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<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/rss2full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><rss xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" version="2.0"><channel><atom:id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971931067916723206</atom:id><lastBuildDate>Sat, 28 Jan 2012 03:42:38 +0000</lastBuildDate><category>childhood</category><category>mini skirts</category><category>line dancing</category><category>sisters</category><category>bugs</category><category>attraction</category><category>shopping</category><category>nice guys</category><category>birthday party</category><category>online 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baths</category><category>allergies</category><category>dreams</category><category>mud</category><category>mammograms</category><category>thrift stores</category><category>pregancy</category><category>dates</category><category>nurses</category><category>pms</category><category>vibrators</category><category>snow</category><category>home repair</category><category>new years eve</category><category>whte people</category><category>fathers</category><title>The Bubble Bath Queen</title><description>There is nothing a bubble bath and a glass of wine can't fix</description><link>http://www.thebubblebathqueen.com/</link><managingEditor>noreply@blogger.com (Carol)</managingEditor><generator>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>402</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/rss+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/TheBubbleBathQueen" /><feedburner:info uri="thebubblebathqueen" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><feedburner:browserFriendly></feedburner:browserFriendly><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971931067916723206.post-5753156142944362881</guid><pubDate>Thu, 26 Jan 2012 03:14:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-01-25T20:14:32.112-07:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">streaking</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">best friends</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Old Faithful</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">family</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">camping</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">farts</category><title>Happy Birthday to my bestest friend Old Faithful</title><description>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LbEO4oCR8vQ/TyDEgEUS7oI/AAAAAAAAEWo/w6cYMiVOrfs/s1600/best-friends-forever.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" gda="true" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LbEO4oCR8vQ/TyDEgEUS7oI/AAAAAAAAEWo/w6cYMiVOrfs/s320/best-friends-forever.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Today is the lovely Trina's birthday.There are so many things I could tell you about her, she's such a good mom, a fantastic cook. the best friend anyone could ask for, all that mushy stuff. Instead I'm going to tell you about the Trina we all know and love. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My friend Trina is a little, tiny bit clumsy, she once broke her elbow trying to teach her son to ding dong ditch. That's right, after she knocked she tried to run away and fell down my front steps and broke her elbow.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
She got me back though. She took the front porch off her house so I fell out the front door and had to get stitches in my calf.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mostly Trina is funny and a little gassy, ok, a lot gassy. She's gonna kill me for this but it's the one story that every time I think of it makes me laugh so hard I snort.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We went to Yellowstone, me, Trina, my sister Angie, our spouses and children. While we were waiting to see Old Faithful Trina needed to pass gas. Eating all those beans over the campfire will do that to you. She waited patiently for my ex husband to walk away. My ex husband never passed gas in front of anyone, no matter what, so she waited.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
When he walked away she leaned over and said "I'm so glad he's gone, I'm soooo gassy." And she let it rip. Well, let's just say everyone who was within twenty five feet heard it, it even made the bench vibrate. Silent but deadly it was not.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And just in case some of the people didn't hear it, her son jumped up and started yelling, "Mom did you just fart? Ewww, my Mom just farted." It was freaking hysterical, I was very close to peeing my pants.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But she got me back, as always. But I will not tell you that story because it's Trina's birthday so this is all about her.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Trina is also the only person I know who can fall in a porta potty. We weren't even shaking it, she fell all on her own, Clay and I stood outside and laughed our asses off. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Somehow Trina, Clay and I started a tradition of streaking on New Years Eve. No idea why, I mean who in their right mind does that in the middle of winter, but that's how we start the new year.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The first year they were in their new house they were worried about the neighbors so we decided to make naked snow angels instead. There was a crust on the snow and the only one of us heavy enough to break through it was Clay, so he made his snow angel while Trina and I laid on top of the snow and tried our damnedest. It didn't work and we started laughing. We laughed so hard Trina peed a little so we had one snow angel, some rub marks and yellow snow. We made sure to tell the kids not to eat the yellow snow.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Another year we went out on New Years, something we rarely do, so we had to streak on the way home, in Home Depot's parking lot. Trina had quite a bit to drink that year and wasn't feeling her best, she was laying in the front seat when Clay pulled over. Being the concerned husband and friend we are, we drug her out of the car, stripped her and made her streak anyway. I think it helped her feel better but I could be mistaken.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I won't tell you anymore, I need to save something for next year. Although I will probably have new stories by then.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I will tell you that Trina is the best friend I could ask for, she is always there for me. Trina is not only my friend, she is a friend to my whole family and an aunt to my daughter. My sisters and I call her&amp;nbsp;the other sister because she is a part of our family.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;Trina has held my hand more times than I can count and when I'm at my lowest she always reminds me that I'm worth so much more than I think. I'm grateful every day for the road that brought me to Utah and led me right to the doorstep of this wonderful, beautiful woman.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Thanks for being my friend Trina Beana, I love you more than words can say.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3971931067916723206-5753156142944362881?l=www.thebubblebathqueen.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.thebubblebathqueen.com/2012/01/happy-birthday-to-my-bestest-friend-old.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Carol)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LbEO4oCR8vQ/TyDEgEUS7oI/AAAAAAAAEWo/w6cYMiVOrfs/s72-c/best-friends-forever.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>5</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971931067916723206.post-7176607700199879361</guid><pubDate>Wed, 25 Jan 2012 04:56:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-01-24T21:56:28.501-07:00</atom:updated><title>Sometimes I'm crazy</title><description>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kv71F9FeJvQ/Tx-LCEnyhhI/AAAAAAAAEWg/GZtQb1NHt2Y/s1600/taz51.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" gda="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kv71F9FeJvQ/Tx-LCEnyhhI/AAAAAAAAEWg/GZtQb1NHt2Y/s1600/taz51.gif" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I know what you're thinking but it really is only sometimes that I'm crazy. Today, maybe tomorrow and a little bit yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I have too much to do. Not really, I don't have to anything but go to work, when I come home I could fall into a coma every night if I wanted cause I'm the boss of me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Instead, I find projects for myself. I think right now I'm trying to stay busy so I won't think so much about Hailey moving out next week. So I create.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Tonight I made dinner, a scarf,&amp;nbsp; worked on another scarf,started dresses for the wee girls in my life, made a pair of moccasins for&amp;nbsp;Baby Cook, crocheted&amp;nbsp; a bib,&amp;nbsp;wrote several blogs, did&amp;nbsp; yoga, cleaned the kitchen and now I'm crashing.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The bad thing about these projects is that I have no attention span so nothing ever gets finished, there is just a whole lotta starting going on. So although it sounds like I did a crap ton of stuff tonight here is what I really did.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Reheated leftovers that are still sitting on the stove.&lt;br /&gt;
Sewed a scarf the wrong way and put it aside to fix another day.&lt;br /&gt;
Appliqued fabric hearts onto two t shirts that will be dresses when I get around to sewing the tulle on the bottom.&lt;br /&gt;
Stitched the moccasins, I cut the fabric out a few nights ago.&lt;br /&gt;
Worked one side of the bib and about ten rows on the scarf.&lt;br /&gt;
Did fifteen minutes of yoga.&lt;br /&gt;
