<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8022767426736722907</id><updated>2012-02-02T12:13:19.853-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Growing Pains</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>happiestgirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15661230947045276268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/TGOItNqCjpI/AAAAAAAAAGE/rx4DZqvtV5I/S220/SMALL2200.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>26</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8022767426736722907.post-3215656488905967824</id><published>2012-02-02T11:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-02-02T12:13:19.865-08:00</updated><title type='text'>See that wagon? It's empty.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-940Jpl4TpmM/TyruT5jelFI/AAAAAAAAAHo/HvwTqP4cnfQ/s1600/Falling-Off-Wagon.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 250px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-940Jpl4TpmM/TyruT5jelFI/AAAAAAAAAHo/HvwTqP4cnfQ/s320/Falling-Off-Wagon.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704633903652705362" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SO. I am on day 4 of my juice fast and I fell off the wagon. haha. I decided I was strong enough today to make TJ's work lunch...and it ended in me being taken down by a turkey sandwich.  Here's the thing though...I don't feel bad, or even feel like I failed. I decided yesterday that for now, a juice fast is not for me. Not because it's too hard, mind you, but because it quickly changed mentally from me doing it for health reasons, to being more focused on the weight that was dropping off so quickly.  I've been down that road before. MANY times. I spent the whole last year changing the way I think about food, and focusing on the other effects it has on my body, not just weight. And in 3 days of doing the juice fast, my brain was headed right back to all those unhealthy places. The excitement of losing weight so fast, the worry of it coming back just as quickly, wondering how much I'd lose if I walked a few miles on the treadmill too.  As exciting as it is to lose 9lbs in 3 days (probably mostly water weight anyways)...it is not what I want for myself anymore.  I am so excited to have started juicing, and I can't wait to incorporate it into eating clean!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8022767426736722907-3215656488905967824?l=gracelantz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/feeds/3215656488905967824/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8022767426736722907&amp;postID=3215656488905967824' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/3215656488905967824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/3215656488905967824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/2012/02/see-that-wagon-its-empty.html' title='See that wagon? It&apos;s empty.'/><author><name>happiestgirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15661230947045276268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/TGOItNqCjpI/AAAAAAAAAGE/rx4DZqvtV5I/S220/SMALL2200.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-940Jpl4TpmM/TyruT5jelFI/AAAAAAAAAHo/HvwTqP4cnfQ/s72-c/Falling-Off-Wagon.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8022767426736722907.post-5479604675374109271</id><published>2011-04-05T14:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-06T08:55:22.962-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What a day.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KSY1WYBEhTg/TZuUjozlfEI/AAAAAAAAAHc/WNRSEWEdPDM/s1600/spiders-web.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592226702280719426" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KSY1WYBEhTg/TZuUjozlfEI/AAAAAAAAAHc/WNRSEWEdPDM/s320/spiders-web.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today I need to blog just to get the last 20 some-odd hours out of my head and into the head of others. Last night I had a mini breakdown. I was experienceing one of those "I'm too mentally exhausted to eat healthy or do anything else that I know is good for me that takes any sort of effort." In response to my moms encouraging words, I dragged my pitiful self into bed and grabbed the book she sent me, "Trusting God. Even when life hurts". I started reading it and instantly started feeling like less of the world was on my shoulders. I went to bed thinking that maybe I would be ok if I just got some good sleep.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then the craziness started. TJ came home and decided to start some pork in the crock pot overnight. He wanted to check on it during the night a few times, so he set some alarms on his phone. I woke up to cody doing cody things... like waltzing around, hitting the blinds to go out, and trying to get comfy on the bed. I can't remember which was first, because he did all those things several times in the course of the night. As soon as I started to fall back asleep, TJ's alarm went off. He turned it off quickly because he was already up but it still buzzed longer than I would have liked. A minute later I was drifting back into sleep when TJ's fork hit the side of the crockpot, sending all 3 dogs into a frenzy, jumping up and off the bed pulling off my blanket and waking me with a start. I finally fell back asleep but awoke not much later to the smell of urine. OH NO.. did one of the dogs pee on my pillow? I smelled my pillow, my blanket, all before realizing the pee smell was the pork. Apparently, cooking pork with vinegar and various other spices is not a very appetizing aroma. I woke up on and off for the rest of the night to the smell of urine and to either Cody moving around, or all three dogs simultaneously jumping up and running to the kitchen hoping to score some pee pork.