear that up.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I&#39;ve used the past month to complete some home construction on our house and my husbands other house. I&#39;ve made dump runs, learned to rivet things. I am currently making homemade curtain rods. The past month has been fun, but in the back of mind there is always the jobless thoughts, the academic failure thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But I am going to be positive. I was also able to work on my photography skills, my website, my husbands upcoming home inspection website, my wardrobe and I am going to start taking voice lessons next week.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I&#39;ve also joined &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.fema.gov/community-emergency-response-teams&quot;&gt;CERT&lt;/a&gt;, where have learned basic emergency preparedness and medical and rescue techniques for when Utah is shook up by an earthquake or terrorist attack. We also bought chicks and plan to build a chicken coup in the back yard. Crazy.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We&#39;re planning to visit Washington in the next month and I am going to learn to ride a horse at Brandon&#39;s uncle&#39;s ranch. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I guess I am doing a lot right now in regards to my career future but I am learning a lot and having a lot of fun. </content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/feeds/8861497860650901714/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2013/03/limo-painful-and-enjoyable.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/8861497860650901714'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/8861497860650901714'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2013/03/limo-painful-and-enjoyable.html' title='Limbo ... painful and enjoyable'/><author><name>Kaitlin Prettyman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11278325130575677106</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCORRwOlaLzgfaKIOzYo3SuVhwK4MU23StDUT9PTjZX4OsEfrIxuHyK5DiVl4s7q4fFw1EIEOVqMJKWkehDCmGOm3ZUxHPCEMVFJEF-GTIZa8CV7Hnpn4o-uL5ygkK8SCGWCH_dgAkKUI/s72-c/IMG_2929.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6396081913378266461.post-5320550716175555278</id><published>2013-01-21T08:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2013-01-21T08:47:09.692-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The woes and pros of life</title><content type='html'>Oh, why did I do grad school? I sometimes wonder what someone slipped into my drink to make me take all this on. I don&#39;t know what I was thinking, but I know I&#39;m not thinking it now.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Friday I take a comprehensive final that encompasses all that I&#39;ve learned the past two years. No big deal. By February 15, I have to have 10 interviews transcribed, coded and added to a first draft submission of my thesis. No pressure.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I have to wait about two more months before I find out if I am going to school for another three, so I can get a PhD. My life is in limbo.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I REALLY want to graduate in April and I if I don&#39;t, then I feel like I am a failure. I also want to get accepted into graduate school and get a sweet teaching offer along with it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I also feel like the inversion is making me sicker and sicker. My house looks like a bomb in it and I put on seven pounds in the past two weeks.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But, on a more positive not, I did score an amazing digital piano for a pittance. I will be able to start composing more. I want to get some music transposing software. There are other great things happening in life too.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We went to Maryland for Christmas, my mother came out to take Emily to school and visit me. We are most likely going to be able to go home this summer and we&#39;ll be able to see John and Amber&#39;s new baby. There are still great things happening in life but its hard to enjoy those when there is so much to fear. The end.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/feeds/5320550716175555278/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2013/01/the-woes-and-pros-of-life.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/5320550716175555278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/5320550716175555278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2013/01/the-woes-and-pros-of-life.html' title='The woes and pros of life'/><author><name>Kaitlin Prettyman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11278325130575677106</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6396081913378266461.post-5934143239460293104</id><published>2012-11-04T15:06:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2013-04-18T15:41:40.995-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The blah of my life</title><content type='html'>It&#39;s already November. I thought I would update the blog, because my life is just that exciting.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Just a FEW more days until elections. I won&#39;t lie, I am so fidgety about all of it. I could barely handle watching the debates, and now, I don&#39;t think I can handle watching, reading or listening the news any more.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I&#39;ve been listening to talk radio a lot--Sean Hannity, Rush Limbaugh--and the race seems tight--even thought the media loves to hammer on Governor Mitt Romney and not President Barack Obama. I won&#39;t say anymore about politics, or try not to at least, but can anyone else feel the tension sizzling in the political world or am I the only one pulling at the sweaty collar of my shirt?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Emily joined our household last week. She&#39;s been motivating me to get some family history done and do some volunteering. She managed to land a job her first day here working at City Creek&#39;s Chik-fil-a.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Brandon and I are still studying like crazy. I finally received IRB approval and can officially start doing interviews for my Thesis. I&#39;m so stinking nervous about all of it. The moment is finally here and it only took what felt like a lifetime to get there. I guess I need to call my first source and set up an interview, but jeepers I&#39;m nervous.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I take the GRE on November 27, then I have to start studying for my comprehensive exam, one of the final steps I take to graduate from BYU. I also have to submit applications for PhD programs. I&#39;m still not sure if I want to go for the PhD, but it doesn&#39;t hurt to apply, right? Yikes spikes.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We both caught some flu bug this weekend and we&#39;ve been holed up in the house with a headache, stuffy nose and sore throat.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We probably caught it from our friend&#39;s kids. They come to visit every now and sleepover when we have Michael. It makes his stay a lot easier for all of us and I love having the extra kids. I&#39;m not used to having just one kid, I prefer at least three around.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Thoughts of how I will help guide my kids through life have been swimming through my head a lot recently. Michael has been a sort of ginny pig for me. He&#39;s helped me understand what I need to teach my kids, and what habits we need to have established before all em&#39; babies start popping out of me--that won&#39;t be for a couple years, I know you people like to ask, so now you don&#39;t have to ... butt heads.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table align=&quot;center&quot; cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKBDva_gsNpx-ccNy8gtej_VKGxqjQtIYP-gGTU8iekf4kTFR9tiVbqWhRSKDAZy5qKfWRnUQan5n9KKwQ1Dr5MtSfBQBJD2vhJv0dPApsDyufqK83_PsrNhpBlT9CVxm2vvLkQeGINPE/s1600/photo+(1).jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;paper slide homemade slide receipt paper receiptpaper toy soldiers children hispanic &quot; border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKBDva_gsNpx-ccNy8gtej_VKGxqjQtIYP-gGTU8iekf4kTFR9tiVbqWhRSKDAZy5qKfWRnUQan5n9KKwQ1Dr5MtSfBQBJD2vhJv0dPApsDyufqK83_PsrNhpBlT9CVxm2vvLkQeGINPE/s320/photo+(1).jpg&quot; title=&quot;paper slide homemade slide receipt paper receiptpaper toy soldiers children hispanic &quot; width=&quot;240&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;We made a homemade slide for the toy soldiers out of a roll of old receipt paper&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table align=&quot;center&quot; cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrDdpKikrdBAdb0HbyUVArgtNqBGi8x-s6Ai5YMAavUpc2YK_yYSUU0LngG1T1PtNzaMUblcs1wIAQPzO2Y_YtSzD9ueWpxCRrpJumzWOe_IqYUoqZ2-a6ky-gd-J9kgRDmbSFQBSBWkQ/s1600/photo+(2).jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;swinging swings children playground&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrDdpKikrdBAdb0HbyUVArgtNqBGi8x-s6Ai5YMAavUpc2YK_yYSUU0LngG1T1PtNzaMUblcs1wIAQPzO2Y_YtSzD9ueWpxCRrpJumzWOe_IqYUoqZ2-a6ky-gd-J9kgRDmbSFQBSBWkQ/s320/photo+(2).jpg&quot; title=&quot;swinging swings children playground&quot; width=&quot;240&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Michael pushing Chantel on the swing&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table align=&quot;center&quot; cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaUjTl-Az164dBy_lZYT2Q4SQmEUSfBRkv2rHJmzxlndzJ1V6xzhSCKBaVYQs5Mn6F7_9uZrLPzt3b9pluvcGc4G4rggRcMNrAFh66QBF0vRXlfq_9GnJqRY7a94-tKuPmwTzyzixAm6s/s1600/photo+(3).jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;dog warm blanket labrador lab yellow lab Tucker&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaUjTl-Az164dBy_lZYT2Q4SQmEUSfBRkv2rHJmzxlndzJ1V6xzhSCKBaVYQs5Mn6F7_9uZrLPzt3b9pluvcGc4G4rggRcMNrAFh66QBF0vRXlfq_9GnJqRY7a94-tKuPmwTzyzixAm6s/s320/photo+(3).jpg&quot; title=&quot;dog warm blanket labrador lab yellow lab Tucker&quot; width=&quot;240&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Brandon likes to spoil the dog; there is a space heater right next to Tucker, you just can&#39;t see it.