Threw away the trash in the kitchen and piled the dishes.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In between all of that I added to the three blog pages that I had open so that I could dazzle you with my brilliance. And this is what you get.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I think the doctor sad I have ADD but I really wasn't paying attention.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3971931067916723206-7176607700199879361?l=www.thebubblebathqueen.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.thebubblebathqueen.com/2012/01/sometimes-im-crazy.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Carol)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kv71F9FeJvQ/Tx-LCEnyhhI/AAAAAAAAEWg/GZtQb1NHt2Y/s72-c/taz51.gif" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>5</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971931067916723206.post-1122185267979088576</guid><pubDate>Tue, 24 Jan 2012 01:05:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-01-23T18:05:28.966-07:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">stripper pole</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">starfish</category><title>I really do share too much with you people</title><description>I have no shame, I'm sure you know that by now but I will prove it again today. After reading&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.thebubblebathqueen.com/2012/01/and-winner-for-best-party-favor-is.html"&gt;yesterday's post&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I'm sure there were many of you who lost sleep&amp;nbsp;trying to figure out just what a starfish on a stripper pole looked like. Well, wonder no more. With the help of my amazing sister Angie and my sweet friend Sandi, I won the gold in the stripper pole Special Olympics. And I'm sharing it with you. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uZd64F1u9Iw/Tx4DdkB9KvI/AAAAAAAAEWY/lwnPWXaISzA/s1600/396306_10150623071231934_599601933_11233721_960837646_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="214" nfa="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uZd64F1u9Iw/Tx4DdkB9KvI/AAAAAAAAEWY/lwnPWXaISzA/s320/396306_10150623071231934_599601933_11233721_960837646_n.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3971931067916723206-1122185267979088576?l=www.thebubblebathqueen.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.thebubblebathqueen.com/2012/01/i-really-do-share-too-much-with-you.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Carol)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uZd64F1u9Iw/Tx4DdkB9KvI/AAAAAAAAEWY/lwnPWXaISzA/s72-c/396306_10150623071231934_599601933_11233721_960837646_n.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>5</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971931067916723206.post-8810390232604296375</guid><pubDate>Sun, 22 Jan 2012 23:38:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-01-22T16:38:22.514-07:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">stipper pole</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">birthday party</category><title>And the winner for best party favor is....</title><description>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Db0cjlzE4qI/TxyaAbDYqFI/AAAAAAAAEV8/byEwKruSUfA/s1600/247.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="213" nfa="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Db0cjlzE4qI/TxyaAbDYqFI/AAAAAAAAEV8/byEwKruSUfA/s320/247.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;My last couple blogs have been difficult to write because I had a secret and I'm terrible at keeping secrets. Wednesday will be Trina's 40th birthday and her husband and I racked our brains trying to come up with the perfect birthday.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Since Clay and I are both pretty brain dead most of the time we fell back on that old standby, the surprise party. I have to say, for two lame party planners, it went great.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Clay took Trina to dinner so I could work my magic at their house. I think he may have been a little stressed about everything turning out perfectly as evidenced by the shoes he wore to dinner.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_Nu21LRs8mU/Txybwf3aemI/AAAAAAAAEWE/ofUtOr_bDbo/s1600/406546_10150619234636934_599601933_11217719_962836773_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" nfa="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_Nu21LRs8mU/Txybwf3aemI/AAAAAAAAEWE/ofUtOr_bDbo/s320/406546_10150619234636934_599601933_11217719_962836773_n.jpg" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Angie and Ryan got there early to help me with the food and decorations and then Noelle and Blake showed up to help as well. Blake and Ryan installed Trina's birthday present and the best party favor ever- a stripper pole! I told Noelle and Angie as they were installing it that I could see a trip to the emergency room in Trina's future.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Those of you have know Trina know that she can break an elbow knocking on someones door, she wasn't called the Megaklutz for nothing. As usual, Trina did not disappoint. Once she got over the initial shock of a bunch of people in her house and noticed the pole, she went for it. Trina jumped on that pole and&amp;nbsp;knocked it &amp;nbsp;down, if not for the heavy duty wood shutters on the window in the front room, she would have gone through it. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Fortunately both Trina and window were fine, although the shutters will bear the scars forever. The men quickly went to work reinstalling and making the pole safe for all.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-68klxlB-K6A/TxycxtCRsYI/AAAAAAAAEWM/k9vAwOWxJX8/s1600/262.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="213" nfa="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-68klxlB-K6A/TxycxtCRsYI/AAAAAAAAEWM/k9vAwOWxJX8/s320/262.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;After that, it was on, everyone at the party spun around that pole numerous times, including Trina and Clay's kids. It was hysterical. Trina, Angie and I helped each other on the pole, it was pretty funny, how many women does it take to hang off a stripper pole?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;We looked like handicap strippers still working the pole.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
All in all, a fun night was had by everyone. If you take the stripper out of a stripper pole it really is good family fun for everyone!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3971931067916723206-8810390232604296375?l=www.thebubblebathqueen.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.thebubblebathqueen.com/2012/01/and-winner-for-best-party-favor-is.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Carol)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Db0cjlzE4qI/TxyaAbDYqFI/AAAAAAAAEV8/byEwKruSUfA/s72-c/247.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>5</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971931067916723206.post-851857090724882439</guid><pubDate>Fri, 20 Jan 2012 01:55:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-01-19T18:55:06.424-07:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">best friends</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">nurses</category><title>If your best friend is a nurse, find a new best friend</title><description>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0pfdCd6nN6E/TxjJB6sT-VI/AAAAAAAAEV0/OIKo5DEQrDk/s1600/nurse-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" nfa="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0pfdCd6nN6E/TxjJB6sT-VI/AAAAAAAAEV0/OIKo5DEQrDk/s320/nurse-1.jpg" width="235" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
My best friend Trina is a nurse. I know that sounds like a good thing because sometimes they help you, like when you think you have Parkinson's disease but really you're just shaky from too much yard work, then it's a good thing.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Most of the time it's not, because not only is Trina a nurse but she is my official worrier. I never worry about my health because I know Trina is on it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Last night as I was soundly sleeping, minding my own business, my phone rang, it was Trina. Now when my phone rings when I'm asleep I think there is something wrong with the person on the other end, not me, after all, I was sleeping.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The conversation, as I remember it, went something like this:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Me-Hello?&lt;br /&gt;
Trina- What's wrong?&lt;br /&gt;
Me- Ummm, nothing? (I'm not sure what's the right answer, after all, I'm asleep)&lt;br /&gt;
Trina- Nothing? What about the numbness? The muddled brain?&lt;br /&gt;
Me- Oh that, it's nothing.&lt;br /&gt;
Trina- That's not nothing, did you go to the doctor?&lt;br /&gt;
Me-No, I slept wrong, except for the brain thing.&lt;br /&gt;
Trina- Is your hand still numb?&lt;br /&gt;
Me- Ummm, no. ( I'm still asleep, I have no idea really but that seemed like the right answer.)&lt;br /&gt;
Trina- You were asleep weren't you?&lt;br /&gt;
Me- Yes&lt;br /&gt;
Trina- Ok, goodnight.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I laid there for about a half an hour, waiting for the ambulance. Trina knows I won't go to the doctor if nothing hurts because in my experience if it doesn't hurt when I get there, it will by the time I leave and I am not signing up for that.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Like that time I fell out of her house and impaled my leg on a post holder. I wouldn't agree to go to the hospital until she showed me her hand and said, "That's meat, from inside your leg, we're going, now."&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Anyway, the ambulance didn't come and I fell back to sleep. Today after work, the phone rings, it's Trina. Now because I have the attention span of a gnat, I've forgotten about yesterday, after all, that was like, yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Trina- So what's going on?&lt;br /&gt;
Me- Nothing, just fixing dinner.&lt;br /&gt;
Trina- With your hand and your brain.&lt;br /&gt;
Me- Oh, that was nothing, I'm fine today.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; And then I changed the subject because like me, Trina is easily distracted. It worked, we talked about other things, life is good.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So that is why you shouldn't be friends with a nurse, or if you are, don't let her read your blog.. And by the way, today I have no numbness and my brain has resumed the usual hamster wheel spinning that passes for intelligence around here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3971931067916723206-851857090724882439?l=www.thebubblebathqueen.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.thebubblebathqueen.com/2012/01/if-your-best-friend-is-nurse-find-new.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Carol)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0pfdCd6nN6E/TxjJB6sT-VI/AAAAAAAAEV0/OIKo5DEQrDk/s72-c/nurse-1.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971931067916723206.post-5817960005916982681</guid><pubDate>Thu, 19 Jan 2012 03:32:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-01-18T20:32:28.478-07:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">confusion</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">blogger issues</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">mud</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">tingling fingers</category><title>Today kinda sucked hairy eyeballs</title><description>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RYbCHGqxIsY/TxeOY7E0zvI/AAAAAAAAEVs/-BVL4Kg07b4/s1600/dumb_woman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" nfa="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RYbCHGqxIsY/TxeOY7E0zvI/AAAAAAAAEVs/-BVL4Kg07b4/s1600/dumb_woman.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