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Finally things settled down....and the next thing I know my alarm is going off to get up for work. "Crap!" Snooze. 5 minutes later... "Crap! Why is it so dark out?" Dismiss. 15 minutes later I woke up on my own, realizing I fell back asleep and could have been majorly late for work. I now had no time to shower. I brushed my teeth, put on deoderant, grabbed a home-made meal bar from the freezer and stood in front of the Keurig trying to will it to go faster. (I'm so spoiled... "go faster Keurig!") I grabbed my travel mug as soon as it was done brewing, put on the lid and went out the door. When I got to the end of my driveway I saw the neighbors dogs walking down the road, as if they chased his car as he left for work. Hmm... Brian doesn't usually leave for work the same time I do... he must have been running late today. Need.Caffeine. I take a big gulp of coffee before realizing it was boiling hot and burning everything from my teeth to my tonsils. ( full disclosure... I had my tonsils out in 4th grade, but if I had them they would have been boiled to death today anyways). I turned on some music and just tried to relax to some Depeche Mode.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;A few minutes later, I drove by a school. I thought "why are the lights not flashing? am I running late? Then I noticed there weren't many cars in the lot and I thought "maybe it's an in-service day or they are having their spring break later than most other people" I drive on.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm almost to kellys house and that's when the last clue finally breaks through my cluelessness. I see a schoolbus on the street, and bryce running down the driveway to get on. I'M AN HOUR EARLY. That's why it was dark when I got up, why the neighbor dogs were in the street, and why the school zone lights weren't flashing. How could I be so dumb? After an already horrible night, I cheated myself out of a full hour of sleep. Luckily, I work for great, flexible people. I called her as I pull into the driveway and she laughed and told me to come on in. I took a big breath and sighed as I turned off the car. I started to walk toward the back door and thought 'what a crazy day already', and then I walked my tired face right into a spiderweb.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;UPDATE: I should have known the day was not over. I had a good evening with a couple of friends discussing all things crafts. Afterwards I got chicken fried rice from my favorite japanese place and headed home. I was in the middle of eating it when I remembered I left the dogs out and they probably wanted in. As soon as I was settled back into my seat and with chopsticks lifted I smelled something RANK. I couldn't put my finger on it but it smelled like a barn. A barn... hmm... and that is when I remembered I let my neighbor put his horse in our yard to eat our grass. That is also when I remembered my dogs love of eating and rolling around in poo (and dead things, like birds). Upon closer optical and smellical observation I saw horse poop smeared and dried in Stewards fur, and olive smelled like what I would imagine a dung beetle would. Anyways... two emergency baths and a tub scrub down later, and I was back on the couch calling TJ and telling him to tell our neighbor, "Sorry, but you can't put your horse in our fence anymore. Our dogs are to horse poop, as Scrooge McDuck is to piles of money."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;UPDATE UPDATE: As I was writing the previous update, tj came to me with his pork/apple chutney creation to try. I tried a bite and it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. Good Job TJ! I might actually have a sandwich! I headed over to FB and started posting that I editted my blog and at that exact moment I heard a sound that strikes dread into my heart. Gagging, vomitting dog. I look over and Cody is by the back door throwing up, but his head is obscured by the couch. I yelled to TJ to take Cody outside. He ran over and said "what IS that? Oh my gosh it's horse po.. RETCH. RETCH RETCH RETCH..." This is when he ran to the bathroom. I started hysterically laughing while running to get plastic bags and paper towels. While getting the paper towels it finally hit me and now we were both gagging violently. TJ eventually went outside to look in the yard for more horse stuff, and I cleaned up the horse manure vomit. I haven't even had my coffee yet. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8022767426736722907-5479604675374109271?l=gracelantz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/feeds/5479604675374109271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8022767426736722907&amp;postID=5479604675374109271' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/5479604675374109271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/5479604675374109271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/2011/04/today-i-need-to-blog-just-to-get-last.html' title='What a day.'/><author><name>happiestgirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15661230947045276268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/TGOItNqCjpI/AAAAAAAAAGE/rx4DZqvtV5I/S220/SMALL2200.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KSY1WYBEhTg/TZuUjozlfEI/AAAAAAAAAHc/WNRSEWEdPDM/s72-c/spiders-web.