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table align=&quot;center&quot; cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4YV7qP93x_ymjnsuNKXBFabQYhAW7jLzOxqYbg9uVy3pg_H7p8bQLa8CMIgyVbr-CLUfsRONDYPeKtiNX9tqEVwJZbS-LJGtpr2jGkul72j4Ez_R4lt5EEtWXYdEmytJ3_F47p1kK9tI/s1600/photo+(5).jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;cat long cat fat cat kitty laying out&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4YV7qP93x_ymjnsuNKXBFabQYhAW7jLzOxqYbg9uVy3pg_H7p8bQLa8CMIgyVbr-CLUfsRONDYPeKtiNX9tqEVwJZbS-LJGtpr2jGkul72j4Ez_R4lt5EEtWXYdEmytJ3_F47p1kK9tI/s320/photo+(5).jpg&quot; title=&quot;cat long cat fat cat kitty laying out&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Cat loves to hang off the bed.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/feeds/5934143239460293104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2012/11/the-blah-of-my-life.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/5934143239460293104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/5934143239460293104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2012/11/the-blah-of-my-life.html' title='The blah of my life'/><author><name>Kaitlin Prettyman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11278325130575677106</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKBDva_gsNpx-ccNy8gtej_VKGxqjQtIYP-gGTU8iekf4kTFR9tiVbqWhRSKDAZy5qKfWRnUQan5n9KKwQ1Dr5MtSfBQBJD2vhJv0dPApsDyufqK83_PsrNhpBlT9CVxm2vvLkQeGINPE/s72-c/photo+(1).jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6396081913378266461.post-1482286420079661852</id><published>2012-10-11T09:46:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2012-10-11T09:46:55.681-07:00</updated><title type='text'>October Update</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbYgXTzjPeIYLaHuEmXREMiFheBr9R9kS7_Cfea5tiae93yE7_1Y3nnltabG-lBy3dBy2uuxurFHSu5IyCL5xVDSsZ-swx0Ea7pIHS8hIGqPRTKXkij9ABCZT0HauBeeSBtlYZ9Q53-0M/s1600/Cat.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbYgXTzjPeIYLaHuEmXREMiFheBr9R9kS7_Cfea5tiae93yE7_1Y3nnltabG-lBy3dBy2uuxurFHSu5IyCL5xVDSsZ-swx0Ea7pIHS8hIGqPRTKXkij9ABCZT0HauBeeSBtlYZ9Q53-0M/s320/Cat.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4C-8vXdFAfzJKltnWCS3f2RYWgfdWc8t0T0SCOBLIu5JkujYPXsL9RqqBpAdLhcRNkHTROMvL236PcAfMqtAR619wY_zlcYJnmoSk3uITcyhjT0LcPcd7Me9TTTv9kzz4WUQtc_SJpcM/s1600/Brandon.jpeg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4C-8vXdFAfzJKltnWCS3f2RYWgfdWc8t0T0SCOBLIu5JkujYPXsL9RqqBpAdLhcRNkHTROMvL236PcAfMqtAR619wY_zlcYJnmoSk3uITcyhjT0LcPcd7Me9TTTv9kzz4WUQtc_SJpcM/s320/Brandon.jpeg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Benefits of music 
-Best week of marriage so far
-Emily coming out to visit
-Preparing to apply for PhD&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;
I love touting my opinion on these blog posts. I love taking all the passionate anger the urks my soul and spitting it randomnly in these posts.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But, since I have deleted my Facebook, I would like to add update posts on here as to what has been happening in my life. Some crazy big changes have recently happened. First off, I bought an iphone. I&#39;m so glad I deleted my Facebook weeks before I bought the phone. I don&#39;t have to worry as much about being so involved with technology that it detracts from all the greater things in life.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I did download Instagram but I mostly just use it to take cool pictures, not talk to network. Isn&#39;t my husband sexy? I love seeing tools in his hands. Our cats adorable too. Did I mention that I bought a cat? I guess that is a post for another day.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I mostly bought the phone so that I could use the recording software on there for when I start doing interviews for the thesis I&#39;ve been working on. I can&#39;t believe the masters will be done in April. Its going way too fast, but I&#39;m actually really enjoying this semester. I get to research Kennedy&#39;s death and read primary source documents.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I also get to start applying for PhD programs. I don&#39;t actually think I&#39;ll get in, especially since I&#39;m only applying for two--University of Utah and University of Maryland--but who knows. I retake the GRE next month. I&#39;ve already started studying. I think I may teach college some day. I&#39;m not for certain, but I &amp;nbsp;hear that mothers with a background in higher education do a great job raising children--we&#39;ll have to see about that in a few years.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Brandon is going to enroll at SLCC in January and start a full course load. We&#39;re pretty excited about it. We&#39;re both currently doing a lot of studying and brushing up on things.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Marriage has really been great the past few weeks. I think I finally understand why people do it. Its great to be loved and love.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We&#39;ll have another temporary addition to the family in a couple weeks. Emily, my 18-year-old sister, is coming to live with us till Christmas. As you may already know, Sam, my 16-year-old little brother, came and stayed with us this summer and that was enjoyable, so we are looking forward to doing it again.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Those are our update. Some big things are coming up and we&#39;ll see where they take us!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/feeds/1482286420079661852/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2012/10/october-update.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/1482286420079661852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/1482286420079661852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2012/10/october-update.html' title='October Update'/><author><name>Kaitlin Prettyman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11278325130575677106</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbYgXTzjPeIYLaHuEmXREMiFheBr9R9kS7_Cfea5tiae93yE7_1Y3nnltabG-lBy3dBy2uuxurFHSu5IyCL5xVDSsZ-swx0Ea7pIHS8hIGqPRTKXkij9ABCZT0HauBeeSBtlYZ9Q53-0M/s72-c/Cat.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6396081913378266461.post-3327816724625856393</id><published>2012-10-05T08:04:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2012-10-05T10:23:49.401-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Time may change me</title><content type='html'>I won&#39;t lie. Life is really hard right now. I&#39;ve been going through some personal things that would make a nun swear. 


It sucks. It really, really sucks. I went five years without crying, not once--except when a friend died. And now, I cry all the time. I&#39;m a basket case. Its embarrassing.
 

I find myself stressed, anxious and depressed for no real reason--there is a reason, I just don&#39;t like to get personal on here.


I cried in the grocery store yesterday, I had to put my sunglasses on to hide the tears. My husband should&#39;ve been embarrassed but instead he held me, helped me laugh it off and then took me home. 


I couldn&#39;t even watch most of the presidential debate a couple days ago, because the tension was killing me, making me highly anxious. I went in the bedroom and watched a sitcom. I have to admit though, I listened to the debate after when I heard it was a success for a certain candidate and I enjoyed every minute. 


I remember when there was a time that I had absolutely no involvement in politics and now I find the upcoming elections have me really worried. A lot of my involvement has to do with an involved husband. 


I&#39;m so impressed by him. He&#39;s always reading the news, listening to talk radio and trying to understand all sides of an issues before making a judgment. He&#39;s taught me to do that with every aspect of my life: politics, religion, health, family, education. I question things a lot more and I learn a lot more.


He&#39;s been a real blessing through all of these new, unforeseen issues. When I start to feel dark, he always seems to lighten them up. I am thankful for that. I&#39;m thankful that I married an older, more mature man who supports me when things get tough and I go a little crazy. It really makes all the difference. 


But enough of all this mushy crap. Men are pigs.

