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<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3775428</id><updated>2010-03-10T10:44:38.128-08:00</updated><title type="text">kimbalina.com</title><subtitle type="html" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.kimbalina.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25" /><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Kimbalina" /><author><name>kimbalina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11147575006517022216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>811</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Kimbalina" /><feedburner:info uri="kimbalina" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3775428.post-6230674830566037890</id><published>2010-02-22T12:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-22T12:02:11.155-08:00</updated><title type="text">what? me? not patient? what??</title><content type="html">With all the rain that's been blessing the Bay Area, all the hills on my drive to work are turning a nice green. Gorgeous! I take it in all the days I go into work and try to enjoy it as much as possible before they turn their nice golden California color for the rest of the year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You'd think that since every other lawn is turning green...that our lawn would also. But no! So last week, I requested that my gardener (aka husband) put some fertilizer on our lawn so it would turn green.&amp;nbsp; That was 4 days ago. And every day since, I stand at the window and will my grass to turn green, then turn and question out loud why my grass is not yet green. Come on!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who cares if it is supposed to take a couple of weeks...I need immediate results dangit!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3775428-6230674830566037890?l=www.kimbalina.com%2Findex.html' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/6230674830566037890/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3775428&amp;postID=6230674830566037890&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/6230674830566037890" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/6230674830566037890" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Kimbalina/~3/IW6lCv8LHhc/what-not-patient-what.html" title="what? me? not patient? what??" /><author><name>kimbalina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11147575006517022216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="09899971138605849543" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.kimbalina.com/2010/02/what-not-patient-what.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3775428.post-2993894248828357757</id><published>2010-01-24T20:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-24T20:46:55.857-08:00</updated><title type="text">rain, rain, don't go away, but maybe come back another day</title><content type="html">We've been having massive downpours (well massive to wimpy Californians) over the past week or two. Crazy wind, thunder/lightning, water coming down in buckets....and I am LOVING it! Really, there is nothing like snuggling on the couch with a blanket, cup of tea, and the fireplace going while it is raining cats and dogs outside.&amp;nbsp; Oh, and having an excuse to wear green polka dot rainboots is also pretty great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The one only time I do not like rain is when I have to drive long distances which is a few days a week for me.&amp;nbsp; But...I guess that would be too much to ask to have it rain only on certain days, please? Okay fine, I will just sit here...and in traffic...enjoying the rain while it lasts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3775428-2993894248828357757?l=www.kimbalina.com%2Findex.html' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/2993894248828357757/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3775428&amp;postID=2993894248828357757&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/2993894248828357757" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/2993894248828357757" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Kimbalina/~3/FoJEEu5DLTk/rain-rain-dont-go-away-but-maybe-come.html" title="rain, rain, don't go away, but maybe come back another day" /><author><name>kimbalina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11147575006517022216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="09899971138605849543" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.kimbalina.com/2010/01/rain-rain-dont-go-away-but-maybe-come.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3775428.post-1620687969032612488</id><published>2009-12-31T13:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-31T15:24:50.246-08:00</updated><title type="text">Counting my blessings</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/kimbalina/4231521879/" title="1! by kimbalina, on Flickr"&gt;&lt;img alt="1!" height="160" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4027/4231521879_4df09ec8e2_m.jpg" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This time last year, we celebrated New Years in a hospital where our babies were in the NICU.&amp;nbsp; At that time, imagining living a normal life with babies outside of a hospital seemed like only a dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year, we are celebrating a year full of joy, laughter, and many memories with two perfect, happy, and healthy 1 year olds.&amp;nbsp; Praise the Lord!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy New Year!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3775428-1620687969032612488?l=www.kimbalina.com%2Findex.html' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/1620687969032612488/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3775428&amp;postID=1620687969032612488&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/1620687969032612488" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/1620687969032612488" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Kimbalina/~3/pwevxvJCTjE/counting-my-blessings.html" title="Counting my blessings" /><author><name>kimbalina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11147575006517022216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="09899971138605849543" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.kimbalina.com/2009/12/counting-my-blessings.