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8022767426736722907.post-4519697151276183494</id><published>2010-08-11T21:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-11T22:29:22.983-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bugs are People Too</title><content type='html'>I haven't written on here in quite a while, and even then, it was super lame.  I freely admit, I'm not a writer.  I have terrible sentance structure,  grammar, spelling, punctuation, and pretty much anything else that could be terrible, is terrible. I've decided I just don't care. I'll never get better if I don't practice.  So here goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Growing up, I always cringed when I killed bugs.  Most people do, I suppose, but not for the reason I did.   If I saw an ant crawling on the counter, I would have an internal struggle.  Do I let it strut around like it owned the place? Crawling on surfaces where my &lt;em&gt;food&lt;/em&gt; is? Or do I kill it and risk ant vengance by loved ones?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I blame cartoons where bugs are given personalities and feelings. If someone killed &lt;em&gt;my&lt;/em&gt; brother I would seek revenge and blood.  I also blame words like, swarm, and army, which give the allusion of organization.  If they can organize, they can fight and kill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't want any blood on my hands. I didn't want to be traced back to the death and be held accountable.  I would try to explain  to friends why I didn't want to kill the bug on my backpack, but would realize how ridiculous the words sounded as they came out of my mouth.  By the end of my explanation I would already be trying to find a way to prove I wasn't insane, and it usually came down to me laughing, saying "just kidding hah" and squishing the bug...muttering a low apology and request for mercy.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Realizing no one would ever quite understand my fear I stopped explaining it, and asked others to do the deed for me.   When I was alone, I would bargain. " If you don't hurt me I won't hurt you and you can go on living your little life, but here are the rules. 1. Stay in your corner, or I will assume you are running towards me to hurt me, and that breaks the contract and it will be your own fault.  2. If you &lt;em&gt;do&lt;/em&gt; break the contract, your friends and family have no claim on my blood."   This usually worked out pretty well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The south is pretty much a nightmare for me on a daily basis.   I see hundreds if not thousands of bugs daily and I know, I just &lt;em&gt;know&lt;/em&gt; that they are all connected and watching each others backs.   We have ants up north, but these ones BITE.  We have spiders up north, but these ones are POISONOUS.   You can imagine how this could complicate an already stressful situation. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I kill ants/spiders/moths, etc on an almost daily basis and none have never been avenged, but that truth does not placate my fear.  Irrational as it may be.  I didn't write this all for nothing, I wrote it because if I'm ever found dead of an unknown cause, please don't forget to investigate the ants.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8022767426736722907-4519697151276183494?l=gracelantz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/feeds/4519697151276183494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8022767426736722907&amp;postID=4519697151276183494' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/4519697151276183494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/4519697151276183494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/2010/08/bugs-are-people-too.html' title='Bugs are People Too'/><author><name>happiestgirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15661230947045276268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/TGOItNqCjpI/AAAAAAAAAGE/rx4DZqvtV5I/S220/SMALL2200.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8022767426736722907.post-6255103232282056087</id><published>2010-02-24T20:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-24T21:29:50.816-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Not the best night.....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/S4YKx8YoSaI/AAAAAAAAAF8/auf5imLwG1Q/s1600-h/howtosurvivestomachflu-main_Full.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442049052863121826" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/S4YKx8YoSaI/AAAAAAAAAF8/auf5imLwG1Q/s320/howtosurvivestomachflu-main_Full.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So last night I woke up feeling all barfy. I opened the bathroom door so I would have a clear shot to the toilet because I was quite sure it would come to that. To my surprise, later (quite a while later) I feel asleep with my innards still intact. I woke up and spent the day with a stomach ache,and super tired for that matter, but thought that maybe I had just handled the beef improperly that I made for lunch. Well, on my way home from church tonight I started feeling a little sicky to my stomach. I came in and took some tums... and that was rough, because I absolutely hate chewing that crap... and started doing the dishes. A few minutes into it my stomach started swelling and feeling sicker and sicker. I didn't end up finishing the dishes because it got so bad I decided I needed to get into my PJ's and lay down. I put my hair in a pony tail (thank heavens) and got out my pj's. All of a sudden I started salivating a ton and had a weird taste in my mouth. I got to the toilet just in time! not fun. I really hate