Note: I did try and put this in paragraphs, but the stupid computer wouldn&#39;t let me.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/feeds/3327816724625856393/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2012/10/time-may-change-me.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/3327816724625856393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/3327816724625856393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2012/10/time-may-change-me.html' title='Time may change me'/><author><name>Kaitlin Prettyman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11278325130575677106</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6396081913378266461.post-6103942356433301879</id><published>2012-09-28T07:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-09-28T09:26:16.450-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Deleting Facebook and restoring life</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;
I deleted the Facebook two weeks ago. I bought an iphone two days ago. I am glad that I deleted the Facebook, before I bought the iphone. I could see some serious issues coming up if I still had the Facebook and the iphone.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;
I noticed a lot of problems that arose within myself over the four years I had Facebook. I was jealous. I was able to breed that jealousy to a distinct low by surfing through the photos, success stories and marriage proposal updates that appeared on my Facebook everyday.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;
I kept telling myself, &quot;you&#39;ll get rid of Facebook as soon as ... &quot; or &quot;you need Facebook, you&#39;re a Comms major, its inevitable.&quot;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;
It wasn&#39;t inevitable, it was destructive. It took away my time, creativity, and love for those around me. Facebook gave me a life, only to take it away by sucking me into, making Facebook the central focus of every aspect, every facet of my life.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;
Who created Facebook? Who ran Facebook? Some guy name Mark Zuckerburg. Was I now letting some punk kid run my life? He must feel extremely powerful.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;
I was giving everyone access to my photos, my friends, my personal thoughts and feelings. The mystery of my life ... oh wait, there was no mystery. And the mystery of those I didn&#39;t communicate with any longer wasn&#39;t a mystery either.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;
I thought at first that I liked this. And I did. I loved it when I was single. It gave the shy girl the ability to open up to others and get dates, lots of dates. But I found myself depending on it for excitement, depending on it to get to know others and I found that it kept disappointing me.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;
Why?&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;
Because you really can&#39;t get to know a person through Facebook. I mean, you can get to know their ego, get to know what about them they like the most ... since that is the only thing they&#39;re going to post. But you can&#39;t get to know them as an individual.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;
I began to see people as a downward or upward comparison. They were either better than me and I secretly hated them or they were worse off than me and I felt sorry for them.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;
I didn&#39;t want to feel this way. I didn&#39;t want others to feel this way about me.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;
So, I took myself away to save myself and yourself from the jealousy or pity that I create within you and you created within myself.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Some would point out that Facebook doesn&#39;t affect them, that they have no special ties to it ... but those are men, and they lack emotion anyway.&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/feeds/6103942356433301879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2012/09/deleting-facebook-and-restoring-life.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/6103942356433301879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/6103942356433301879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2012/09/deleting-facebook-and-restoring-life.html' title='Deleting Facebook and restoring life'/><author><name>Kprettywoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14358038923014587114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJtmWCwS-nseveJRgxIeX0rE78mNNpbQZ7CD-dHS85EkFn7WETSXxg1gfk_yk6yEdUk58RBRFxu0t0fhuzYiptHYMoKiM94qkkUvgmxAnNcAU1_CH6YSzMP4ZWaBc5pw/s220/DSC_0032.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6396081913378266461.post-2689280341329366165</id><published>2012-09-21T09:54:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2013-04-18T15:44:10.642-07:00</updated><title type='text'>First few months of marriage</title><content type='html'>&lt;table align=&quot;center&quot; cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP_VsywEzBRxdoKiRNRKLU6UMxaAWVebH-joNjO6OdLABFKuk8MhdN-7P3FL9d_nh-CqrJTYFri2_evSC0eAh5y9JDGnUu0dGs3f4-4EU095be_6BW0yUSOeuurDyUnl9sTfySyWm-TVw/s1600/X-mWqCd8L-VsBGH_AJCTs4aBJWWseHNxtSY8T6YUmEg%252CKlybzY15MqOkYGWf7Uw-2tl6NuAWWiFw7gZKWoGMup8.jpeg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;stormy wedding photos rainy wedding photos wedding photos marriage bay wedding photos&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;213&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP_VsywEzBRxdoKiRNRKLU6UMxaAWVebH-joNjO6OdLABFKuk8MhdN-7P3FL9d_nh-CqrJTYFri2_evSC0eAh5y9JDGnUu0dGs3f4-4EU095be_6BW0yUSOeuurDyUnl9sTfySyWm-TVw/s320/X-mWqCd8L-VsBGH_AJCTs4aBJWWseHNxtSY8T6YUmEg%252CKlybzY15MqOkYGWf7Uw-2tl6NuAWWiFw7gZKWoGMup8.jpeg&quot; title=&quot;stormy wedding photos rainy wedding photos wedding photos marriage bay wedding photos&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Lindsay took some amazing photos of us. The weather was stormy but it made for a nice shot.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij4qFcqbuu-lmZkBKd57jUTbOcAQorcuXqKOPVr9fL11bCPwEgvlRWB0xQH7M-j9XMKKMRrw6qvvvpUmLcXq9rL3625yywrhjxWrlWrA4I_Va1yHvR3lLJkf9-uxbkDEhGqO8186seE04/s1600/Z0-EBZYI4akw61wxxL_4DJr9Temd28iv4cFljxz6G_w%252CN4D34xUbRIhiHbCw1pTkOv5GR8EVZkQASoFTETf3L-w%252CZLElBZGOylwNsVjcTt2YR31GuCbRtSdKDN1LSohsFPA.jpeg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;213&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij4qFcqbuu-lmZkBKd57jUTbOcAQorcuXqKOPVr9fL11bCPwEgvlRWB0xQH7M-j9XMKKMRrw6qvvvpUmLcXq9rL3625yywrhjxWrlWrA4I_Va1yHvR3lLJkf9-uxbkDEhGqO8186seE04/s320/Z0-EBZYI4akw61wxxL_4DJr9Temd28iv4cFljxz6G_w%252CN4D34xUbRIhiHbCw1pTkOv5GR8EVZkQASoFTETf3L-w%252CZLElBZGOylwNsVjcTt2YR31GuCbRtSdKDN1LSohsFPA.jpeg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table align=&quot;center&quot; cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuWcf-Aqj4rPs69V0FdqmQ0LJA5W03e3UcPZTk59JCg-7TJRXnLazRXIBa8ebJLNUFHoi3JkGHHaEOGgS1Vi4ZE5y0nTA5c4DDQgQ6kIICcyZpnGSdr0JFttbPowWPULRYdKfntV0QBcE/s1600/e-3BTDAfi7pUAx-LztUxhx32XT0OQOsDbPuPaSNhe7E%252CFWJZJqrBImGmJXGTNitQ6jHkj4zzaVmZl4nE95rJkj8%252CVBlXdTfLMw6k9nQkBoMPMTKCHwS0AuBHKOEDX6WrA_I%252CDmnwK4QB2m7WF8Ji66Op4eexrKf0K_Kl2Hcin601bJM.jpeg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;model wedding photo&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;213&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuWcf-Aqj4rPs69V0FdqmQ0LJA5W03e3UcPZTk59JCg-7TJRXnLazRXIBa8ebJLNUFHoi3JkGHHaEOGgS1Vi4ZE5y0nTA5c4DDQgQ6kIICcyZpnGSdr0JFttbPowWPULRYdKfntV0QBcE/s320/e-3BTDAfi7pUAx-LztUxhx32XT0OQOsDbPuPaSNhe7E%252CFWJZJqrBImGmJXGTNitQ6jHkj4zzaVmZl4nE95rJkj8%252CVBlXdTfLMw6k9nQkBoMPMTKCHwS0AuBHKOEDX6WrA_I%252CDmnwK4QB2m7WF8Ji66Op4eexrKf0K_Kl2Hcin601bJM.jpeg&quot; title=&quot;model wedding photo&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;I feel like a model in this picture.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmxDP0y1WcY7ln0X8Dfh-3VLx7_umuTZTZWnzmmmhfZnMtGxZp9rjZvlytgCFo1YsbqxMSvP5jk3Bs7KkX9sGF39ieCmlQXPRlqHD5yqOIlwfav3KkWKK1q-efklNfeuG8Td5kZoKOu3c/s1600/sQB9U-i1ptBpZNxa1aSNxxXvXSdvL5266ZSbLIYY5uk%252CLAkh4rccnAF-712pxuVzeylnw1U2DSXymrJVMtDZsEg.jpeg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;stormy wedding photos rainy wedding photos wedding photos marriage bay wedding photos&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;213&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmxDP0y1WcY7ln0X8Dfh-3VLx7_umuTZTZWnzmmmhfZnMtGxZp9rjZvlytgCFo1YsbqxMSvP5jk3Bs7KkX9sGF39ieCmlQXPRlqHD5yqOIlwfav3KkWKK1q-efklNfeuG8Td5kZoKOu3c/s320/sQB9U-i1ptBpZNxa1aSNxxXvXSdvL5266ZSbLIYY5uk%252CLAkh4rccnAF-712pxuVzeylnw1U2DSXymrJVMtDZsEg.jpeg&quot; title=&quot;stormy wedding photos rainy wedding photos wedding photos marriage bay wedding photos&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So, we&#39;ve been married for almost four month now. We&#39;re kinda old news, its true. I feel like we&#39;ve been married for years and I feel like we&#39;re not married at all.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
There are already moments when marriage is very difficult, very complicated, but there are also moments where it is all completely worth it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I find myself very blessed to have a man like Brandon in my life. He makes me think about my opinions, my decisions, my feelings. I do a lot more soul searching, more than I ever did before.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We&#39;ve recently hit a point where we don&#39;t always know what we should be doing with our evenings. Both of us love being productive but you can&#39;t be productive all the time, right? So, yesterday I put a bunch of date ideas together, tour them into strips and threw them in a jar. Now when we are at a loss for what to do, we&#39;ll just go by the jar.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
You should see some of my brilliant date ideas; although, I think Brandon may have suggested the best of them all. One of these days we&#39;re going to jump on tracks and see where it takes us, and then we&#39;ll pick a random hotel to spend the night at. Sounds like a blast, right?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We&#39;re volunteering this weekend to clean up after some convention they are doing for True Value. We&#39;re pretty excited about it, since its with the Habitat for Humanity and we&#39;ve spent a good deal of time with our friends at the Salt Lake City Habitat Restore.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