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3775428.post-2916128201391429553</id><published>2009-12-22T09:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-23T09:25:59.389-08:00</updated><title type="text">so spoiled</title><content type="html">I have been fortunate enough that basically my entire adult career, I have been completely and utterly spoiled by my employers.&amp;nbsp; The companies I've worked for have had the motto of "work hard. play hard." and to both, I can do quite well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Along with the "regular" perks of movies, trips, warm meals, cool gadgets etc. there are also a few other "perks".&amp;nbsp; If the kitchen doesn't have something you really want? Just ask for it, and pretty much soon thereafter, tadaa!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend and I went out shopping during lunch one day and we stopped at Williams Sonoma to pick up some gifts for Christmas.&amp;nbsp; And that...is when it happened. I smelled the peppermint hot chocolate. Mammas. And then after I tried it? I was hooked.&amp;nbsp; That was some good fancy hot chocolate there! The taste and the smell lingered with me back to the office where I made my special request for peppermint hot chocolate.&amp;nbsp; Later that day, one of the guys came to my desk and told me he looked all over and couldn't find any peppermint hot chocolate so he got me some hot chocolate and some peppermint syrup to make one. Great! And then...I mentioned how I had seen some at Williams Sonoma.&amp;nbsp; An hour later, he walked by my desk waving a bag from Williams Sonoma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*gasp*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now, I am sitting here sipping on the most yummy peppermint hot chocolate ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Snob.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3775428-2916128201391429553?l=www.kimbalina.com%2Findex.html' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/2916128201391429553/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3775428&amp;postID=2916128201391429553&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/2916128201391429553" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/2916128201391429553" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Kimbalina/~3/ggEr3q-17as/so-spoiled.html" title="so spoiled" /><author><name>kimbalina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11147575006517022216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="09899971138605849543" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.kimbalina.com/2009/12/so-spoiled.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3775428.post-1558428324180673060</id><published>2009-12-19T09:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-23T09:23:30.556-08:00</updated><title type="text">Aloha ʻOe</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/kimbalina/4147801044/" title="Sunset in Maui by kimbalina, on Flickr"&gt;&lt;img alt="Sunset in Maui" height="160" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2654/4147801044_a9d7da2938_m.jpg" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;About a month ago, we went for a nice long restful vacation in Maui.&amp;nbsp; The weather was absolutely perfect and warm, the beaches and waterfalls were amazing, and the best part? The kids were perfect little angels and had a blast playing on the beach, swimming in the ocean (more like floating in their floaties), and playing in the pool.&amp;nbsp; My little miss was so happy and brave she even wanted to go through the waterfalls with me.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love. Love. Love. Maui.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/kimbalina/4147800124/" title="Untitled by kimbalina, on Flickr"&gt;&lt;img alt="" height="160" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2515/4147800124_720bdcf4a8_m.jpg" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3775428-1558428324180673060?l=www.kimbalina.com%2Findex.html' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/1558428324180673060/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3775428&amp;postID=1558428324180673060&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/1558428324180673060" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/1558428324180673060" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Kimbalina/~3/Np-oMWJndnU/aloha-oe.html" title="Aloha ʻOe" /><author><name>kimbalina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11147575006517022216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="09899971138605849543" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.kimbalina.com/2009/12/aloha-oe.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3775428.post-6691609674395222972</id><published>2009-12-03T08:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-23T09:09:05.153-08:00</updated><title type="text">sleeptalking</title><content type="html">This morning, my dear hubby woke me up at my usual unheard of wakeup time.&amp;nbsp; In my half asleep state, I said to him, "Can't you see I'm covered in oil? Why aren't you helping me??"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently I talk in my sleep. And this isn't the first time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In fact, almost every other night, I ask my hubby for a sweatshirt or pair of socks and when asked what kind of sweatshirt I'd like or which pair of socks, I specify. And yet, I never remember any of this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have also once sat up in bed shouting profanities and another time stuck my arm out, smiled, and air petted my dog saying "awww max".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey, gotta keep life exciting.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3775428-6691609674395222972?l=www.kimbalina.com%2Findex.html' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/6691609674395222972/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3775428&amp;postID=6691609674395222972&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/6691609674395222972" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/6691609674395222972" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Kimbalina/~3/U5R0EgttGPc/sleeptalking.html" title="sleeptalking" /><author><name>kimbalina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11147575006517022216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="09899971138605849543" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.kimbalina.com/2009/12/sleeptalking.