It's not Monday but it should be. First I woke up, crazy I know. Anyway, my left hand was numb and tingly, I thought I slept wrong but when two of my fingers were still like that two hours later I decided it was either a tumor or a stroke so I better get some work done before I had to go to the hospital and have my appendix removed or something.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So I tried to work, but apparently last night I slept in mud, but only with my head because my brain was full of it today and I couldn't seem to grasp even the simplest things. I asked people to speak slowly and loudly like you would to a person who doesn't speak English, but it didn't help.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I made it through the day with my numb fingers and mud filled head only to find myself wandering Walmart. I know lots of people who don't like Walmart but I love it, they have everything, I don't need to go anywhere else. I bought some food or something, and some baby stuff, cause you never know when a random baby will fall out of the sky and need wipes, some fabric and a few toddler t-shirts so I can make Ivy some tutu dresses. Oh and hummus,lots and lots of hummus.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I came home, read some blogs, ate some Oreos-stop judging me- and tried to read the comments on my blog, but I can't. I can read everyone else's blog but mine. I would stomp my foot and complain to blogger but it may have something to do with the tingling and the mud. I should probably get my tires rotated.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Tomorrow will be better. And yes, unfortunately this is exactly how my brain worked all day. I would say that maybe I accidentally got stoned but I'm pretty sure that is more fun than this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3971931067916723206-5817960005916982681?l=www.thebubblebathqueen.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.thebubblebathqueen.com/2012/01/today-kinda-sucked-hairy-eyeballs.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Carol)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RYbCHGqxIsY/TxeOY7E0zvI/AAAAAAAAEVs/-BVL4Kg07b4/s72-c/dumb_woman.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>4</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971931067916723206.post-715599840743896013</guid><pubDate>Wed, 18 Jan 2012 04:18:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-01-17T21:18:26.570-07:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">oreos</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">exercise</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">reading</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">writing</category><title>I need one of those exercise chairs, someone invent one please.</title><description>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jmkGLOn6rK4/TxZHTbqMLTI/AAAAAAAAEVk/8qYgDiujdgE/s1600/Fat_6dfd4c_1036796.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="262" kba="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jmkGLOn6rK4/TxZHTbqMLTI/AAAAAAAAEVk/8qYgDiujdgE/s320/Fat_6dfd4c_1036796.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
It's been lovely having my computer back, I've been able to catch up on everyone's blogs and even comment a little. I'm getting caught up on the blogs I write for Families.com, which is good because I was feeling like a major slacker.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
At work we are doing a weight loss challenge and since I would like to go outside in shorts and a tank top this summer and not frighten small children with my bat wing arms, I thought I would join.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As usual this was the brain child of the skinny women in the office. Why are they always the first one to jump on the lets get skinny bandwagon? Oh wait, that's probably why they are skinny, never mind.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Anyway, we had to weigh in on Monday and I want you to know that the scale they use is a filthy liar! I've never weighed that much in my life! Guess it's a good thing I'm doing this weight loss thing huh?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yesterday I was pretty good, I didn't eat anything bad for me and even exercised for like five minutes. My whole problem is that my life is spent on my ass. At work, I sit in a chair at a computer, all day. Then I come home, sit in a chair at the computer and read and write, all night long. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So really, I think you guys need to take some of the responsibility for the size of my big, big bottom, after all, it's your blogs and Facebook posts I'm reading all night.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I wasn't so good today. I ate some licorice at work, and when I came home I was starving. So while dinner was cooking I ate Oreos. Just don't tell Trina, last time she found out I ate a whole package of Oreos she gave me a lecture about my arteries. Damn her and her healthy arteries. She's just jealous that I have Oreos and she doesn't.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So I need to find a way to exercise while sitting on my butt eating Oreos. Any ideas?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3971931067916723206-715599840743896013?l=www.thebubblebathqueen.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.thebubblebathqueen.com/2012/01/i-need-one-of-those-exercise-chairs.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Carol)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jmkGLOn6rK4/TxZHTbqMLTI/AAAAAAAAEVk/8qYgDiujdgE/s72-c/Fat_6dfd4c_1036796.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971931067916723206.post-8496880373647306195</guid><pubDate>Tue, 17 Jan 2012 01:16:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-01-16T18:16:47.408-07:00</atom:updated><title>The clouds parted and the sun shined again</title><description>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-us8S8lt28Xg/TxTLnq2HpVI/AAAAAAAAEVc/YKtnetVETQE/s1600/Computer-Cartoon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="264" kba="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-us8S8lt28Xg/TxTLnq2HpVI/AAAAAAAAEVc/YKtnetVETQE/s320/Computer-Cartoon.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
At least that's how it felt when Clay said my computer was fixed. Now for the rest of you who have a life this probably isn't that important to you but to me, it's my lifeline.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
See, every time my daughter makes me a little bit crazier, I can come here and tell all of you about it. How is she making me crazy now you ask? She's getting married. On May 19th.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yes, it wasn't enough that she was moving out and leaving her mother all alone to &lt;strike&gt;have naked time&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strike&gt;&amp;nbsp; cry her eyes out, now she wants to get married too.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So here we go round the Mulberry bush. I don't even know what to say about this particular turn of events, I've asked them both to wait,&amp;nbsp; they've both insisted now is the time.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So seize the day, get married have twenty freaking kids in the next two years. At least I have my computer. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I know I kind of ditched my New Years resolution about blogging but I decided not to beat myself up over things I can't control. I'm back on track now and you will be hearing more from me. whether you like it or not.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3971931067916723206-8496880373647306195?l=www.thebubblebathqueen.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.thebubblebathqueen.com/2012/01/clouds-parted-and-sun-shined-again.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Carol)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-us8S8lt28Xg/TxTLnq2HpVI/AAAAAAAAEVc/YKtnetVETQE/s72-c/Computer-Cartoon.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971931067916723206.post-1938137469868537300</guid><pubDate>Fri, 13 Jan 2012 05:30:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-01-12T22:30:26.603-07:00</atom:updated><title>Still no computer</title><description>This will be short and sweet, do you have any idea how hard it is to type a blog on a smart phone. Not a lot of fun friends and neighbors.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I'm taking this computerless time to learn more about myself. So far I've discovered I'm whiny and spoiled. And I need to get out more.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Hope everyone had a lovely day, the unicorns are making their way back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3971931067916723206-1938137469868537300?l=www.thebubblebathqueen.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.thebubblebathqueen.com/2012/01/still-no-computer.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Carol)</author><thr:total>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971931067916723206.post-3706296341245286899</guid><pubDate>Thu, 12 Jan 2012 02:58:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-01-11T19:58:54.600-07:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">computers</category><title>E Machine, I hate thee</title><description>Disclaimer: I may or may not drop the f bomb more than once in this post, if that's offensive to you, come back tomorrow, there are sure to be unicorns coming out of my ass by then.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Me and electronics have a love/hate relationship. I love them, they hate me. Even though I spend outrageous sums of money on them, still the hate.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My computer, which is not even two years old took a tremendous&amp;nbsp; dump last night while I was sleeping. Seriously, how can you break a&amp;nbsp; computer while you are fucking sleeping? &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I woke up this morning and came downstairs to this weird screen telling me something was having trouble repairing itself.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Fiddle dee dee, I'll worry about it later Scarlett, and off to work I went. When I came home I begged Alex and bribed him with Subway to fix it, please for the love of God, fix it!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Well, he's done his best and I am able to use it but it's weird, nothing is right and I don't know what to do about it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The bad part is, now I have nothing to do. All I do when I'm not at work doing that thing they pay me to do, is write. I come home from work, grab a jar of peanut butter, a spoon and a glass of wine and sit in front of the computer.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Now, I have nothing. What do people do without computers? Wash dishes? We're talking about a spoon and a wine glass, not exactly hours of work. I've been pacing, I'm going to need new carpet soon, I'm starting to wear a path in it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I have a netbook but I hate it, it's too small, it makes everyone on Facebook look like they've lost weight and that's depressing because I'm becoming more and more peanut butter jar shaped. I hate those skinny people on netbook Facebook. I'm going to unfriend them all.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I hate to think it is time already for another computer but I am so dependent on this fucking heartless thing that I don't know what to do without it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Maybe I'll go to the coffee shop and try to make friends with people who have computers.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