On Sunday we have to figure out if we want to get up and try going to the ward that we&#39;re are supposed to be going to now or keep attending the one that is just as close, which we&#39;ve been attending for a year now. We&#39;re tempted to at least check out the other ward, especially since the Bishop and relief society president live on our street.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Marriage has really been great though. I&#39;d write more, but there isn&#39;t enough space to express the first few months of our marriage. I&#39;ll just start trying to update this from now on. Peace.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/feeds/2689280341329366165/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2012/09/first-few-months-of-marriage.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/2689280341329366165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/2689280341329366165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2012/09/first-few-months-of-marriage.html' title='First few months of marriage'/><author><name>Kprettywoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14358038923014587114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJtmWCwS-nseveJRgxIeX0rE78mNNpbQZ7CD-dHS85EkFn7WETSXxg1gfk_yk6yEdUk58RBRFxu0t0fhuzYiptHYMoKiM94qkkUvgmxAnNcAU1_CH6YSzMP4ZWaBc5pw/s220/DSC_0032.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP_VsywEzBRxdoKiRNRKLU6UMxaAWVebH-joNjO6OdLABFKuk8MhdN-7P3FL9d_nh-CqrJTYFri2_evSC0eAh5y9JDGnUu0dGs3f4-4EU095be_6BW0yUSOeuurDyUnl9sTfySyWm-TVw/s72-c/X-mWqCd8L-VsBGH_AJCTs4aBJWWseHNxtSY8T6YUmEg%252CKlybzY15MqOkYGWf7Uw-2tl6NuAWWiFw7gZKWoGMup8.jpeg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6396081913378266461.post-8951324631210765503</id><published>2012-08-15T12:24:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2013-04-18T15:44:50.015-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I&#39;m going there someday</title><content type='html'>&lt;table align=&quot;center&quot; cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlyFeX7YgG78KGpAXEeZaFFjMV9pv_D8XiXkrQPlEj_O7Q1Vee2vlgM67VPtzhYFewKyAuGoZURS0ygZHdLHH9tuRqVg34ayiGGzuvWXLaW4RuSDjuRTS4je70NRxddGb6LHNovmAwvPk/s1600/RYudpy-Nvq3fYMzckAgvZlU6KrFB1rU5i4PWKXK-KKE,i1jmdU0hE1HWQKnsyqWlJfdEuerNp06D-rAHL36KDPY,LArIYcXQeo8KV7KHucTLPAQ6i4XeA-kw8EPlLGBcFkM.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;stormy wedding photos rainy wedding photos wedding photos marriage bay wedding photos&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;265&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlyFeX7YgG78KGpAXEeZaFFjMV9pv_D8XiXkrQPlEj_O7Q1Vee2vlgM67VPtzhYFewKyAuGoZURS0ygZHdLHH9tuRqVg34ayiGGzuvWXLaW4RuSDjuRTS4je70NRxddGb6LHNovmAwvPk/s400/RYudpy-Nvq3fYMzckAgvZlU6KrFB1rU5i4PWKXK-KKE,i1jmdU0hE1HWQKnsyqWlJfdEuerNp06D-rAHL36KDPY,LArIYcXQeo8KV7KHucTLPAQ6i4XeA-kw8EPlLGBcFkM.jpg&quot; title=&quot;stormy wedding photos rainy wedding photos wedding photos marriage bay wedding photos&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;This is my favorite of the wedding photos.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;span id=&quot;internal-source-marker_0.4237917347660639&quot; style=&quot;font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;It
 was the morning of my wedding reception in Maryland and the text I 
received didn’t shock me, it only reinforced that nagging feelings I had
 felt over the past months.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;He
 couldn’t come to my reception because it felt blasphemous supporting 
someone who was a member and had married outside of the Temple--that was
 the gist of the text. Of course, I didn’t really think that any one 
entirely blew off my wedding because I wasn’t married in the temple, but
 I am sure it influenced their decision in whether or not they should 
come. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;You may be thinking that the text reinforced some upset I may have had because I wasn’t married in the temple. It didn’t. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;I
 knew there were people who disapproved of my decisions, they judged 
without really understanding what they judged. I forgave them. Many 
probably assumed that we just weren’t morally worthy of the temple at 
that time. Many wondered, few knew and hardly any understood. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;I
 felt fear and angst when I first thought of marrying outside of the 
temple. It was a year ago that I sat in my friends house and explained 
how I couldn’t move past that barrier. I felt fear and angst because I 
didn’t look forward to silent disapproval that would come from friends 
and family, from those I thought unconditionally loved me. I finally 
realized that I loved Brandon and I was OK with marrying outside of the 
temple … for now, of course. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;I
 knew that I while I had excelled in the realm of education and career, I
 had a lagged in my spiritual progression. I knew the Church was true, I
 was active, I had a testimony, but the true umph was missing. I was 
working from habit. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;I
 also knew that my husband was not ready to make those covenants again, 
not after his experiences in the past, experiences that still left a 
bitter taste in his mouth. I knew that forcing Brandon and myself to do 
something that we weren’t wholeheartedly ready for was wrong, but I also
 knew that foregoing marriage to Brandon because we couldn’t marry in 
the temple was wrong. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;Right
 before Brandon proposed I felt a certain peace whenever I thought of 
marrying Brandon. So, when Brandon proposed, I said yes. For a while in 
the engagement I didn’t feel worthy of a true wedding. I felt that my 
friends would think I was blasphemous. Again, I was letting what other’s
 thought influence my feelings and actions. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;Bu
 I decided to have the wedding. Going to BYU and being engaged was 
awkward, and hose feelings of inferiority I experienced intensified. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt; I kept getting the question, “What temple are you getting married in?” and my reply “I’m not.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;I also had to explain to my 14/15 year old Sunday School class that I wasn’t going to the Temple.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;“Why,”
 a bunch of boys asked, only to be chastised by the girls for asking 
rude questions, but I explained the scenario with the composure of a 
long cool woman in a black dress. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;I
 had many friends ask me if I knew what I was doing and I know I had 
friends who didn’t think I knew what I was doing. But I am happy with my
 choices. I am happy with my actions. I am happy that I decided to wait 
before entering the temple. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;I look forward to the day when I can enter the House of the Lord. I am happy that I waited.&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/feeds/8951324631210765503/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2012/08/im-going-there-someday.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/8951324631210765503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/8951324631210765503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2012/08/im-going-there-someday.html' title='I&#39;m going there someday'/><author><name>Kprettywoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14358038923014587114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJtmWCwS-nseveJRgxIeX0rE78mNNpbQZ7CD-dHS85EkFn7WETSXxg1gfk_yk6yEdUk58RBRFxu0t0fhuzYiptHYMoKiM94qkkUvgmxAnNcAU1_CH6YSzMP4ZWaBc5pw/s220/DSC_0032.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlyFeX7YgG78KGpAXEeZaFFjMV9pv_D8XiXkrQPlEj_O7Q1Vee2vlgM67VPtzhYFewKyAuGoZURS0ygZHdLHH9tuRqVg34ayiGGzuvWXLaW4RuSDjuRTS4je70NRxddGb6LHNovmAwvPk/s72-c/RYudpy-Nvq3fYMzckAgvZlU6KrFB1rU5i4PWKXK-KKE,i1jmdU0hE1HWQKnsyqWlJfdEuerNp06D-rAHL36KDPY,LArIYcXQeo8KV7KHucTLPAQ6i4XeA-kw8EPlLGBcFkM.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6396081913378266461.post-6156115976660853801</id><published>2012-06-21T12:13:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2012-06-21T12:13:01.430-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I really am going to start writing on here again</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;
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&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
So, I’m just going to bite the bullet and start writing on
here. If I end up not liking any of my posts, then I can always go back and
delete them, right? Yes, of course. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
I guess this is no longer the blog of a pretty woman. I am
now married and the cool last name comments are gone. The only comments I shall
receive are comments about spelling. Blargghh. I am not looking forward to
that, at all. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
I spent years trying to tell people that my last name wasn’t
Pettyman, and that you didn’t have to try and use a French accent to pronounce
it. I don’t get that anymore. I also spent years listening to people say that I
was either a pretty woman or and ugly woman … haha to the latter, you are just
so funny, because I’ve never heard that one before.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
Is this post boring? Do you want to know what would make it
even more boring? Marriage. Fruh? Where did that come from? Not my butt, that
is for sure.&amp;nbsp;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/feeds/6156115976660853801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2012/06/i-really-am-going-to-start-writing-on.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/6156115976660853801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/6156115976660853801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2012/06/i-really-am-going-to-start-writing-on.html' title='I really am going to start writing on here again'/><author><name>Kprettywoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14358038923014587114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJtmWCwS-nseveJRgxIeX0rE78mNNpbQZ7CD-dHS85EkFn7WETSXxg1gfk_yk6yEdUk58RBRFxu0t0fhuzYiptHYMoKiM94qkkUvgmxAnNcAU1_CH6YSzMP4ZWaBc5pw/s220/DSC_0032.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6396081913378266461.post-1235360412176427267</id><published>2012-05-22T12:27:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2012-05-22T12:27:43.577-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pulling a wedding together lickety-split</title><content type='html'>I&#39;m getting married in just a few days. My parents will be here today. I have no decorations or anything planned for the wedding. I simply know where the wedding and the reception will be and that is it. I am not the greatest wedding planner. Luckily my roommates in Sandy have enlisted in this trial with me and we will be working on everything next week.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I feel like I should post something. I guess I should share feelings but I think I will just share the logistics of everything going on right now in my head.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;My look--Make-up, hair, dress&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