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3775428.post-602245872952663816</id><published>2009-11-30T15:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-30T15:16:19.628-08:00</updated><title type="text">real cute</title><content type="html">I met an old friend for lunch today who I haven't seen in 9 or 10 years.&amp;nbsp; After a long hug hello, she looked at me, then brushed some popcorn off of my cheek and eyebrows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Real cute.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3775428-602245872952663816?l=www.kimbalina.com%2Findex.html' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/602245872952663816/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3775428&amp;postID=602245872952663816&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/602245872952663816" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/602245872952663816" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Kimbalina/~3/bhkD_uQgVk8/real-cute.html" title="real cute" /><author><name>kimbalina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11147575006517022216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="09899971138605849543" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.kimbalina.com/2009/11/real-cute.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3775428.post-7390156590084394172</id><published>2009-10-13T07:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T13:23:48.407-07:00</updated><title type="text">sometimes a girl just needs some hot chocolate</title><content type="html">It is pouring rain outside and the wind is gusting.&amp;nbsp; Perfect weather for rain boots and hot chocolate.&amp;nbsp; So I went to the kitchen at work this morning to get some hot chocolate but it was all on the top shelf and I couldn't reach it.&amp;nbsp; I thought about waiting and coming back later when the kitchen would be hustling and bustling and a person not as vertically challenged could help me, but the sudden &lt;i&gt;need&lt;/i&gt; for hot chocolate came over me.&amp;nbsp; It is cold and rainy...and I &lt;i&gt;need&lt;/i&gt; it.&amp;nbsp; It was still early so nobody came to my rescue to help with this sudden urge I had to consume large quantities of piping hot chocolate.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I reeeeached with no luck. I tried jumping and slowly hitting the box towards me with each jump.&amp;nbsp; The other part of this plan (the rain boots) prevented me from having my usual hops.&amp;nbsp; I found a plastic knife on the counter and tried using that to somehow push the box towards me.&amp;nbsp; When finally...with a combination of all of these things and some mad stretching skills on my part, I got my hot chocolate. Woohoo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back at my desk, I happily sipped on my well earned cup of hot chocolate while I told Bertrand about my adventures in acquiring it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was when my wonderful hubby asked me why I didn't just pull up a chair to get it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3775428-7390156590084394172?l=www.kimbalina.com%2Findex.html' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/7390156590084394172/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3775428&amp;postID=7390156590084394172&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/7390156590084394172" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/7390156590084394172" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Kimbalina/~3/_vY4-Lqf_H4/sometimes-girl-just-needs-some-hot.html" title="sometimes a girl just needs some hot chocolate" /><author><name>kimbalina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11147575006517022216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="09899971138605849543" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.kimbalina.com/2009/10/sometimes-girl-just-needs-some-hot.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3775428.post-5295733927145502079</id><published>2009-10-05T09:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-05T09:28:36.565-07:00</updated><title type="text">stuff that makes me smile</title><content type="html">I found an old email I sent myself back in 05' titled, "stuff that makes me smile".&amp;nbsp; Reading through this list brought back a huge rush of memories, smiles, and a little pang realizing how fast time has flown by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't remember half of the stuff I wrote down here, but they obviously meant a lot to me at the time, that of all moments, I chose to write them down. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you were a part of my life during this time...you probably recognize a few of these.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;Frappuchino Head&lt;br /&gt;Ghetto dance videos (Denise, Joie, me)&lt;br /&gt;Dan - "I'm too sexy"&lt;br /&gt;The 'feet' smell at Tine's desk&lt;br /&gt;Breaking out singing the Gummi Bears theme song during a meeting&lt;br /&gt;"Bing Bing"&lt;br /&gt;Bread&lt;br /&gt;The bathroom 'incident' in Hollywood&lt;br /&gt;Bertrand jumping at landmarks in LA&lt;br /&gt;Surprise party&lt;br /&gt;heart necklace from Bertrand&lt;br /&gt;Human foosball&lt;br /&gt;CW's Brittney phone ring, and dancing in our seats (me, cw, tine)&lt;br /&gt;Goldman's kids&lt;br /&gt;Groping our way through the pitch black theatre to find a seat for Anchorman&lt;br /&gt;Elbowing Steve in the face&lt;br /&gt;Jason's dirty dance&lt;br /&gt;Tine's booger flicking&lt;br /&gt;Decepting&lt;br /&gt;Silly moose&lt;br /&gt;Bus dance&lt;br /&gt;Tine's sesame pimple&lt;br /&gt;Getting stuck in the elevator&lt;br /&gt;Revo cable&lt;br /&gt;Cord on the ear during meeting&lt;br /&gt;da proof of da pudding is in da eatin&lt;br /&gt;Not matching&lt;br /&gt;Gr8 Sax&lt;br /&gt;Funny bone - hairy palm&lt;br /&gt;He's a normal person Kimmy, he just likes to do math&lt;br /&gt;HOT jumpsuit&lt;br /&gt;Pummelos on the freeway&lt;br /&gt;Free is free&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;It was so nice to find this list and actually made my Monday morning a little bit better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to reinstate my "stuff that makes me smile" list for a rainy day.