throwing up. So anways, that was about an hour ago. My stomach felt a little better, but in the last 30 minutes i've been getting barfier and barfier. So now I sit, with a pot and a roll of paper towels (incase of one of those -I won't make it to the bathroom- moments) waiting for tj to get home. The very worst part of all of this is, I have a cleaning job tomorrow. I just started last week and I already have to cancel, at the last minute too since it's too late to call tonight. The family just got over the stomach flu last week so I would feel terrible if i came over and spread it all over their house and they got it again. UHG that sure makes me look like a great reliable worker right? I hate when I can't win&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8022767426736722907-6255103232282056087?l=gracelantz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/feeds/6255103232282056087/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8022767426736722907&amp;postID=6255103232282056087' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/6255103232282056087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/6255103232282056087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/2010/02/not-best-night.html' title='Not the best night.....'/><author><name>happiestgirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15661230947045276268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/TGOItNqCjpI/AAAAAAAAAGE/rx4DZqvtV5I/S220/SMALL2200.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/S4YKx8YoSaI/AAAAAAAAAF8/auf5imLwG1Q/s72-c/howtosurvivestomachflu-main_Full.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8022767426736722907.post-8808850675145461437</id><published>2010-02-05T18:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T18:42:54.072-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Surgery!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/S2zXJkv3IQI/AAAAAAAAAF0/uaA3dSK_30M/s1600-h/thumbs_up.png"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 291px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434955409812562178" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/S2zXJkv3IQI/AAAAAAAAAF0/uaA3dSK_30M/s320/thumbs_up.png" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It is over! I had so many fears and doubts and those are all gone and I couldn't be happier, and all thanks to God &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Like I said in my previous post, endometriosis can only be diagnosed through surgery. It can't be seen by ultrasound or CT scan or anything of that nature. My obgyn and fertility dr all were pretty stinkin certain I had endometriosis because I had pretty much every major symptom. I say this because after my surgery, my Dr. said I DON'T HAVE ENDOMETRIOSIS!!!!!!! Let me start from the beginning.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I got to the surgery center at 6:30 and got bloodwork. I then got prepped for surgery, which included slippers (i'm still wearing and loving them) a cap for my hair, and a gown. They got my IV hooked up and got my mom and tj back there waiting with me. They told me I was going to have a tube in my throat once I fell asleep and that the surgery should take an hour to an hour and a half. I was so scared not knowing what i'd hear when i woke up. i had a test called an HSG done a couple months ago and it looked like one of my tubes was blocked and the other one might be damaged. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I woke up suuuper groggy and nauseaus.... my dr walked by with a big smile on her face and said "you're a perfect woman, we found no endometriosis and were able to fix the tube that was coiled up and kinked" She was so surprised to not find anything there and so was I!! She said that my pain is probably caused by some nerves that are getting inflamed every month and making the pain so bad. All I could say was "God is soo awesome!" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I woke up around 11 oclock and my recovery was only supposed to be 1hr... but I didn't get to leave till almost 4pm. I layed in bed at first, drifting in and out of sleep. Every few minutes my moniter would start alarming and a nurse would say "Grace, wake up and take some deep breaths.... you're breathing too shallow and not getting enough oxygen" It was so annoying. the second i stopped taking deep breaths it would just drop drop drop and then beep and i'd have to start all over again. After a little while they took my to a recliner where my husband and mom got to sit with me. That was before noon. I again drifted... in and out.... and the nurse would come in with a wheelchair and carry my IV bag and take me to the bathroom where I would sit. I didn't feel like I had to go, but they said I had to go before I could go home. I would sit there, start to fall asleep, and finally just pull the cord to get the nurse back in. I did this 4 times. I drank gingerale, had 3 big bags of fluids, and even drank some coffee to try and get myself to go to the bathroom. It just never happened. Eventually, after a few hours they told me I needed to get a catheter in to empty my bladder. Not. Pleasant. They did the cath and i have to say, my bladder was FULL. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As I was getting up, the nurse said, everything that could go bad or be uncomfortable after surgery, you got. I told her that it doesn't even matter, that what mattered was that God took care of me and let me get the best news ever. Much better than I, or any of my doctors expected.