So far, I have myself under control. Sage fixed my hair and now it looks natural, I look believably blonde.&lt;br /&gt;
Hylee has been practicing on my hair and I am thinking BIG hair. I have this dream of looking like Nanny Fine from &lt;i&gt;The Nanny&lt;/i&gt;. I have make up. I&#39;ve been practicing my make up. I have my wedding dress and everything that goes with that--shoes, jewelry, petticoat, corset. I am pretty much taken care ... although I do wish my arms would shrink and I could afford Steve Madden shoes.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;His Look&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
He has a suit. That is about it. We don&#39;t have a wedding ring or a shirt to go under the suit. We don&#39;t even have shoes.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;Their Look&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Umm I have people that are coming to stand up with me, possibly. Kevin and Sage may be. We shall see. Brandon is not into ceremonies and he is not into the idea of people standing up with me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;Decorations&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Yeah, I&#39;m figuring those out tomorrow. I have centerpieces and napkins. The center piece is just going to be a bowl of lemons, some sparkling water in a pretty bottle, plain battery-powered candles and maybe some sugar packets or bowls of sugar. I also found someone to lend me some white tablecloths.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We will be setting up the decorations on Friday, hopefully. The wedding ceremony will be set up an hour before the wedding. I am also working on a slideshow of Brandon and I.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;Cleaning&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
The house is immaculate and is waiting for my parents to show up today. I am proud of myself, the car practically sparkles too.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;Photos&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
I am going to hand my camera to a friend and let them snap photos at the wedding.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;Music&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
I will be putting together a playlist today.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;Honeymoon&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Can you believe that some awesome friends of ours paid for us to go the Marriott on Saturday night in Park City?!?! I am excited.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;Family/Friends/Guests&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Hopefully they will be there.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/feeds/1235360412176427267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2012/05/pulling-wedding-together-lickety-split.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/1235360412176427267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/1235360412176427267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2012/05/pulling-wedding-together-lickety-split.html' title='Pulling a wedding together lickety-split'/><author><name>Kprettywoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14358038923014587114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJtmWCwS-nseveJRgxIeX0rE78mNNpbQZ7CD-dHS85EkFn7WETSXxg1gfk_yk6yEdUk58RBRFxu0t0fhuzYiptHYMoKiM94qkkUvgmxAnNcAU1_CH6YSzMP4ZWaBc5pw/s220/DSC_0032.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6396081913378266461.post-1033755979056342208</id><published>2012-04-10T08:09:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2012-04-10T08:11:15.120-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My toppling ant-infested cake of a life</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;p class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-indent:.5in&quot;&gt;For the past few months I’ve felt so unaccomplished. I’ve been doing everything in the fast lane and suddenly I wish to slow down. I wish nothing more than to slow down. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-indent:.5in&quot;&gt;I don’t think I can. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-indent:.5in&quot;&gt;I’ve done so many things, been so many things for so long that I can’t seem to stop and yet, I feel like the things I produce are lacking, I feel as though I am lacking. &lt;span style=&quot;mso-tab-count:1&quot;&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;I’m almost 22. I started college at 17, I graduated college at 20, started my masters at 21 and through all of that I’ve worked and worked and worked and I’ve pushed and pushed and pushed and I’ve dated and dated and dated and now I am marrying.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-indent:.5in&quot;&gt;It is no wonder that I’ve found my work lacking these past two semesters of graduate school. I often wonder if I was ready for all of this. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-indent:.5in&quot;&gt;And when you throw a wedding on top of my leaning, poorly frosted cake of accomplishments then what do you get? You get a smashed cake with ants crawling through it. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-indent:.5in&quot;&gt;My life is just an ant-infested cake. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-indent:.5in&quot;&gt;Oh and I am trying to move into a new home, trying to hold the attention of a Sunday school class full of pubescent teenagers, trying to think of ways to advertise my fiance’s business, trying to lose ten pounds, trying to clean up after four dogs and five adults and I am trying to finish my prospectus so I can graduate early and start providing for my family; this list can go on and on and on and on. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;mso-tab-count:1&quot;&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;I want to explode. This cannot be normal. The ants in my cake better watch out because my cake may have a bomb in it. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;mso-tab-count:1&quot;&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun:yes&quot;&gt; &lt;/span&gt;And when the cake explodes, then the house will catch on fire. And where will I be then? I would be a woman with an exploded ant-infested cake in a burning house. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;mso-tab-count:1&quot;&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;My tail feathers are on fire, someone please dump a bucket of water on me. Thanks.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;I need to go buy something.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/feeds/1033755979056342208/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2012/04/my-toppling-ant-infested-cake-of-life.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/1033755979056342208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/1033755979056342208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2012/04/my-toppling-ant-infested-cake-of-life.html' title='My toppling ant-infested cake of a life'/><author><name>Kprettywoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14358038923014587114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJtmWCwS-nseveJRgxIeX0rE78mNNpbQZ7CD-dHS85EkFn7WETSXxg1gfk_yk6yEdUk58RBRFxu0t0fhuzYiptHYMoKiM94qkkUvgmxAnNcAU1_CH6YSzMP4ZWaBc5pw/s220/DSC_0032.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6396081913378266461.post-1771202294297913727</id><published>2012-03-22T10:11:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2012-03-22T10:22:04.783-07:00</updated><title type='text'>No. He’s not my brother</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidoA4KnRYtcI5As5D8yBmtYo4VjSfR4JCbOs7CaCARVVAQzqaMkL21247Ctc4gBr7edfMQUjydb61aRmsQSb3qKvkYAWequZw25tqwdf4iPe-VgW3vao1dEki9UWdxFhhcYlqobeRVnnE/s1600/389590_3505246359287_1515615064_3061967_960344488_n.jpeg&quot; 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onblur=&quot;try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhse_yIp7PkNp9sKOxd9Bklr1lSATQMnhin8RN-l8rUceM9kTCCxoZlHfWQ3uEgfrrmGDaK0A93od8TNC0k6sn1gY7I_822qkOkDE3m2l41_Tc2szBxofNb2b4nZU5rKLrGFWyK4IJucOk/s320/297150_2386079540816_1515615064_2569034_553628964_n.jpeg&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5722772240818733106&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;p class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;My situation is a little unique. In two months I will become a wife … and a step mother. I’m 21- years-old and he’s nine-years-old. Let me draw you a little picture.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;9 =&amp;gt; 21 =&amp;gt; 32&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;What does this mean to you? Not much. It didn’t mean much to me, until a little over a year ago. Michael is 9, I am 21 and Brandon is 32. Michael and I are 12 years apart and Brandon and I are about 11 years about.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;Yep. Almost an even split.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;I went looking for a wedding dress the other day and I brought Michael along, so I wouldn’t have to go alone. My consultant asks “Is it just your brother with you today?”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;Yeeeeaaaahhhhhhhh, he’s not my brother, he’s my future step-son.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;(Icky. I wish there was a better way to say that. “Step-son” has such harsh connotations.)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;While this would seem intimidating to a lot of people, I’ve never really thought too much about it. I keep getting questions like “How does it feel knowing you’re going to be a wife and a mom?”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;I guess I should feel some fear of the responsibilities I am going to be taking on, the consequences my actions will have for all of us, but I’m not.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;I grew up playing Mom. When you have six younger siblings and you start unofficially babysitting at 11 you don’t think too much about little things like being a step-mom.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;Plus, I always enjoy when we have Michael. Its my time with my boys. Sometimes Michael is like a son: When we do family activities, clean house, limit video games and read scriptures but there are times where Michael is like a brother. We love pulling pranks on Brandon and last weekend Michael and I went rollerblading and made homemade swords--my recipe.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;In the end, its kinda funny, Michael actually asks me for permission to do things, not Brandon. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/feeds/1771202294297913727/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2012/03/no-hes-not-my-brother.