&amp;nbsp; It's always good to add a smile to your day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3775428-5295733927145502079?l=www.kimbalina.com%2Findex.html' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/5295733927145502079/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3775428&amp;postID=5295733927145502079&amp;isPopup=true" title="8 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/5295733927145502079" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/5295733927145502079" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Kimbalina/~3/2En1ZU0QOpo/stuff-that-makes-me-smile.html" title="stuff that makes me smile" /><author><name>kimbalina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11147575006517022216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="09899971138605849543" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">8</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.kimbalina.com/2009/10/stuff-that-makes-me-smile.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3775428.post-1130240324439258350</id><published>2009-10-05T08:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-05T08:27:20.717-07:00</updated><title type="text">just being a boy</title><content type="html">My little man loves to crawl in tiny impossible spaces.&amp;nbsp; He can freely roam throughout his large play area and crawl around with his sister and explore the many toys strewn about, yet he always prefers to take the smaller more difficult route.&amp;nbsp; He loves to go "offroading" and doesn't really care too much about how he gets there...as long as he does.&amp;nbsp; So whatever is in his way, he will crawl over, under, or through it.&amp;nbsp; My little princess on the other hand is a dainty little perfectionist and has to do what she does the "right" way otherwise, she would rather wait.&amp;nbsp; If they want to reach a toy and I am in the way, Kylie will crawl around me.&amp;nbsp; Brendan will either crawl over me, or push me over, so that he can get where he needs to go.&amp;nbsp; One time, my dad was visiting and laying on the floor on his side with the kids, resting his head in his hand.&amp;nbsp; Brendan crawled through that hole between my Dad's head and the ground.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His adventurous attitude and affinity for small spaces is usually quite entertaining and fun to watch him just be a boy.&amp;nbsp; It does sometimes get him in trouble though...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QwLkzNhqxto/SskSlAfo6XI/AAAAAAAAK2U/0OOZ6uLk3fg/s1600/bm-image-776792.jpe" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QwLkzNhqxto/SskSlAfo6XI/AAAAAAAAK2U/0OOZ6uLk3fg/s320/bm-image-776792.jpe" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3775428-1130240324439258350?l=www.kimbalina.com%2Findex.html' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/1130240324439258350/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3775428&amp;postID=1130240324439258350&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/1130240324439258350" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/1130240324439258350" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Kimbalina/~3/cRiXJoOVAqk/just-being-boy.html" title="just being a boy" /><author><name>kimbalina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11147575006517022216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="09899971138605849543" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QwLkzNhqxto/SskSlAfo6XI/AAAAAAAAK2U/0OOZ6uLk3fg/s72-c/bm-image-776792.jpe" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.kimbalina.com/2009/10/just-being-boy.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3775428.post-707685925783115400</id><published>2009-09-30T22:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-30T23:50:02.568-07:00</updated><title type="text">Sometimes I wish my life was a musical</title><content type="html">Think of the possibilities. How great would that be?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you're sad, you just let out some heart wrenching ballad. When you're happy, you and whatever friends or strangers around, join in with you in a song and dance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is also something incredibly beautiful and moving when a bunch of people, especially complete strangers, can come together in unity and do something so beautiful and fun. Forget about all our worries and whatever disagreements or beliefs...and just sing and dance together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is why I am obsessed with &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flash_mob"&gt;flash mobs&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://www.fox.com/glee/"&gt;Glee&lt;/a&gt;.&amp;nbsp; This is why although I will admit, a little pathetic, seeing the flash mob on Oprah, the &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VQ3d3KigPQM"&gt;T-mobile commercial&lt;/a&gt;, or &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zlfKdbWwruY"&gt;Matt&lt;/a&gt; dance around the world can bring a tear to my eye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can't we just all dance and sing together? =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3775428-707685925783115400?l=www.kimbalina.com%2Findex.html' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/707685925783115400/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3775428&amp;postID=707685925783115400&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/707685925783115400" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/707685925783115400" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Kimbalina/~3/L-DI6JiHjHI/sometimes-i-wish-my-life-was-musical.html" title="Sometimes I wish my life was a musical" /><author><name>kimbalina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11147575006517022216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="09899971138605849543" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.kimbalina.com/2009/09/sometimes-i-wish-my-life-was-musical.