That's all I got, I'm mad and I'm bitchy. Hopefully tomorrow we will return you to your regularly scheduled program of happy shit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3971931067916723206-3706296341245286899?l=www.thebubblebathqueen.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.thebubblebathqueen.com/2012/01/e-machine-i-hate-thee.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Carol)</author><thr:total>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971931067916723206.post-3761010015251238296</guid><pubDate>Wed, 11 Jan 2012 02:39:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-01-10T19:39:38.579-07:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">clementine</category><title>Do dogs need friends?</title><description>So between my kid leaving me and my dog ignoring me, I just don't know what to do with myself lately. I've been writing, a lot, and I've also been crafting, I love to craft and when Hailey was little I couldn't wait for the time I could spend an uninterrupted day in my craft room.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Be careful what you wish for. Now I could spend a year in there and that kid wouldn't notice, unless we were out of ramen noodles or toilet paper.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In the middle of all of this I've been feeling sorry for Clementine. I know I really shouldn't, bossy little thing that she is, but Hailey really does pay more attention to her than I do. I'm thinking maybe I should get her a dog. Clementine, not Hailey.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The only problem is that Clementine doesn't really like other dogs. There are some dogs she likes but most of them she attacks. When you weight nine pounds this is not a good way to&amp;nbsp;make friends or even make it to your next birthday.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We got a second dog a while ago. A beautiful German Shepherd named Sadie. I loved her little face, Clementine hated her. This poor puppy could not get a seconds peace. Even when she was asleep Clementine would attack her. I stuck it out for about two months thinking Clem would come around but it got so bad that I thought Clementine was going to have a stroke. She would get so worked up at the sight of Sadie that she was shaking&amp;nbsp; and growling and drooling while she was lunging and biting. Poor Sadie, poor Clementine. I was also afraid that Sadie was going to get tired of Clem attacking her and accidentally hurt her, after all, at six months she had her by about forty pounds.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So I found a home for Sadie, she's happy, Clementine's happy but I miss her. Now I'm thinking Clem needs a friend to play with. Maybe I'll take her to the pound with me and let her pick one out. I'll have to see what the return policy is, just in case.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3971931067916723206-3761010015251238296?l=www.thebubblebathqueen.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.thebubblebathqueen.com/2012/01/do-dogs-need-friends.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Carol)</author><thr:total>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971931067916723206.post-1381702189318778526</guid><pubDate>Tue, 10 Jan 2012 02:54:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-01-09T19:54:40.310-07:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">teenagers</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">leaving home</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Clementne</category><title>She's really leaving me, guess I'm not the boss of her anymore</title><description>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-t1zu4kJG8Jg/TwuoMHZe36I/AAAAAAAAEVQ/KJ_OQTRlTYk/s1600/IMG_1182.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="213" rea="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-t1zu4kJG8Jg/TwuoMHZe36I/AAAAAAAAEVQ/KJ_OQTRlTYk/s320/IMG_1182.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I knew this day would come, I just had no idea it would come this soon. Today Hailey came home after work with the lease she and Alex just signed. Do these people not understand that these are two babies? I'm sure they aren't old enough to enter into a contract. I can see I'm going to have to talk to someone about this. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Then I realize, there is no one to talk to about this. My baby girl is spreading her wings and leaving home. What the hell am I gonna do now? Who am I gonna boss around? I tried bossing Clementine but she just blinks that one eye at me and pees on the floor when I'm not looking. Also, now that we've spoiled her since she lost her eye she has turned into quite a demanding little bitch.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I usually give her a treat after her last potty break at night, well now she thinks she deserves a treat every time she pottys outside and if I don't give her one, she just pees on the floor next time. And dinner time? I give her wet food for dinner and now if I don't feed her by 6 o'clock she sits at my feet, gives my that one eyed glare and growls at me. Most of the time she just ignores me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Come to think of it, that's a lot like raising a teenager. Maybe it won't be that different after all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3971931067916723206-1381702189318778526?l=www.thebubblebathqueen.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.thebubblebathqueen.com/2012/01/shes-really-leaving-me-guess-im-not.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Carol)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-t1zu4kJG8Jg/TwuoMHZe36I/AAAAAAAAEVQ/KJ_OQTRlTYk/s72-c/IMG_1182.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>5</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971931067916723206.post-8737403332782064479</guid><pubDate>Sun, 08 Jan 2012 21:57:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-01-08T14:57:26.446-07:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">cleaning</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">facebook</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">sushi</category><title>Another use for a pumice stone, and other things we shouldn't talk about</title><description>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KgrfFgWkUYM/TwoQ9hPZE0I/AAAAAAAAEVI/Gl3GhbsUInY/s1600/1a1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" rea="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KgrfFgWkUYM/TwoQ9hPZE0I/AAAAAAAAEVI/Gl3GhbsUInY/s320/1a1.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Happy Sunday to you all, as you can see I'm being fabulous about my NewYears resolution to blog everyday, the other ones, well, not so fabulous. Yesterday I spent all my money and I've smoked a couple cigarettes this weekend. But tomorrow is a new day. Let's see what happens.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So today when I woke up my brain said, "Clean this pigsty NOW!" I hate when my brain says that because that means I'm going to be spending hours doing things that you don't talk about in polite company, like scrubbing the toilet bowl ring with a pumice stone. I know, I know, I'll never mention it again.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The house is mostly clean as I write this, just the kitchen left to do and I hate cleaning kitchens. I'd rather scrub the toilet than clean the kitchen or vacuum. I'm weird like that. That's probably why my vacuum cleaners last so long.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Hailey and Alex went out to lunch. Fun Sunday for them after spending the day yesterday gutting their rooms. Just to let you know how bad those rooms were, they will be spending next Saturday doing the same thing.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I'm taking a break and checking my Facebook, it's important that I know what is going on in everyone's lives, who is watching TV, whose kids are sick, who is already drinking beer today. I don't need to actually talk to people anymore, I just read their updates. Anyway, while I'm reading updates Hailey posts the following,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; "Okay, today is awesome, four kinds of sushi for like $20"&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This from the kid who won't eat applesauce because it feels weird in her mouth. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Back to cleaning, but if I knew how much Hailey loved raw fish I would have gotten rid of the stove long ago.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3971931067916723206-8737403332782064479?l=www.thebubblebathqueen.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.thebubblebathqueen.com/2012/01/another-use-for-pumice-stone-and-other.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Carol)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KgrfFgWkUYM/TwoQ9hPZE0I/AAAAAAAAEVI/Gl3GhbsUInY/s72-c/1a1.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971931067916723206.post-3131094856887253738</guid><pubDate>Sun, 08 Jan 2012 03:55:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-01-07T20:55:59.297-07:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">thrift stores</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">crafts</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">shopping</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">moving out</category><title>When all else fails, shop</title><description>So my check is still not in the bank. What to do, what to do? Why shop of course! I spent a lovely day wandering from&amp;nbsp;store to&amp;nbsp;store. I started at the local thrift store because I had some things to donate and since I was there, what's the harm in taking a peek?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I found two lovely things, a mirror for my bedroom, when I finish remodeling it of course. I have a beautiful canopy wrought iron bed so I will paint this either black or white.&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/-viOpde5-Y1M/TwkSq8t_zZI/AAAAAAAAEUw/mzHzYevd3xM/s1600/IMG_1175.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" rea="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-viOpde5-Y1M/TwkSq8t_zZI/AAAAAAAAEUw/mzHzYevd3xM/s320/IMG_1175.JPG" width="186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