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;You want to hear a theory? I think God gave me all the symptoms of endometriosis so they would do the surgery and be able to fix the tube. Here's the thing, the HSG I had showed my tube was obstructed... but if we had done surgery just for that, insurance would not have paid for it and tj and i could never have afforded it. But beause of all my symptoms of endometriosis they were able to do the surgery for that, which IS covered by insurance! God really orchestrated this whole thing amazingly. I now have a 50% higher chance of getting pregnant because i now have two working tubes!! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyways, I am really hopped up on darvocet right now so please excuse the crappy everything. SO HAPPY!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8022767426736722907-8808850675145461437?l=gracelantz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/feeds/8808850675145461437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8022767426736722907&amp;postID=8808850675145461437' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/8808850675145461437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/8808850675145461437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/2010/02/surgery.html' title='Surgery!'/><author><name>happiestgirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15661230947045276268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/TGOItNqCjpI/AAAAAAAAAGE/rx4DZqvtV5I/S220/SMALL2200.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/S2zXJkv3IQI/AAAAAAAAAF0/uaA3dSK_30M/s72-c/thumbs_up.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8022767426736722907.post-5528500458396741605</id><published>2010-01-28T21:52:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-28T22:47:09.840-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Body Breakdown</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/S2KEZRDiqjI/AAAAAAAAAFs/E3cIwgw1zto/s1600-h/Knee-Pain.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432049670172092978" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/S2KEZRDiqjI/AAAAAAAAAFs/E3cIwgw1zto/s320/Knee-Pain.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I haven't written in here for quite a while... partly because I didn't have anything interesting to write about and partly because I forgot my password. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I figured I'd write about all the crappy health things i've been going through, so here goes&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;About two weeks before christmas, my friend Sarah and I decided to play tennis! It was below the freezing point and windy but who cares, we'd be running around right? It was fun, but after a few minutes my legs were numb. A few days later I started noticing my right knee swelling when I was walking on it. I decided to take it easy but a girls gotta walk! This went on till after christmas, getting so bad at times that I was walking around like frankenstein, and avoiding my right knee so much my left knee was hurting as well as my back. I came home from erie and stayed off it as much as possible. All of a sudden it stopped swelling! I was so excited... I fixed it! I was sad to realize it wasn't fixed as much as it was just... different. Now, I would go to extend it to stand up or lay down and it would crack so loud tj could hear it across the room and it felt almost as if it were snapping back into place. I didn't go to the gym or work out at all because I was afraid of irritating it or causing permanent damage. As many of you know, I am out of work right now, so thinking of dropping 20 dollarinos on a copay was out of the question. So I just waited, and rested. Well a couple weeks ago I got sick. pretty darn sick. Fever, sore throat, cough, labored breathing, and general ickiness. Well I haven't gotten completly better and I have surgery next friday (just be patient, I'll get there) so i figured, if i need antibiotics I have to see the Dr. now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;For the last 3 years I've been seeing the Nurse Practitioner at our office. I can't stand her. I could go in with a broken leg and she'd say "there's just a bug going around". Several times I've had to actively pursuade her to actually look into a problem I was having, and each time MY diagnosis was correct and hers was wrong. This time I requested to see the REAL doctor. You know, the one with the PhD. He was great! We had a conversation. That's right, I talked, he listened, he talked, I listened. It was like a breath of fresh air. He told me I had an upper respiratory infection and prescribed me some antibiotics and said I should be fine for surgery(see next paragraph) if I take them. Next I told him about my knee and he put one hand on my knee, and with his other hand moved my leg in all sorts of positions that would be uncomfortable for even the most talented contortionist. As he did this he was talking about that fun popping sound that knees do. He stopped mid sentance and said something along the lines of "Oh wow, listen to that. That is pretty bad" He continued to tell me about how the socket of my knee is all ridged and grindy instead of smooth like it should be and that my knee is in pretty bad shape. So basically I have osteoarthritis in my knee and he prescribed some anti-inflammatory medications and said we'll see how they work. I'm not to play tennis or anything that has me moving like that... you know, all squatty and running sideways type of thing. I have some exercises to do to strengthen the small muscles around my knee cap. In general the visit was nice because he addressed all my concerns, but I am slightly upset to realize I have a problem with my knee that will only get worse with time. OK. Next.