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3775428.post-1067450641118380847</id><published>2009-09-27T22:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-27T22:35:02.981-07:00</updated><title type="text">mommy moments</title><content type="html">The other day after getting my babies down for a nap after a morning of eating, playing, and cuddling I went to take a shower and as I took off my shirt, two cheerios fell out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later that day, while out running errands and heading back to my car, I reached into my purse to grab my keys...and grabbed these keys instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/kimbalina/3961803574/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="keys &amp;amp; cheerios by kimbalina, on Flickr"&gt;&lt;img alt="keys &amp;amp; cheerios" height="159" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2491/3961803574_cf2516c0a4_m.jpg" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little moments in life are most often the most precious.&amp;nbsp; I love being a mommy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3775428-1067450641118380847?l=www.kimbalina.com%2Findex.html' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/1067450641118380847/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3775428&amp;postID=1067450641118380847&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/1067450641118380847" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/1067450641118380847" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Kimbalina/~3/IXGfHyiBGrw/mommy-moments.html" title="mommy moments" /><author><name>kimbalina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11147575006517022216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="09899971138605849543" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.kimbalina.com/2009/09/mommy-moments.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3775428.post-1652982832369393526</id><published>2009-08-24T23:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T23:16:36.667-07:00</updated><title type="text">Look Ma! No hands!</title><content type="html">Every day, my babies learn something new.  Every day is a new adventure or a funny moment.  This weekend I was teaching them how to play with stacking cups. My little man crawled over to me and laid on his back looking up at me.  I told him..."don't move" and then doing a near impossible task for an 8-month old, my little man stayed very very still.  I then stacked three cups on his head as he balanced it while we both giggled (and he still kept them balanced!).  Finally, I was laughing too hard and he caught the case of mommy's giggles that the little tower tumbled over...and he crawled away to a new adventure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/kimbalina/3855347316/" title="Look Ma! No hands! by kimbalina, on Flickr"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3483/3855347316_bb7e8bd509_m.jpg" alt="Look Ma! No hands!" height="240" width="180" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next...Mommy will teach me to juggle.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3775428-1652982832369393526?l=www.kimbalina.com%2Findex.html' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/1652982832369393526/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3775428&amp;postID=1652982832369393526&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/1652982832369393526" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/1652982832369393526" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Kimbalina/~3/0g5CtUBzqjc/look-ma-no-hands.html" title="Look Ma! No hands!" /><author><name>kimbalina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11147575006517022216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="09899971138605849543" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.kimbalina.com/2009/08/look-ma-no-hands.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3775428.post-8902151630882612658</id><published>2009-08-24T08:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T09:00:45.173-07:00</updated><title type="text">abibas</title><content type="html">I left a pair of flip-fops at work in case of emergency. You know, a foot emergency. When your feet just can't handle being in those cute pair of heels anymore.  Since they flip-flops were only for "emergencies", I didn't want to leave a cute pair.  What if I wanted to wear the cute pair but they were stuck at work? So I left a pair of my knock-off flip-flops I bought off a street vendor in Vietnam for 50 cents.  They say "abibas".  My abibas shoes are awesome and are the ultimate ghetto footwear. Perfect in case of emergency since I won't miss them or be wearing them on a daily basis as cute foot attire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little did I know...or really think through...that a foot emergency happens just about every other day.  So these special abibas shoes make a constant appearance at work.  So much so, that I've just gotten used to them and their comfort and slip them on when I get to work. I was blinded by comfort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, one day I happened to mention my emergency shoes to my friend who decided that after my &lt;a href="http://www.kimbalina.com/2008/11/so-this-is-what-it-comes-to.html"&gt;fur-lined crocs&lt;/a&gt;...this was strike two and that I am on my way to a shoe intervention from my girlfriends. (When did I become &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; girl?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other week I was wearing abibas around the office when one of my guy friends looks down at my feet and says, "what are you &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;wearing&lt;/span&gt;?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man...I guess it's time for some new emergency shoes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3775428-8902151630882612658?l=www.kimbalina.com%2Findex.html' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/8902151630882612658/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3775428&amp;postID=8902151630882612658&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/8902151630882612658" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/8902151630882612658" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Kimbalina/~3/8KsR0LE6Ijg/abibas.html" title="abibas" /><author><name>kimbalina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11147575006517022216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="09899971138605849543" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.kimbalina.com/2009/08/abibas.