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/1771202294297913727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/1771202294297913727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2012/03/no-hes-not-my-brother.html' title='No. He’s not my brother'/><author><name>Kprettywoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14358038923014587114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJtmWCwS-nseveJRgxIeX0rE78mNNpbQZ7CD-dHS85EkFn7WETSXxg1gfk_yk6yEdUk58RBRFxu0t0fhuzYiptHYMoKiM94qkkUvgmxAnNcAU1_CH6YSzMP4ZWaBc5pw/s220/DSC_0032.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidoA4KnRYtcI5As5D8yBmtYo4VjSfR4JCbOs7CaCARVVAQzqaMkL21247Ctc4gBr7edfMQUjydb61aRmsQSb3qKvkYAWequZw25tqwdf4iPe-VgW3vao1dEki9UWdxFhhcYlqobeRVnnE/s72-c/389590_3505246359287_1515615064_3061967_960344488_n.jpeg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6396081913378266461.post-7578115688477021651</id><published>2012-03-09T11:58:00.003-08:00</published><updated>2012-03-09T12:16:32.658-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I can&#39;t stop dropping the F-Word</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtJqhAOqH_O-sO92Hb_HnwARBbagsLAvYsVXVEp6Clm4BRCTFHIDfIYHdtCancOevV3aoX4J6AxXfw3ksnKFNC-F9f_EhWqJLMG3BAT15Hxq9yv5BINbhq9g5AYarjnxfnOp8N3rHlqJ8/s1600/IMG_6428.JPG&quot; onblur=&quot;try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtJqhAOqH_O-sO92Hb_HnwARBbagsLAvYsVXVEp6Clm4BRCTFHIDfIYHdtCancOevV3aoX4J6AxXfw3ksnKFNC-F9f_EhWqJLMG3BAT15Hxq9yv5BINbhq9g5AYarjnxfnOp8N3rHlqJ8/s400/IMG_6428.JPG&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5717989733194676098&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Fiance. I only get to enjoy having one of these and being one of these for a couple of months. Since January, Brandon has been teasing me about proposing. The jokes were becoming relentless--and often disgusting. He loved making potty jokes with his son, Michael, about proposing to me.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was starting to get frustrated with all the jokes. In all honesty, I was ready to get this wedding crap started. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Monday was a gorgeous day but Tuesday was ugly, Tuesday is also my day off from school. So, Brandon decided to spend the day with me. I kept asking if he wanted to go work and he kept declining, while making excuses about the weather and needing a day off. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, we goofed off most of the day. We actually scored a super sweet vacuum at D.I. for ten dollars. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I thought that would be the highlight of my day, but it wasn&#39;t. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We were sitting in his living room that night and he decided to start teasing to me, again. Brandon told me to close my eyes and stick out my hand. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I told him, frankly, that I didn&#39;t want to, that I was tired of the teasing. He told me to do it anyway. So I did. Well, the butt started licking my finger and I open my eyes to tell him he&#39;s crazy, but all he says is to close them. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then he just pops the ring on my finger. He told me how much he loved me and wanted to marry me. And then a few seconds later he got on his knees and did it officially. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, I just thought I should tell our little story, mostly for memories sake. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am very excited to spend the rest of my life and hopefully someday the all of eternity with Brandon Felsted. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh and I&#39;m also excited to F&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;art with him for the rest of my life.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Get your mind out of the gutter. &lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/feeds/7578115688477021651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2012/03/i-cant-stop-dropping-f-word.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/7578115688477021651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/7578115688477021651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2012/03/i-cant-stop-dropping-f-word.html' title='I can&#39;t stop dropping the F-Word'/><author><name>Kprettywoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14358038923014587114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJtmWCwS-nseveJRgxIeX0rE78mNNpbQZ7CD-dHS85EkFn7WETSXxg1gfk_yk6yEdUk58RBRFxu0t0fhuzYiptHYMoKiM94qkkUvgmxAnNcAU1_CH6YSzMP4ZWaBc5pw/s220/DSC_0032.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtJqhAOqH_O-sO92Hb_HnwARBbagsLAvYsVXVEp6Clm4BRCTFHIDfIYHdtCancOevV3aoX4J6AxXfw3ksnKFNC-F9f_EhWqJLMG3BAT15Hxq9yv5BINbhq9g5AYarjnxfnOp8N3rHlqJ8/s72-c/IMG_6428.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6396081913378266461.post-7152357653131786317</id><published>2011-11-28T09:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-28T09:50:02.153-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I will be a genius</title><content type='html'>I haven&#39;t been on here for a while. The break was very nice and relaxing. Hardly any technology was involved. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I&#39;m doing some pretty awesome research and I&#39;m finishing it up in the next few weeks. I&#39;m hoping to get it published online at some point. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://byu.qualtrics.com/SE/?SID=SV_51I8UUaNaZ4arxG&quot;&gt;https://byu.qualtrics.com/SE/?SID=SV_51I8UUaNaZ4arxG&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/feeds/7152357653131786317/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2011/11/i-will-be-genius.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/7152357653131786317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/7152357653131786317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2011/11/i-will-be-genius.html' title='I will be a genius'/><author><name>Kprettywoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14358038923014587114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJtmWCwS-nseveJRgxIeX0rE78mNNpbQZ7CD-dHS85EkFn7WETSXxg1gfk_yk6yEdUk58RBRFxu0t0fhuzYiptHYMoKiM94qkkUvgmxAnNcAU1_CH6YSzMP4ZWaBc5pw/s220/DSC_0032.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6396081913378266461.post-6679204145925584474</id><published>2011-11-18T08:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-18T09:20:22.094-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I&#39;m a penny pincher, you can be one too part 1</title><content type='html'>I sometimes tend to be tight-fisted, a miser, stingy, cheapskate, moneygrubber but I can also be thrifty, prudent and frugal. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I mean there&#39;s nothing wrong with buying expired food and eating it, right? I can walk out of the grocery store with my shopping cart full of food and I don&#39;t spend more than $30.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;How do I do this? I shop as this little known dive in Salt Lake City that gets expired food or cancelled food shipments and then they sell their stuff for super cheap. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We&#39;ll get blocks of cheese for a dollar. Cookies for a dollar. Candy for a dollar. Sometimes we&#39;ll get these things for even cheaper. And don&#39;t think they only sell the cheap stuff. Most of the food they sell is top of the line. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There are some guidelines though, I don&#39;t buy any sketchy stuff. I have some dignity: No produce, no dairy except cheese, no meat. I mostly buy bottled juice, canned goods, packaged goods and frozen goods. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The place is disgusting. People push and shove to get food. And like I said, sometimes their some sketchy stuff there. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I like to take a couple weeks break before going back so I can rid myself of feeling like utter filth, but the deals are great and the food tastes great too--most of the time. We&#39;ve been going there for months and no food poisoning yet. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;iframe width=&quot;560&quot; height=&quot;315&quot; src=&quot;http://www.youtube.com/embed/Q32pYwn4D88&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; allowfullscreen=&quot;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/feeds/6679204145925584474/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2011/11/im-penny-pincher-you-can-be-one-too.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/6679204145925584474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/6679204145925584474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2011/11/im-penny-pincher-you-can-be-one-too.html' title='I&#39;m a penny pincher, you can be one too part 1'/><author><name>Kprettywoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14358038923014587114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJtmWCwS-nseveJRgxIeX0rE78mNNpbQZ7CD-dHS85EkFn7WETSXxg1gfk_yk6yEdUk58RBRFxu0t0fhuzYiptHYMoKiM94qkkUvgmxAnNcAU1_CH6YSzMP4ZWaBc5pw/s220/DSC_0032.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://img.youtube.com/vi/Q32pYwn4D88/default.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6396081913378266461.post-665863565991777001</id><published>2011-11-18T08:58:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-18T08:59:40.844-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Sara(h)&#39;s in my life Part 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;iframe width=&quot;420&quot; height=&quot;315&quot; src=&quot;http://www.youtube.com/embed/MWSV2wxFYaY&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; allowfullscreen=&quot;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;I remember&lt;/b&gt; looking at her upside down, when she was less than a year old. She looked like an alien, I still wonder if she is. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;From diapers to ten-year-old, my youngest sister--of the ten of us--is not an alien but she&#39;s a sleeper.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;While potty training she would fall asleep on the little toilet with her head resting on the adult toilet. One time she fell asleep on the floor, in front of the door and another time on the dresser. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sara, the bedhead. My first semester back from college, I remember sitting on the couch at 11 a.m. and Sara walks out of her room, barely awake, goes to the bathroom, comes out of the bathroom, looks at me and with that Sara voice says, &quot;WHAT?&quot;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love Sara for her wittiness. There hasn&#39;t been a time when I talked on the phone with her that I wasn&#39;t blown away by her intelligence; from math to telling me jokes for a half hour. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Gotta love that kid.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/feeds/665863565991777001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2011/11/sarahs-in-my-life-part-1.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/665863565991777001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/665863565991777001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2011/11/sarahs-in-my-life-part-1.html' title='The Sara(h)&#39;s in my life Part 1'/><author><name>Kprettywoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14358038923014587114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJtmWCwS-nseveJRgxIeX0rE78mNNpbQZ7CD-dHS85EkFn7WETSXxg1gfk_yk6yEdUk58RBRFxu0t0fhuzYiptHYMoKiM94qkkUvgmxAnNcAU1_CH6YSzMP4ZWaBc5pw/s220/DSC_0032.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://img.youtube.com/vi/MWSV2wxFYaY/default.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6396081913378266461.post-4003511583935756118</id><published>2011-11-18T07:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-16T18:51:02.150-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Sara (Sarah)&#39;s in my life, part 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvOeuS7xGklbY_0dUGN3dxamrE9qk1ZI1Wi6IL9zTE9kcOsAeyBplJ-79Q3HfDAc0tKWK_vX41Ql5puztxnCoez9wgldbLh_M1fwOWk36EGRvHmVtnyW2Vk8oGPTYjbN_cCp4b6NrhNU8/s1600/26290_1387980028952_1515615064_990436_6167206_n.jpeg&quot; onblur=&quot;try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvOeuS7xGklbY_0dUGN3dxamrE9qk1ZI1Wi6IL9zTE9kcOsAeyBplJ-79Q3HfDAc0tKWK_vX41Ql5puztxnCoez9wgldbLh_M1fwOWk36EGRvHmVtnyW2Vk8oGPTYjbN_cCp4b6NrhNU8/s400/26290_1387980028952_1515615064_990436_6167206_n.jpeg&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5676374130218867026&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Soup.&lt;/b&gt; She offered to help me drag my suitcases in after I had lugged them through six inches of snow, after I had spent twelve hours travelling. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I readily said &quot;yes.&quot; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I didn&#39;t know that the soup and bread would soon turn into a beautiful friendship. We had spent the semester before as FHE siblings but never became close. And then, suddenly, we were sharing a room and eating soup. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And moments after we finished the soup, she was dancing to gypsy punk rock music and singing for me--&lt;i&gt;Start Wearing Purple. &lt;/i&gt;Some of my favorite songs came from this grand woman: Rabbit Heart, Skinny Love, Manic and I, Welcome Home.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sarah is one amazing person. With style, class, beauty, and music she expanded my knowledge and creativity in ways I never imagined. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sarah writes music, sings and performs music. She can pretty much do anything, she&#39;s gifted.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But Sarah goes a step beyond being gifted. Her kindness to me and others has always been genuine. After breaking up with my sorta boyfriend, Sarah was immediately there to console me. I remember eating junk food in the park and flipping through Cosmo and laughing at all the ridiculous things in there with her. I remember us sitting down and making a list of things I was going to do to get over the guy who sorta broke my heart. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sarah has chosen to dedicate her life to others, even before she graduated with her bachelors in Sociology, she was serving as many people as she possibly could.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The fondest memory of Sarah was the wedding day of our friend Sage. We were beat. Sarah and I had spent the night before packing and cleaning and we didn&#39;t finish until the next morning, right before we went to the wedding. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We ran into Billy there--I feel like I used to run into Billy a lot, places and times I&#39;d never expect to see him. Weird.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, right after we went to Olive Garden and ran into my Stake Patriarch, who &quot;anonymously&quot; paid for our whole meal. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We were on a high. And so we decided to drive to Utah but then realized we were going to Montana and then realized we didn&#39;t know where we were going, we were just going. We ended up in the middle of nowhere and adventured for a while before going back to Rexburg and crashing on the floor of what would be my future apartment. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There are so many amazing, cherished memories that I have with Sarah and I hope to have more. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/feeds/4003511583935756118/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2011/11/sara-sarahs-in-my-life-part-2.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/4003511583935756118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/4003511583935756118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2011/11/sara-sarahs-in-my-life-part-2.html' title='The Sara (Sarah)&#39;s in my life, part 2'/><author><name>Kprettywoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14358038923014587114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJtmWCwS-nseveJRgxIeX0rE78mNNpbQZ7CD-dHS85EkFn7WETSXxg1gfk_yk6yEdUk58RBRFxu0t0fhuzYiptHYMoKiM94qkkUvgmxAnNcAU1_CH6YSzMP4ZWaBc5pw/s220/DSC_0032.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvOeuS7xGklbY_0dUGN3dxamrE9qk1ZI1Wi6IL9zTE9kcOsAeyBplJ-79Q3HfDAc0tKWK_vX41Ql5puztxnCoez9wgldbLh_M1fwOWk36EGRvHmVtnyW2Vk8oGPTYjbN_cCp4b6NrhNU8/s72-c/26290_1387980028952_1515615064_990436_6167206_n.jpeg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6396081913378266461.post-1714864181263119962</id><published>2011-11-18T07:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-18T07:33:29.166-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Da bears</title><content type='html'>There are some days where I am full to bursting with opinions and thoughts and then there are days--like the past few days--that I doubt my opinion and I lack the ability to update this blog. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I will post something for you tomorrow ... hopefully.&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/feeds/1714864181263119962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2011/11/da-bears.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/1714864181263119962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/1714864181263119962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2011/11/da-bears.html' title='Da bears'/><author><name>Kprettywoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14358038923014587114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJtmWCwS-nseveJRgxIeX0rE78mNNpbQZ7CD-dHS85EkFn7WETSXxg1gfk_yk6yEdUk58RBRFxu0t0fhuzYiptHYMoKiM94qkkUvgmxAnNcAU1_CH6YSzMP4ZWaBc5pw/s220/DSC_0032.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6396081913378266461.post-5061826390301844060</id><published>2011-11-17T12:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2013-04-18T15:46:52.471-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I&#39;d rather write about Evita than vampires</title><content type='html'>&lt;table align=&quot;center&quot; cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6MasHfq4lVMyJM0l-q8ugRiYddteY_cGBGMNbooKog8QBGCAPgREupdZbM1jtXoyDMFFDAqRYIaDXHOdLKrGrfXZ6SxZi_aZbFJziyIuBAVB9IP8HGOlwNt0AtF4HkGZA_fr5p5Vv5yA/s1600/evita.jpg&quot; onblur=&quot;try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;Evita vampire Evita forever Peron Argentina musical&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5676360372422848034&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6MasHfq4lVMyJM0l-q8ugRiYddteY_cGBGMNbooKog8QBGCAPgREupdZbM1jtXoyDMFFDAqRYIaDXHOdLKrGrfXZ6SxZi_aZbFJziyIuBAVB9IP8HGOlwNt0AtF4HkGZA_fr5p5Vv5yA/s400/evita.jpg&quot; style=&quot;display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;&quot; title=&quot;Evita vampire Evita forever Peron Argentina musical &quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Yeah. I turned Evita into a blood sucking vampire; not appealing.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
Blood ran down my neck, I felt woozy, the vampire stared at me with love, lust and horror on his face. His nose began to run and ... Not. I made you look. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
This isn&#39;t going to be a vampire book, I don&#39;t even know if I can guarantee blood, or lust or violence or even some language that would make a rapper blush. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
But you&#39;ll only know if you read on. &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
Twenty one, thats how old I am. I am currently working on my masters, on becoming a prodigy, but I am also currently working to get out of my bed as this very moment too. What can I say, I&#39;m a working woman, dedicated and stuff.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
I guess thats why I suddenly felt the need to write a book. I once thought &quot;I&#39;ll write it about vampires&quot; but then Stephanie Meyer--did I spell that right?-- beat me to the punch. &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
I also considered wizards, elves, worms and snot. &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
Thats one thing I can guarantee, this book will be a little runny. I mean, I&#39;ve gotta capture every audience and kids love snot, farts, boogers and poop jokes, so I&#39;ll be sure to slide some in every now and then. &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
The music I&#39;m listening to is a little runny, like my nose. Promise to not make fun of me? Evita. I&#39;m listening to Evita and to make it worse, its the Madonna version. I was stuck on some modern, radio stereotypical rap crap but I switched back to all my old classic stuff, if you consider Evita to be a classic anything. &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
Moody Blues is the next thing I will probably listen too. Am I moody? No, but they&#39;re not either. &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
Anyway, this is all very random but I am going to write a book. Something horrendously embarrassing and very honest. &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
I&#39;m not going to try and make money off it, heck I may not even bind it but if you want to read it, there will be a chapter posted on here every now and then. &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