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Next friday feb 5th I'm getting laparoscopic surgery for endometriosis. You can't see endometriosis with any sort of ultrasound or scan so to truly diagnose it you have to see it through surgery. My two doctors both believe I have endometriosis due to my symtoms, but like I said, you can never be sure until the surgery. They're going to go in through my belly button and a few other places and look into my pelvis and clean out any scarring and adhesions they find from the endometriosis. They will do a few other things while they're there which may, or may not, be successfull. I have known that I would probably need this surgery for over a year now... and now it's here. I am very excited to get it done, and hopefully there will be some great things that come from it. I am mostly hoping for decreased back and pelvis pain, but there are many things this surgery will affect, such as my ability to get pregnant! Here are my fears... I don't know what I'm going to hear when I wake up. There is a wide spectrum of outcomes. I could wake up from the anesthesia and my doc could say "We went in and found nothing!" Or I could wake up and hear "There was a lot of scarring and adhesions, your tubes (of the fallopian kind) are ruined and will need to be removed. We tried to remove as much as we could, but had some bleeding and had to go from laparoscopy to an open procedure" You see.... when I got my gallbladder out, my dr and I pretty much knew what we were getting ourselves into. In this case, neither of us do, and I won't know until I wake up what my fate is. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;OK so I get it, this was boring, and long. Here's the thing, it's too late now... I'm not going back through and deleting things just to make your life a little easier. I'm too tired and taking approximately 4 new drugs to spell check or clarify. I promise I'll get better with practice. Next time I'll tell you about my new "diet" and how happy it makes me. Sound interesting? check back.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8022767426736722907-5528500458396741605?l=gracelantz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/feeds/5528500458396741605/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8022767426736722907&amp;postID=5528500458396741605' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/5528500458396741605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/5528500458396741605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/2010/01/body-breakdown.html' title='Body Breakdown'/><author><name>happiestgirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15661230947045276268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/TGOItNqCjpI/AAAAAAAAAGE/rx4DZqvtV5I/S220/SMALL2200.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/S2KEZRDiqjI/AAAAAAAAAFs/E3cIwgw1zto/s72-c/Knee-Pain.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8022767426736722907.post-6830366500126020401</id><published>2009-09-22T02:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-22T03:31:20.584-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/Srika6AQuDI/AAAAAAAAAFc/9fkkU3iRuYQ/s1600-h/small28.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 227px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 305px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384234136675334194" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/Srika6AQuDI/AAAAAAAAAFc/9fkkU3iRuYQ/s320/small28.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;WARNING: This will be less like a 'blog' and more like an online journal. This is not only for you, but for me and my sub-par memory that needs any little reminders it can get.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;OK... so day one started early, with complimentary breakfast at the hotel. We got in the car and programmed our little british lady with all the cities we wanted to go to, and in what order. I have become a complete believer in navigation systems by the way. I must confess I used to be completely critical of them and worried some day one would send me over the side of a bridge or onto the wrong side of the highway. Ours has been a complete blessing... along with that and the autobahn we have been able to see so much and not waste hours and hours of driving time. Our first stop was a town called Rothenberg ob der Tauber. We drove under one of the towers that is in the surrounding city wall and were greated with an adorable town with beautiful houses and shops and plenty of flowerboxes and ... flower houses? I guess that's what you can call a house that is almost covered in flowers and vines. We parked our rented audi and walked up the stone steps to the city wall. We walked along the wall for a while, able to see down the towns small roads. We went in a few shops and saw things we liked but didn't buy anything (you must be careful not to buy too much at the first place you go, you never know what you'll find the rest of your trip!) After soaking up the towns charm we went to our next "intermediate destination" as our navagator sweetly told us in her english accent. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nordlingen was the next town we were set to see and it didn't dissapoint! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 395px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 250px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384235762106493426" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/Sril5hNP6fI/AAAAAAAAAFk/YEa4-v4dVls/s320/Small54.