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3775428.post-3255046013975884748</id><published>2009-08-17T08:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-17T08:51:31.790-07:00</updated><title type="text">famous among random kids...at costco</title><content type="html">The other week, I walked by the school near my house where a kid runs up to the gate and shouts out, "Hey! I know you.  Remember I saw you at Costco?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am now, "that Costco lady".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3775428-3255046013975884748?l=www.kimbalina.com%2Findex.html' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/3255046013975884748/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3775428&amp;postID=3255046013975884748&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/3255046013975884748" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/3255046013975884748" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Kimbalina/~3/cfY7OHDuFxI/famous-among-random-kidsat-costco.html" title="famous among random kids...at costco" /><author><name>kimbalina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11147575006517022216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="09899971138605849543" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.kimbalina.com/2009/08/famous-among-random-kidsat-costco.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3775428.post-714415832952471666</id><published>2009-08-10T15:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-10T15:35:51.371-07:00</updated><title type="text">get a map already, dude</title><content type="html">&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.kimbalina.com/uploaded_images/Android_and_cupcake-742296.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://www.kimbalina.com/uploaded_images/Android_and_cupcake-741870.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met up with my good ole' pal and buddy Tine for lunch today over at Google...you know, where I worked and practically lived for 5 years.  After chatting on the phone, we agreed to meet in front of Building 46, "in front of that dude".   I told her I was a minute away and she said she was heading out of the building.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I got there....parked in front of the robot "dude" and sat waiting for my friend to make her quick exit to my car.  10 minutes later....where is Tine? I thought she was on her way out? So I looked around and thought maybe she had to stop at the bathroom on the way down or got caught by someone in the hall.  Finally...15 minutes after saying we'd meet "in a minute", she calls me and says "I'm on the corner of Charleston and Huff".  That means nothing to me.  "Umm...I am in front of 46...I don't see you"  Then she looks around and says, "Where?? I don't see you. I'll go find you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, I'm right by the robot dude."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's Building 44!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dude. We are dorks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Word to the wise. Do not give directions to others using the word "dude".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3775428-714415832952471666?l=www.kimbalina.com%2Findex.html' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/714415832952471666/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3775428&amp;postID=714415832952471666&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/714415832952471666" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/714415832952471666" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Kimbalina/~3/-10RhSF2teo/get-map-already-dude.html" title="get a map already, dude" /><author><name>kimbalina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11147575006517022216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="09899971138605849543" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.kimbalina.com/2009/08/get-map-already-dude.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3775428.post-3197699170775466647</id><published>2009-08-10T09:41:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-10T09:41:59.431-07:00</updated><title type="text">Probably not a good sign</title><content type="html">It's probably not a good sign if your babies laugh when you say "No". =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3775428-3197699170775466647?l=www.kimbalina.com%2Findex.html' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/3197699170775466647/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3775428&amp;postID=3197699170775466647&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/3197699170775466647" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/3197699170775466647" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Kimbalina/~3/aw3g9-6o4vM/probably-not-good-sign.html" title="Probably not a good sign" /><author><name>kimbalina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11147575006517022216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="09899971138605849543" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.kimbalina.com/2009/08/probably-not-good-sign.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3775428.post-3707391030666715130</id><published>2009-07-29T13:58:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-29T14:05:19.297-07:00</updated><title type="text">a decade ago...</title><content type="html">&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.kimbalina.com/uploaded_images/IMG_3978-739536.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://www.kimbalina.com/uploaded_images/IMG_3978-739532.JPG" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to my 10 year high school reunion this past weekend. 10 years?! Really? Why does it feel like just the other day and at the same time...much longer than 10 years ago?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For awhile...I wasn't sure if I wanted to go, but I am so glad I did.  I had a blast! So much fun. It was also so very weird being in such a crowded space and yet everywhere you turned...there was a familiar face and yet...not quite so familiar.  There were far too many funny moments, old stories and memories discussed, and just overall good times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm looking forward to the 20 year!