Read it. &lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/feeds/5061826390301844060/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2011/11/id-rather-write-about-evita-than.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/5061826390301844060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/5061826390301844060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2011/11/id-rather-write-about-evita-than.html' title='I&#39;d rather write about Evita than vampires'/><author><name>Kprettywoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14358038923014587114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJtmWCwS-nseveJRgxIeX0rE78mNNpbQZ7CD-dHS85EkFn7WETSXxg1gfk_yk6yEdUk58RBRFxu0t0fhuzYiptHYMoKiM94qkkUvgmxAnNcAU1_CH6YSzMP4ZWaBc5pw/s220/DSC_0032.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6MasHfq4lVMyJM0l-q8ugRiYddteY_cGBGMNbooKog8QBGCAPgREupdZbM1jtXoyDMFFDAqRYIaDXHOdLKrGrfXZ6SxZi_aZbFJziyIuBAVB9IP8HGOlwNt0AtF4HkGZA_fr5p5Vv5yA/s72-c/evita.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6396081913378266461.post-7618344168627647376</id><published>2011-11-15T21:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-18T07:39:28.800-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I will eat food out of a dog&#39;s mouth</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbvNkuXiOb6nVY4wfPExDMZJoZKR2xqzIEprrgx2nKvp4zTS3_9xBir5hw4-ZuqVg8tWJeJDS0DOSQMpPrcV6a2t8aZ5soQEGxFFHyFYY8OyvskAaJDXkc-ZBXwRoOr4h7b8xks2XUXOg/s1600/barack-obama-kissing-dog.jpeg&quot; onblur=&quot;try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 250px;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbvNkuXiOb6nVY4wfPExDMZJoZKR2xqzIEprrgx2nKvp4zTS3_9xBir5hw4-ZuqVg8tWJeJDS0DOSQMpPrcV6a2t8aZ5soQEGxFFHyFYY8OyvskAaJDXkc-ZBXwRoOr4h7b8xks2XUXOg/s400/barack-obama-kissing-dog.jpeg&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5676360905775987282&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know how much I hate dogs? Well, if I get 500 hits on my blog in one day, then I will put a video/photo up on here of me eating food out of a dog&#39;s mouth, unless you have any other ideas? Please feel free to comment. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Also, if I get 1500 people to take this survey, I will do something else crazy and put a video up for everyone to see. Click the link below to take the survey. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://byu.qualtrics.com/SE/?SID=SV_51I8UUaNaZ4arxG&quot;&gt;https://byu.qualtrics.com/SE/?SID=SV_51I8UUaNaZ4arxG&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/feeds/7618344168627647376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2011/11/i-will-eat-food-out-of-dogs-mouth.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/7618344168627647376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/7618344168627647376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2011/11/i-will-eat-food-out-of-dogs-mouth.html' title='I will eat food out of a dog&#39;s mouth'/><author><name>Kprettywoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14358038923014587114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJtmWCwS-nseveJRgxIeX0rE78mNNpbQZ7CD-dHS85EkFn7WETSXxg1gfk_yk6yEdUk58RBRFxu0t0fhuzYiptHYMoKiM94qkkUvgmxAnNcAU1_CH6YSzMP4ZWaBc5pw/s220/DSC_0032.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbvNkuXiOb6nVY4wfPExDMZJoZKR2xqzIEprrgx2nKvp4zTS3_9xBir5hw4-ZuqVg8tWJeJDS0DOSQMpPrcV6a2t8aZ5soQEGxFFHyFYY8OyvskAaJDXkc-ZBXwRoOr4h7b8xks2XUXOg/s72-c/barack-obama-kissing-dog.jpeg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6396081913378266461.post-7542022074114096839</id><published>2011-11-11T09:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2013-04-18T15:47:53.506-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Staff Sgt. Gibbs: Is he really guilty?</title><content type='html'>&lt;table align=&quot;center&quot; cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ-pjhaE8YUAbrnCi1bKSP_bcIAAPEU6UDg9pwQSf4snZs_n982DSlEcz2nFj9SIgiYIba7ZBlR0zWWE1uOBdmWyYHK9u4hQ6Iy-S3jQJi_m1BbWRDSbDWtUjOHii5Z3e0Qm14epKu7W4/s1600/b1b5e_111028042442-sgt-gibbs-afghan-sport-killings-story-top.jpeg&quot; onblur=&quot;try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;Sgt. Gibbs staff sergeant calvin gibbs&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673796633478453042&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ-pjhaE8YUAbrnCi1bKSP_bcIAAPEU6UDg9pwQSf4snZs_n982DSlEcz2nFj9SIgiYIba7ZBlR0zWWE1uOBdmWyYHK9u4hQ6Iy-S3jQJi_m1BbWRDSbDWtUjOHii5Z3e0Qm14epKu7W4/s400/b1b5e_111028042442-sgt-gibbs-afghan-sport-killings-story-top.jpeg&quot; style=&quot;display: block; height: 225px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;&quot; title=&quot;Sgt. Gibbs staff sergeant calvin gibbs&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Staff Sgt. Gibbs&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
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&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background: white; color: #333333; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-fareast-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;&quot;&gt;I don’t know why, but I feel this is an issue I must write about. I want to discuss the sentencing of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.5pt;&quot;&gt;Staff Sgt. Calvin Gibbs, of Billings, Mont.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-fareast-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;&quot;&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: &#39;Trebuchet MS&#39;; font-size: 13px;&quot;&gt;If you haven’t read the story, &lt;a href=&quot;http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052970204358004577030600215003584.html&quot;&gt;here is a link for it&lt;/a&gt;. Read it and then read the rest of this—because I said to and because it’s an important part of history and the news.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: &#39;Trebuchet MS&#39;; font-size: 13px;&quot;&gt;So, a lot of comments were posted on this story on major news websites; many condemned Gibbs to hell, many were sympathetic and many blamed desensitization for why Gibbs did what he did—I don’t think this is completely right, especially in this situation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: &#39;Trebuchet MS&#39;; font-size: 13px;&quot;&gt;Here are some of the comments, one is from the Washington Post, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: &#39;Trebuchet MS&#39;; font-size: 13px;&quot;&gt;&quot;When you take a kid out of his normal environment and turn him into a killing machine by returning him to this hell hole known as active duty, numerous times (vs national draft and one tour), what do you expect? &quot;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: &#39;Trebuchet MS&#39;; font-size: 13px;&quot;&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background: white; color: #333333; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-fareast-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;&quot;&gt;Or from the &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/11/10/calvin-gibbs-soldier-_n_1087180.html&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #3366cc;&quot;&gt;Huffington Post&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background: white; color: #333333; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-fareast-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;&quot;&gt;&quot; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; color: #333333; font-family: &#39;Trebuchet MS&#39;; font-size: 10pt;&quot;&gt;Every soldier responds to death in wars differentl­y. Some are simply overwhelme­d when confronted with the carnage of human life and loss of friends in combat. Every man has a breaking point and some men are much more fragile than others and respond differentl­y. We read about war and watch it on TV however, when you are participat­ing, it is a most terrible experience­.&quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: &#39;Trebuchet MS&#39;; font-size: 13px;&quot;&gt;Yes, I feel that men are scarred from war. They will be prone to violence, to anger, to sadness, to depression.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: &#39;Trebuchet MS&#39;; font-size: 13px;&quot;&gt;But I do not feel that this endorses a soldier to target and kill an innocent civilian for no reason except sport.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: &#39;Trebuchet MS&#39;; font-size: 13px;&quot;&gt;I give this example, if you were in the United States and you shot a woman walking down the street, because she was a woman and you didn’t like women, you would be tried and likely given a life sentence.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: &#39;Trebuchet MS&#39;; font-size: 13px;&quot;&gt;This is how I see Gibbs and his sentence. Plus, if you factor in that not only did he kill these people and set the scene up so that they looked as if they were a threat (by planting weapons on them or saying they fired at him) but he also chopped off their fingers, pulled out a tooth and took photos with the victims to use as trophies.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: &#39;Trebuchet MS&#39;; font-size: 13px;&quot;&gt;I believe a person can become desensitized but this goes beyond desensitization, this is full out premeditated, blatant killing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: &#39;Trebuchet MS&#39;; font-size: 13px;&quot;&gt;I will point out that these people aren&#39;t the majority, and so I would like to pay tribute to those who don&#39;t get satisfaction in killing but know that they are defending their life, their liberty and their family. God bless you for your sacrifices.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: &#39;Trebuchet MS&#39;; font-size: 13px;&quot;&gt;Also, what are you feelings on all of this?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;background: white; color: #333333; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-fareast-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;&quot;&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/feeds/7542022074114096839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2011/11/staff-sgt-gibbs-is-he-really-guilty.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/7542022074114096839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6396081913378266461/posts/default/7542022074114096839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kprettywoman.blogspot.com/2011/11/staff-sgt-gibbs-is-he-really-guilty.html' title='Staff Sgt. Gibbs: Is he really guilty?'/><author><name>Kprettywoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14358038923014587114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJtmWCwS-nseveJRgxIeX0rE78mNNpbQZ7CD-dHS85EkFn7WETSXxg1gfk_yk6yEdUk58RBRFxu0t0fhuzYiptHYMoKiM94qkkUvgmxAnNcAU1_CH6YSzMP4ZWaBc5pw/s220/DSC_0032.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ-pjhaE8YUAbrnCi1bKSP_bcIAAPEU6UDg9pwQSf4snZs_n982DSlEcz2nFj9SIgiYIba7ZBlR0zWWE1uOBdmWyYHK9u4hQ6Iy-S3jQJi_m1BbWRDSbDWtUjOHii5Z3e0Qm14epKu7W4/s72-c/b1b5e_111028042442-sgt-gibbs-afghan-sport-killings-story-top.jpeg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>