I also found a unique picture frame for Hailey's new apartment. The apartment I still have not accepted.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-35vuCqzk7v0/TwkS7ft3aiI/AAAAAAAAEU4/gJSDspdRSrc/s1600/IMG_1176.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" rea="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-35vuCqzk7v0/TwkS7ft3aiI/AAAAAAAAEU4/gJSDspdRSrc/s320/IMG_1176.JPG" width="239" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Then I hit the craft stores. Craft stores are like crack for me. Now I've never personally done crack but I imagine that feeling I get when I walk in there has got to be close. The possibilities! I spent five hours at craft stores today. It was Heaven.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I bought tulle for Ivy and material for infinity scarves and stuff to make one of those fancy little bulletin boards, and a project for Hailey's new place and more fabric- I may have an addiction-and paper dolls, and ribbon and beads, oh my!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But my absolute favorite thing I bought today is a nutcracker. I know Christmas is over but I collect nutcrackers and this little lovely was just waiting for me. A crafting nutcracker, isn't she beautiful!! I have nutcrackers that represent other people in my life, a fireman, Elvis, but this is the first one that represents me. I think I will put her on my dresser for a while.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--UDt24cPlwc/TwkTEsHuzhI/AAAAAAAAEVA/IEqhLCKTy3s/s1600/IMG_1177.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" rea="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--UDt24cPlwc/TwkTEsHuzhI/AAAAAAAAEVA/IEqhLCKTy3s/s320/IMG_1177.JPG" width="114" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
I came home to hell. If you've ever met my daughter you know that she and cleaning are not really acquainted. This is the weekend she and her boyfriend decided to clean out their rooms for the move. Hailey has saved every piece of paper she's ever written on since kindergarten. Not because she is sentimental but because she is too lazy to throw them out. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So I came home to boxes and overflowing trash piles everywhere. She also mentioned something about doing laundry but I'll believe that when I see it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
She has a few boxes of things to donate, that means another trip to the thrift store. I hope my check goes in the bank soon so I can see what other goodies I can find.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3971931067916723206-3131094856887253738?l=www.thebubblebathqueen.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.thebubblebathqueen.com/2012/01/when-all-else-fails-shop.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Carol)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-viOpde5-Y1M/TwkSq8t_zZI/AAAAAAAAEUw/mzHzYevd3xM/s72-c/IMG_1175.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971931067916723206.post-3352629823391377878</guid><pubDate>Sat, 07 Jan 2012 05:34:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-01-06T22:34:36.975-07:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">french fries</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">liquor store</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">paycheck</category><title>Where's ma money?</title><description>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3GCIHa5cs9k/TwfZD3c8ckI/AAAAAAAAEUo/zbqMolV02r0/s1600/paycheck.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" rea="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3GCIHa5cs9k/TwfZD3c8ckI/AAAAAAAAEUo/zbqMolV02r0/s320/paycheck.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
So today was payday at that place I work. I have direct deposit so usually I give my paycheck no thought at all. Money goes in, money comes out, all without me having to lift a finger. My bills are set up to&amp;nbsp; auto pay on payday, otherwise I'd forget and then that's when I become homeless. It's better not to rely on me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Well, there was some glitch in our payroll system so the banks didn't get the direct deposit info so, no check. Ok, I still wasn't too worried, I mean, eventually they have to pay me, right?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I checked my account, $1.32, hmmm, this could be a problem. See I'm one of those people who will not keep all their money in one bank. And by "all" my money I mean the&amp;nbsp;minuscule amount&amp;nbsp;in savings at another bank&amp;nbsp;and the $20 in my underwear drawer. So I couldn't just transfer money to cover my ass.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Our HR department sends out an email that says this has been fixed and checks will be deposited throughout the day....or Monday. Not to worry!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Now my account is a negative because more bills went through and I have stuff bouncing all over the valley. Fortunately I have overdraft protection so now I just owe the bank my entire paycheck in overdraft fees. No problem.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
However, the liquor store will not take an IOU so now we have a problem. I may go postal except I don't work for the post office so I'm not sure exactly how that would work.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Send wine, and maybe french fries.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3971931067916723206-3352629823391377878?l=www.thebubblebathqueen.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.thebubblebathqueen.com/2012/01/wheres-ma-money.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Carol)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3GCIHa5cs9k/TwfZD3c8ckI/AAAAAAAAEUo/zbqMolV02r0/s72-c/paycheck.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971931067916723206.post-2035687737927444992</guid><pubDate>Fri, 06 Jan 2012 04:57:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-01-05T21:57:46.753-07:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">oreos</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">resolutions</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">whining</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">stop smoking</category><title>Resolutions are hard.............</title><description>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_P8PzKloW8E/TwZ_BqNwjXI/AAAAAAAAEUg/3nc2TVc-q18/s1600/EcigbrandStarterKitjmn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="319" rea="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_P8PzKloW8E/TwZ_BqNwjXI/AAAAAAAAEUg/3nc2TVc-q18/s320/EcigbrandStarterKitjmn.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Right now I'm whining. For four whole days I've been super fantastic about my resolutions, I've been the queen of resolutions, I've been kicking my resolutions ass! For four whole days. Where's my cookie? I want a gold star, dammit, I want some recognition.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So yeah, I've quit smoking, what do you mean you can tell? I've quit in the past so I know the drill. First I'm so hyper it's like I'm all jacked up on Mountain Dew, then I crash, then I'm hyper, then I crash, on and on it goes until I start smoking again- which I'm not doing this time, or Hailey has me committed.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Today I crashed. I came home, sat at the computer to read blogs and write but instead I ate almost an entire package of Oreos and took a three and a half hour nap.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So here's the damn blog I resolutioned (is that even a word?) to write everyday. I'm finishing off the Oreos and going back to bed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3971931067916723206-2035687737927444992?l=www.thebubblebathqueen.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.thebubblebathqueen.com/2012/01/resolutions-are-hard.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Carol)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_P8PzKloW8E/TwZ_BqNwjXI/AAAAAAAAEUg/3nc2TVc-q18/s72-c/EcigbrandStarterKitjmn.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>5</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971931067916723206.post-4579656122067968838</guid><pubDate>Thu, 05 Jan 2012 02:47:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-01-04T19:47:18.900-07:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">skinny jeans</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">training</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">camel toe</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">hooker heels</category><title>People watching at work</title><description>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yMznfCTSTkY/TwUOhSr2XHI/AAAAAAAAEUU/4O6eFUat7Gw/s1600/muffin-top.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" rea="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yMznfCTSTkY/TwUOhSr2XHI/AAAAAAAAEUU/4O6eFUat7Gw/s1600/muffin-top.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
So apparently I have some time on my hands. I transferred to a new position at my company and am in training, once again. I don't train well, I have a very short attention span and I already know everything so get on with it already.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Anyway, while the lovely people on my new team are trying to pound basic points into my head I'm people watching. I love people watching and all this training is giving me some extra time to indulge in this guilty pleasure.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Today I noticed that friends in the workplace will dress alike. That's very cute if you are the bobsy twins, or even Barbie and her slutty friend, you know the one, she was all over Ken when Barbie wasn't looking..... Focus, focus. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So,&amp;nbsp;I noticed that not only do friend dress alike but that they also wear the same clothes! Not the exact same clothes&amp;nbsp;of course but if one of them wears low riding skinny jeans, so does the other. If one has a body hugging turtleneck on, so does the other one.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
When I see this I want to impose a new work dress code rule because this is causing me physical pain. If you insist on wearing the same size&amp;nbsp;1 clothes as your co worker then you too should be a single digit size, just saying. I'm sure camel toe and muffin top are not the looks you're are going for.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Also, those 6 inch stripper heels, they are dead sexy on the girls in the office who can walk in them, but then there's the friend, in her too tight skinny jeans taking mincing baby steps in shoes she can't walk in. Guess what? Not freaking sexy! This is actually a little painful to watch.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