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3775428-3707391030666715130?l=www.kimbalina.com%2Findex.html' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/3707391030666715130/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3775428&amp;postID=3707391030666715130&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/3707391030666715130" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/3707391030666715130" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Kimbalina/~3/eduMBrOC3_4/decade-ago.html" title="a decade ago..." /><author><name>kimbalina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11147575006517022216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="09899971138605849543" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.kimbalina.com/2009/07/decade-ago.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3775428.post-1116505297236817001</id><published>2009-06-24T08:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-24T08:14:15.558-07:00</updated><title type="text">oblivious</title><content type="html">This morning, I was sitting at my desk deep in thought when one of my coworkers comes running in and asks me, "Did you shut the fire doors???"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um. what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Did you hear the fire doors shut? They would make a huge bang." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um. I don't know...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then, her and another guy start racing around the office looking for the fire. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FIRE!! And I am just sitting here typing away on my computer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later on...I told her that before 7 in the morning...I am so unaware and oblivious, that if there ever is a fire, one of the two other early birds needs to run in here and save me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Okay Kimmy, we will come save you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3775428-1116505297236817001?l=www.kimbalina.com%2Findex.html' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/1116505297236817001/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3775428&amp;postID=1116505297236817001&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/1116505297236817001" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/1116505297236817001" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Kimbalina/~3/wv0uf0adetA/oblivious.html" title="oblivious" /><author><name>kimbalina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11147575006517022216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="09899971138605849543" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.kimbalina.com/2009/06/oblivious.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3775428.post-333985014338320357</id><published>2009-06-21T22:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-21T22:12:11.247-07:00</updated><title type="text">Almost...but not quite</title><content type="html">Little girl: Are the babies identical twins?&lt;br /&gt;Me: No, they are fraternal. One is a boy and one is a girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;A few minutes later...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little girl (to her friend): Look! They are twins.  They're nocturnal.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3775428-333985014338320357?l=www.kimbalina.com%2Findex.html' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/333985014338320357/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3775428&amp;postID=333985014338320357&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/333985014338320357" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/333985014338320357" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Kimbalina/~3/NSbz8Oot3zQ/almostbut-not-quite.html" title="Almost...but not quite" /><author><name>kimbalina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11147575006517022216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="09899971138605849543" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.kimbalina.com/2009/06/almostbut-not-quite.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3775428.post-8243237447728300438</id><published>2009-06-12T20:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-12T20:43:02.743-07:00</updated><title type="text">dazed</title><content type="html">You know you're tired when you wash your face with conditioner and your hair with face wash.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not like I would know...just sayin'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3775428-8243237447728300438?l=www.kimbalina.com%2Findex.html' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/8243237447728300438/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3775428&amp;postID=8243237447728300438&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/8243237447728300438" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/8243237447728300438" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Kimbalina/~3/Q3vn0uTkb9I/dazed.html" title="dazed" /><author><name>kimbalina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11147575006517022216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="09899971138605849543" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.kimbalina.com/2009/06/dazed.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3775428.post-3104335371164345041</id><published>2009-06-11T23:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-11T23:29:49.739-07:00</updated><title type="text">spamburger</title><content type="html">I went to a Hawaiian BBQ place today for lunch.  I ordered a Spam and Eggs Burger and was stoked to try one for the first time.  Spam = good, Eggs = good, Burger = good.  Combination of all of the above? Excited! So excited, I took a picture of it before I dug in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QwLkzNhqxto/SjFoFFAwtjI/AAAAAAAAKO4/V1jbX1Kciys/s320/bm-image-792543.jpe"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QwLkzNhqxto/SjFoFFAwtjI/AAAAAAAAKO4/V1jbX1Kciys/s320/bm-image-792543.jpe" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weird. I don't SEE any Spam.  Maybe they ground it all up and made it into a patty instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took a big ole bite.  It was just a regular old cheeseburger.  