A true friend will tell you these things but since we are just office acquaintances&amp;nbsp;I will leave that up to your real friends.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3971931067916723206-4579656122067968838?l=www.thebubblebathqueen.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.thebubblebathqueen.com/2012/01/people-watching-at-work.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Carol)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yMznfCTSTkY/TwUOhSr2XHI/AAAAAAAAEUU/4O6eFUat7Gw/s72-c/muffin-top.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>8</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971931067916723206.post-1090450235050536950</guid><pubDate>Wed, 04 Jan 2012 02:23:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-01-03T19:23:32.206-07:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">teenagers</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">moving out</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">home alone</category><title>A place of her own</title><description>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3Nwb8KSKn1c/TwO35nCq8ZI/AAAAAAAAEUI/Ja4sWg9-e9Y/s1600/IMG_1163.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="213" rea="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3Nwb8KSKn1c/TwO35nCq8ZI/AAAAAAAAEUI/Ja4sWg9-e9Y/s320/IMG_1163.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
So Hailey is getting a place of her own. The child I thought I would&lt;a href="http://www.thebubblebathqueen.com/2010/08/along-came-mo.html"&gt; never have&lt;/a&gt;. The child I went through &lt;a href="http://www.thebubblebathqueen.com/2009/09/overshare-verb-to-divulge-excessive.html"&gt;hell to conceive&lt;/a&gt; and then spend &lt;a href="http://www.thebubblebathqueen.com/2010/09/birth-heard-round-hospital.html"&gt;45 long minutes in labor&lt;/a&gt; with, is leaving me. I know, I know, I can't believe it either, I mean seriously, I'm the best mom in the world.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I understand that she feels the need to spread her wings and fly, she wants to make it out in this big, cold world on her own. There is plenty of time for that when she is 40. But will she listen? Of course not.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I remember being 18, back when I knew everything, I could not wait to leave home. Three weeks later I wanted to come home. Fortunately for her, my mother was smart enough to move and not tell me where she was until I was finally able to figure out how to pay my bills on my own.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I've told Hailey she should enjoy this time. This is the last time in her life that she will have hot water, electricity, clean clothes and food in her stomach paid for by someone else. From here on out it will be pork and beans and the layered look.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
There is a part of me that is excited for her, and for me. I keep thinking I can actually clean the house and this time next year, it will still be clean. I may never have to pick up wet towels off the floor again. My dishes will not sit in her bedroom until they look like a science experiment.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
When Hailey was born I knew this day would come, I just had no idea it would come before I was dead. When she was younger I had her pretty convinced that she could never leave me because she would have to take me grocery shopping when&amp;nbsp;I got old. Now she knows about meals on wheels and I'm on my own.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I guess maybe it's time for me to grow up, since my kid seems hell bent on it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3971931067916723206-1090450235050536950?l=www.thebubblebathqueen.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.thebubblebathqueen.com/2012/01/place-of-her-own.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Carol)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3Nwb8KSKn1c/TwO35nCq8ZI/AAAAAAAAEUI/Ja4sWg9-e9Y/s72-c/IMG_1163.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>4</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971931067916723206.post-6819890459508615567</guid><pubDate>Tue, 03 Jan 2012 02:31:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-01-02T19:31:14.295-07:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">star wars</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">shaving my legs. falling in love</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">smoking</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">ADD</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Mayan</category><title>No, I'm not in love yet</title><description>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GKYsQ53ATMw/TwJoBXihDZI/AAAAAAAAET8/x12-hKqXFSk/s1600/hair-curled.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" rea="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GKYsQ53ATMw/TwJoBXihDZI/AAAAAAAAET8/x12-hKqXFSk/s1600/hair-curled.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Here it is, day two of the year I'm going to fall in love and all I can say is I don't think I can handle the stress. Today I went out for a while but I purposely didn't wash my hair&amp;nbsp;or put on makeup and I wore my baggiest sweats to the dollar store, I wasn't taking any chances. I'm pretty sure falling in love means I'll have to shave my legs and I'm just not ready for that level of commitment. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Hailey and I have a New Year's Day tradition, we go out to dinner. Ok, it's not really a tradition, we just started last year and this year I totally forgot so we went to Chili's because I was at Walmart- once again makeup less and in sweats, you never know when men&amp;nbsp;will start throwing themselves at you all because you said this is the year you are going to fall in love.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
While we were waiting for our food Hailey asked me if I was worried that the world was going to end this year. For a moment I had a glimmer of hope, I could fall in love and then the world will end and I won't have to shave my legs. Then Hailey said the Mayans thought people were made of corn and their religion was basically the force from Star Wars and all hope flew out the window.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Corn? Seriously? I'm pretty sure Hailey is at least 75% potatoes because that's all I ate when I was pregnant but corn? How am I supposed to take their predictions seriously&amp;nbsp; when everyone knows that Star Wars is made up, not like Harry Potter which is real and if Harry Potter said the world was going to end I would totally believe him. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Anyway, I forgot the point of this post, which is probably the point because when I quit smoking I have enough energy for twelve people and my ADD kicks in and this is what you get.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Hope everyone is enjoying the new year as much as I am. May the force be with you- whatever that means.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3971931067916723206-6819890459508615567?l=www.thebubblebathqueen.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.thebubblebathqueen.com/2012/01/no-im-not-in-love-yet.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Carol)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GKYsQ53ATMw/TwJoBXihDZI/AAAAAAAAET8/x12-hKqXFSk/s72-c/hair-curled.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>6</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971931067916723206.post-8026960384987190375</guid><pubDate>Sun, 01 Jan 2012 20:17:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-01-01T13:17:38.545-07:00</atom:updated><title>Hello 2012, where the hell have you been?</title><description>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-daWyCLFMVko/TwC-ybYyyzI/AAAAAAAAETw/i--DqNIf7oY/s1600/IMG_1154.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="213" rea="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-daWyCLFMVko/TwC-ybYyyzI/AAAAAAAAETw/i--DqNIf7oY/s320/IMG_1154.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I hope everyone had a safe and happy New Years Eve, I find the older I get the less alcohol it takes to make me ready for bed almost too early to celebrate.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We stayed up and greeted the New Year, even Ivy was up late banging pots and pans and watching the fireworks. One more reason why I rock as her favorite aunt.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Now it's 2012, the year I don't have to be responsible. Woo hoo, I've been waiting for this. Now that Hailey is 18 and she can make her own &lt;strike&gt;mistakes &lt;/strike&gt;decisions without my help, I'm on my own. I can run with scissors without worrying about being a bad influence. This year is gonna kick ass!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So I made some resolutions, set some goals and I'm going to share them with you so that you can all remind me when I'm falling down on the job and I can say "Kiss my grits, I don't have to be responsible this year!"&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
*I will blog every single day. Even if it's just one word, I will blog, there is stuff taking up space in my head so I'm gonna give it to all of you. You can thank me later.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
*I will be healthier. Yes, this means I will exercise and stop smoking. Shut up, I mean it this time.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
*I will finish my novel, tentatively titled Sister Story- cause I'm creative like that. I think it's good, maybe someone else will too.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
That's it, just those three things because otherwise, I'm pretty much perfect. Ok, so there's more but I can't tell you everything.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
One last thing, last night at midnight we went around the table and everyone had to tell the group one wonderful thing that was going to happen to them in 2012. Since I asked the question I had a smart ass answer ready, I was pretty sure I was going to become Trace Adkins next wife but when it was my turn, somehow the following words fell out of my mouth:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;I'm going to fall in love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;What the hell? I really wish my mouth would talk with my brain before it opens up and let's my heart fall out.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3971931067916723206-8026960384987190375?l=www.thebubblebathqueen.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.thebubblebathqueen.com/2012/01/hello-2012-where-hell-have-you-been.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Carol)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-daWyCLFMVko/TwC-ybYyyzI/AAAAAAAAETw/i--DqNIf7oY/s72-c/IMG_1154.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>4</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971931067916723206.post-2213222170677294599</guid><pubDate>Sat, 31 Dec 2011 23:36:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-12-31T16:36:15.772-07:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">alcohol</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">laughter</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">new years eve</category><title>Let's get drunk and be somebody!!!</title><description>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FA66Yt8mkrU/Tv-bwm0DXlI/AAAAAAAAETk/sVBUW7dz6BY/s1600/new+years+eve.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" rea="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FA66Yt8mkrU/Tv-bwm0DXlI/AAAAAAAAETk/sVBUW7dz6BY/s1600/new+years+eve.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Toby Keith certainly knows how to name songs. Anyway, it's New Years Eve and we are getting ready to get our drink on.&amp;nbsp;I&amp;nbsp;may&amp;nbsp;need a twelve step program after tonight because I have enough alcohol to pickle my liver.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I'm making chili and cornbread, cake pops and jello shots. We'll play games and once we are all tipsy enough, we'll play sing star. That noise that sounds like a cat being tortured? That's me, singing R-E-S-P-E-C-T with my sister while the kids&amp;nbsp;howl with laughter. I always lose that game but everyone gives me an A for enthusiasm so what the hell.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
2012 is going to be an amazing year.&amp;nbsp;Even with the bumps we ran into, 2011 was a good year for Hailey and I and I expect 2012 to be even better.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;I've made a list of resolutions, some of them I'll share with you tomorrow as soon as I can see out of both eyes, but for today I want to say thank you.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Thank you&amp;nbsp;for reading what I write, when I started this I thought the only person who would read it would be my mom. Thanks for commenting, comments make me happy. Thank you for sharing your lives with me through your blogs and your comments. Thank you for offering support through the storms and most of all, thank you for making me laugh when I had my sad pants on.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I would like to give you all a money tree but since mine died without reproducing I'm afraid that all I have for you are wishes.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I wish you a&amp;nbsp;year of love, surrounded by people you love.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I wish you laughter every day, a good&amp;nbsp;belly laugh is one of the best things in the world.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I wish you peace, from your demons and those that belong to others.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I wish health for you and those you love, as a matter of fact I'm going to drink to your health over and over and over tonight so you should be covered.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mostly I wish that you all live in your happy place, that little place in your heart that says all is right in the world.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Be safe, have fun, don't do anything stupid, but if you do, for God's sake, blog about it so I can laugh my ass off!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3971931067916723206-2213222170677294599?l=www.thebubblebathqueen.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.thebubblebathqueen.com/2011/12/lets-get-drunk-and-be-somebody.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Carol)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FA66Yt8mkrU/Tv-bwm0DXlI/AAAAAAAAETk/sVBUW7dz6BY/s72-c/new+years+eve.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>4</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971931067916723206.post-8492085998866638747</guid><pubDate>Wed, 21 Dec 2011 00:32:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-12-20T17:32:47.692-07:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Walmart people</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">pregancy</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">humor</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">balloons</category><title>People of Walmart</title><description>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YXTN7ZtTGP4/TvEoitd-gYI/AAAAAAAAETY/eJ1DDHX-ZCA/s1600/IMG_0811.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="213" oda="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YXTN7ZtTGP4/TvEoitd-gYI/AAAAAAAAETY/eJ1DDHX-ZCA/s320/IMG_0811.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Everyone knows about the &lt;a href="http://www.peopleofwalmart.com/"&gt;People of Walmart&lt;/a&gt; site, if you don't, go there now, you will find pictures to laugh at, maybe even some of your relatives are featured on there. The other day my darling daughter earned her People of Walmart badge, not through a picture but through a story that will be heard around Walmart for quite a while.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My kid has a wicked sense of humor and she's a little twisted. One day last week she called me after work and said she was at her boyfriends house, then they were going to Walmart to get "feminine hygiene products" and then they would be home to eat all the cake pops I made for her grandfather. Just a normal night.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
When Hailey came in she was laughing so I asked her what was so funny, this is her story.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Her supervisor decided to hang balloons on everyones cubicle. Hailey loves balloons and wouldn't let hers go, she even took it when she left for the day. As she was walking to the parking lot one of the guys asked her if she was going to pop it. Hailey said no, and promptly shoved it under her shirt. Everyone was busting a gut because she looked about eight months pregnant.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Never one to let a good joke die she left this balloon under her shirt and drove to her boyfriends house. She walked in their house, with the balloon still under her shirt, causing his parents to snort perfectly good wine out of their noses.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Hailey's boyfriend walked in, since they've known each other for four years he wasn't surprised, just gave her a kiss and asked how her day was. They went to Walmart, Hailey still sporting a balloon baby. At Walmart Hailey climbed into the back of the cart so Alex could push her because even at 18 she still thinks her legs are painted on.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
They get tampons and across the aisle are the pregnancy tests. My darling daughter grabs one to go with her tampons. At the checkout she hands the tampons and the pregnancy test to the cashier and Alex pushes her forward so the clerk can see her.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Hailey said the look on her face was priceless. She was probably thinking, seriously? You're still not sure?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So if you hear a story about a hugely pregnant girl buying tampons and a pregnancy test at Walmart, that was my daughter. She gave birth in the car after leaving Walmart and was feeling well enough to eat all the cake pops I didn't have time to hide.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3971931067916723206-8492085998866638747?l=www.thebubblebathqueen.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.thebubblebathqueen.com/2011/12/people-of-walmart.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Carol)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YXTN7ZtTGP4/TvEoitd-gYI/AAAAAAAAETY/eJ1DDHX-ZCA/s72-c/IMG_0811.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>5</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971931067916723206.post-2128650846328042152</guid><pubDate>Mon, 19 Dec 2011 01:34:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-12-18T18:34:55.878-07:00</atom:updated><title>I miss my Krissy friend</title><description>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7DXw6x5ptSQ/Tu6TBbLW-5I/AAAAAAAAETI/ugb-3FGXN6I/s1600/krissy1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" oda="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7DXw6x5ptSQ/Tu6TBbLW-5I/AAAAAAAAETI/ugb-3FGXN6I/s320/krissy1.jpg" width="203" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp;Today is the anniversary of the brutal murder of one of my&amp;nbsp;best friends. A year later it makes even less sense. I cannot believe she is gone. I can't believe the way she was taken. I live in Salt Lake for hell's sake, people don't get murdered here, and certainly not people I know.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But Krissy did. A series of bad choices led her to be in the presence of evil and he did not take pity on her. He didn't care that she was someones daughter, sister, mother, lover and friend. He didn't care that she was still loved even as she was lost. He did not care about the two daughters she left behind who now have to go through life knowing what this monster did to their mother. He cared for no one but himself. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
That was evident when he went to trial. He knew they would convict him, he had confessed after all and they had more than enough forensic evidence. He also knew that the brutality of the crime he committed would get him the death penalty.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Faced with his own death he became afraid and took the cowards way out. He plead guilty and saved the state an expensive trail. In return he got life in prison without parole. Funny how these monsters can destroy another human being without a thought, not care that they are causing someones death, but when faced with their own death they become afraid.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So once again, here is my post for my Krissy friend and all that was lost.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I have a friend, or rather, I HAD a friend, about a year and a half ago I asked her to never call me again. I told her I didn’t need her drama in my life. I told her I couldn’t watch her kill herself. Now she is gone, but before we get there, I want to tell you about my friend.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Krissy was beautiful, intelligent, talented and broken. She was unable to see her own worth and acted like I was crazy when I would tell her how fortunate I felt to be her friend. Krissy was just unable to believe that she was lovable or valuable. I don’t know why, I’m not sure she knew why, so she drank. And drank, and drank.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Krissy drank away everything that ever mattered to her, including her children. She lost custody of both of her daughters because she was unable to stay sober. I think a part of her believed she didn’t deserve them. She told me several times they would be better off without her, they didn't need a mother like her. That made me cry and I told her again and again how fortunate they were to have her.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Krissy was funny, so very funny. She and I had so many inside jokes, all it would take was one word or a hand motion and we would both be laughing so hard, standing with our legs crossed trying not to pee our pants. She always knew what would make me laugh and at work I would get random emails from her, strange ads on craigslist, funny dating profiles, news of the weird. Krissy could find a laugh in just about anything.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-G97unWIwW5M/Tu6TL8kglfI/AAAAAAAAETQ/8_5ZS0E-4rg/s1600/krissy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="242" oda="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-G97unWIwW5M/Tu6TL8kglfI/AAAAAAAAETQ/8_5ZS0E-4rg/s320/krissy.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Krissy loved movies and she could quote them all. I am not a movie buff. She would start telling me about some funny scene in a movie and start laughing so hard she could barely talk and I would just look at her, not knowing the movie so unable to see the humor and when she would stop laughing she would say " Dammit Jane, why am I your friend? You know nothing about humor." Then she would laugh again.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