They screwed up my order and I was too hungry to go fix it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spamburger fail.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3775428-3104335371164345041?l=www.kimbalina.com%2Findex.html' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/3104335371164345041/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3775428&amp;postID=3104335371164345041&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/3104335371164345041" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/3104335371164345041" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Kimbalina/~3/l9r_gUdkmek/spamburger.html" title="spamburger" /><author><name>kimbalina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11147575006517022216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="09899971138605849543" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QwLkzNhqxto/SjFoFFAwtjI/AAAAAAAAKO4/V1jbX1Kciys/s72-c/bm-image-792543.jpe" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.kimbalina.com/2009/06/spamburger.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3775428.post-5166558648342323528</id><published>2009-05-25T09:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-25T21:52:45.706-07:00</updated><title type="text">Memorial Day</title><content type="html">Mom: So our church is having a picnic on Memorial Day weekend.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Oh yeah? When is Memorial Day?&lt;br /&gt;Mom: Well, it's a day where we stop and remember those who fought for us.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Oh. When...not what. hehe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I definitely know what Memorial Day is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you soldiers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3775428-5166558648342323528?l=www.kimbalina.com%2Findex.html' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/5166558648342323528/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3775428&amp;postID=5166558648342323528&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/5166558648342323528" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/5166558648342323528" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Kimbalina/~3/xioLByQd0gs/memorial-day.html" title="Memorial Day" /><author><name>kimbalina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11147575006517022216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="09899971138605849543" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.kimbalina.com/2009/05/memorial-day.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3775428.post-4457788323074974753</id><published>2009-05-12T14:41:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-12T14:48:17.870-07:00</updated><title type="text">firsts</title><content type="html">The past couple of weeks have been full of firsts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went on our first family vacation...the babies got to see the ocean and the beach for the first time...they got their first colds, and on Sunday, I got to celebrate my first Mother's Day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QwLkzNhqxto/SgXfHC44EZI/AAAAAAAAKK8/XMHc9Z9AJVU/s320/bm-image-780912.jpe" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333914645817725330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love firsts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3775428-4457788323074974753?l=www.kimbalina.com%2Findex.html' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/4457788323074974753/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3775428&amp;postID=4457788323074974753&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/4457788323074974753" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/4457788323074974753" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Kimbalina/~3/DKiFdsva-Vw/firsts.html" title="firsts" /><author><name>kimbalina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11147575006517022216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="09899971138605849543" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QwLkzNhqxto/SgXfHC44EZI/AAAAAAAAKK8/XMHc9Z9AJVU/s72-c/bm-image-780912.jpe" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.kimbalina.com/2009/05/firsts.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3775428.post-1649066425647111932</id><published>2009-05-06T20:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-06T21:04:01.775-07:00</updated><title type="text">isn't it obvious?</title><content type="html">My twin babies weren't born with very much hair.  They've both got just enough to cover their heads but it will probably take awhile before any flowing locks of hair are blowing in the wind. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we go out in public, I try to dress them up in the "typical" girl/boy outfits and colors just so it is obvious which is the boy and which is the girl.  I put my little lady all in pink, with a little bow on her head, and occasionally a dress and my little man all in blue.  And yet...it never ceases to fail, that at some point, somebody will stop us and ask...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Twins!! Two boys? Two girls?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A boy and a girl."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh! How perfect! Which one is the boy and which one is the girl?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Um. The one in the pink dress with the bow is the girl.  The one in blue is the boy."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3775428-1649066425647111932?l=www.kimbalina.com%2Findex.html' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/1649066425647111932/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3775428&amp;postID=1649066425647111932&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/1649066425647111932" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3775428/posts/default/1649066425647111932" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Kimbalina/~3/NHhnfZqUAQU/isnt-it-obvious.html" title="isn't it obvious?" /><author><name>kimbalina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11147575006517022216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="09899971138605849543" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.kimbalina.com/2009/05/isnt-it-obvious.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>