She always called me Jane, as in Jane you ignorant slut, from Saturday Night Live, and she was my Krissy friend. "Anytime I called her she would answer the phone "Bobs House of Bestiality" or some other perverted sex shop name and then laugh like a hyena and say " Jane you ignorant slut, where have you been all my life?"&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Krissy snorted when she laughed, which always made me laugh harder.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Did I mention that she drank? I don’t mean she drank a little, she drank so much that one of the many times I cleaned her apartment after a binge I filled five huge trash cans with empty alcohol containers. I remember thinking that she had consumed more alcohol in a week than most people do in a lifetime. I also wondered how she could live through that kind of drinking, but live she did.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Our friendship had been broken more than once due to her drinking, I couldn't understand it and I couldn't watch it. I tried to be supportive, to be there for her, to help her over the hard spots. She could be a mean drunk and when you tried to help her she would turn on you so when her youngest daughter was about two I said, no more, I won't do this anymore. I didn't see her for three years.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
After all that time a mutual friend asked for my help because no one had seen her in weeks and he was worried, he asked me to climb through her dog door because I was the only one who could fit. I was mad, I didn't want to be pulled back into that mess. I climbed through the dog door and sat in the car while he went in. After about an hour I had to use the bathroom so I snuck in but she heard me, he told her I was in the car. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Krissy called my name, I went to the doorway of her bedroom. I was so disgusted, how do you let yourself get to this place? I didn't want anything to do with her.Tears started rolling down her face and she held out her hand to me. Her beautiful hands. Krissy had the hands of a concert pianist. Long, beautiful, delicate fingers, so soft they were childlike. I held her hand and as weak as she was she tried to pull me to her, I climbed into that disgusting bed she had been laying in for weeks and just held her. Krissy put her hand on my cheek, looked in my eyes and said "Jane, is it really you?"&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Trina and I took her to the hospital that time to detox. She was bad, really bad. The alcohol had affected the motor center of her brain and they didn't think she would walk again. The doctor told me she would probably have to go into a nursing home. My beautiful Krissy, unable to even go to the bathroom on her own.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Somehow she recovered, she got better. I took her home, we cried about it, then, because it was Krissy, we laughed about it. She told me of things that happened in the hospital and the cute little boy nurses that took care of her and we laughed some more. She was determined to get better. I was determined to help her.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Krissy liked to stay busy when she wasn’t drinking, I think it helped her not to drink. She was always finding and restoring some thing that she found at a yard sale or thrift store. Krissy had the ability to take something that most of us would throw away and turn it into something beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Krissy loved animals, she took in every stray, she found homes for animals that no one else wanted. She loved them with the love a mother has for her children and every time she woke up in the hospital I had taken her to, yet again, her first question was about her animals.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In the end, none of these things mattered. That demon on her back was stronger than the love that she had for us or that we had for her, and she fell. I walked away because I couldn't stand it. I could not stand to see her waste her life and all she had to give. I didn't know how to help her in a way that didn't enable her. So I walked away.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Two days ago a homeless woman was found dead in a park bathroom. She was brutally murdered. My beautiful friend Krissy is no more.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The news report said she fought her attacker so they were looking for someone who liked like they had been in a fight. That was my Krissy, a hell cat to the end. Even in death she made me laugh, I knew she would never go down without a fight. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Goodbye my Krissy friend, you were so loved, I'm so sorry it wasn't enough. We will never forget you and never stop mourning what could have been, if only.........&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I will miss you so.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Love,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Jane&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3971931067916723206-2128650846328042152?l=www.thebubblebathqueen.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.thebubblebathqueen.com/2011/12/i-miss-my-krissy-friend.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Carol)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7DXw6x5ptSQ/Tu6TBbLW-5I/AAAAAAAAETI/ugb-3FGXN6I/s72-c/krissy1.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>4</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971931067916723206.post-7057631774639998301</guid><pubDate>Sun, 18 Dec 2011 21:14:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-12-18T14:14:49.422-07:00</atom:updated><title>Online Shopping</title><description>I love online shopping, you find all sorts of things that are not at your neighborhood Walmart. I like to find different gifts, things that someone wouldn't necessarily buy for themselves.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
While I was searching I cam across &lt;a href="http://justaddressplaques.com/"&gt;JustAddressPlaques.com&lt;/a&gt;. Now I want one! They have the coolest personalized address plaques&amp;nbsp;to put your street address out there for everyone to see, they truly have something for everyone's tastes.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My favorite are the address posts, you get a beautiful post plus a custom address plaque. Of course my yard is so small that the post would take up the whole thing. They also have plaques for your mailbox.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Such a great idea for gift giving, one for someone else and one for yourself. They also have solar address plaques, which I love, I'm all about being green.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Check them out and dress up your house. I'm going back to searching unique gifts for people I love, mainly me of course, but I may find something for someone else!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3971931067916723206-7057631774639998301?l=www.thebubblebathqueen.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.thebubblebathqueen.com/2011/12/online-shopping.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Carol)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971931067916723206.post-7662171447614614215</guid><pubDate>Mon, 12 Dec 2011 02:45:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-12-11T19:45:01.373-07:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Martha Stewart</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Betty Crocker</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">baking</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">baby shoes</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">wine</category><title>Just call me Martha-Betty, or maybe Betty-Martha</title><description>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oi_uoTaQj1M/TuU6JZeJ4KI/AAAAAAAAES8/sl2pOrIoqY0/s1600/1950s-housewife.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" mda="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oi_uoTaQj1M/TuU6JZeJ4KI/AAAAAAAAES8/sl2pOrIoqY0/s320/1950s-housewife.jpg" width="196" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
The joy of the weekends before Christmas. That's when I run around like the energizer bunny on crack, so much to do and so little time because I am a major procrastinator.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This weekend I was channelling Betty Crocker and Martha Stewart, even the dog is afraid. First there are goodies to be baked. Cake pops, chocolate chip cookies, oatmeal pomegranate cookies, chewy chocolate drops, cream cheese mints, peanut butter fudge. On and on and on it goes. I have to make extra because I eat a lot and I still want to be able to send some to my parents. And then of course Hailey sneaks large containers of stuff out of the house to feed her teenage friends, that alone can eat up an entire day's worth of baking. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And then there was Martha, I made a scarf and gloves for Ivy, so cute. My brother and my cute sister in law are having their first baby this little angel will be 2000 miles away so since I can't snuggle it every chance I get I want it to be wrapped in goodies that I made.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I found this cute little tutorial at &lt;a href="http://www.purlbee.com/felt-baby-shoes/"&gt;The Purl Bee&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;for making little felt baby shoes. I may have gotten carried away. We don't know what the little one is yet so I just want to make sure my bases are covered. I've started quilts for both sexes as well. I know quite a few preggos right now so I think they will all have plenty of baby shoes.&lt;br /&gt;
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Now, I'm just tired.&amp;nbsp; I'm having box wine, cheddar cheese and yellow mustard, because in addition to channelling Martha and Betty, I'm extremely classy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3971931067916723206-7662171447614614215?l=www.thebubblebathqueen.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.thebubblebathqueen.com/2011/12/just-call-me-martha-betty-or-maybe.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Carol)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oi_uoTaQj1M/TuU6JZeJ4KI/AAAAAAAAES8/sl2pOrIoqY0/s72-c/1950s-housewife.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total></item></channel></rss>