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;While en route, I looked in the travel book on Germany we had bought at B&amp;amp;N and read that Nordlingen was built on a crater that was caused by a meteor 'millions' of years ago. Interesting. It also had a church, St. George that had a tower called daniels tower that if you climbed it you could get 360 view of the town. Interesting. The town itself was also very charming, but much harder to find a parking place. We drove around for a while before finding a spot we could slip into that was near enough the church. The church was beautiful of course but we weren't sure how long it would take to climb the tower so we quickly headed to the entrance. The first set of stairs were the stone kind that went into a tight spiral....not too bad. On a scale of one to ten the flimsiness was about a zero but in terms of me feeling claustrophic, it was a solid 9. They seemed to go on and on until I was slightly dizzy and slightly freaking out. Finally it opened up... to more stairs. These were made of wood and creaked as you walked on them and had slots where the wood just didn't quite meet up and you could very much see through them. Now started the hyperventilating. But I kept walking. TJ started walking behind me incase I passed out. I am just going to say this was rough.... I don't know why but sometimes I can force myself to handle heights and sometimes I feel completely hopeless. I once had a panic attack over having to climb an 8 foot ladder. We walked and walked and walked and at one point the hyperventilating went away but not the fear! When we got to the top we paid the man 2 euro each and climbed outside the tower. It was beautiful. You could walk completely around the small tower although the walkway could basically only fit one person. The fresh air helped me a bit and I got out my camera and snapped some photos of the buildings, wall, and distant fields. I wanted to take one straight down but there was no way I was leaning over that wall so I grabbed the tower with one hand and reached the other over the wall and took a photo, not knowing what was below. This was the resulting photo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 295px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 199px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384227805663406674" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/SrieqZJZKlI/AAAAAAAAAFE/kO8FDFzAEd0/s320/small55.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The walk down was better but not great, I stared at my feet 100 percent of the time and had both hands grasped on the rails and walls to ensure I wouldn't plummet to my death if one of the stairs fell through. We finally made it down and I was happy to sit in our car and take chill pill. All in all, glad I did it, and glad I didn't cry. hah. pee-ess... I looked it up later and there are 365 stairs!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Our final stop was in a town called Fussen where the grass was an intense green, the likes of which I have only seen in one other place, Ireland.&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 347px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 222px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384232179242713554" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/Sriio9_9QdI/AAAAAAAAAFM/B1GONVAxTb8/s320/small79.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We instantly loved the little town at the foot of the alps and drove around trying to take it all in. We followed signs to take us to the castles. Neuschwanstein castle was beautiful, nestled into the mountain above us looking old and intricate and beautiful.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 304px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 212px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384232983616880642" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/SrijXyhtAAI/AAAAAAAAAFU/OKWW0TuKGiY/s320/small73.jpg" /&gt;The sun was going down soon and it was foggy so we didn't take the time to park and walk up, but did take some photos of the castle with the fog around it that did turn out quite nice. We went back to the town and parked and walked around and found a cute place to eat dinner. TJ order something called a pork knuckle and truly, when they set it down in front of him it still had bits of pig hair sticking off it. Tj scraped the fat off it and said the pork underneath was "good... sortof like pulled pork in memphis" I have to admit If i saw animal hair on my meat I wouldn't be able to scrape it off and pretend it was never there! Luckily my food came, quite normal looking and good tasting. It got dark as we sat there next to the window listening to people walking around town. We decided to drive back up to the castle and see if it was lit up and it was! Tj got some good pictures but they aren't loaded up yet. My camera died soon after turning it on to try and so I really have nothing to offer you considering this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was getting late and so we headed home. It took us a little under 4 hours to get home but it was all very worth it and we decided we had a very successful, fun day! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8022767426736722907-6830366500126020401?l=gracelantz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/feeds/6830366500126020401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8022767426736722907&amp;postID=6830366500126020401' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/6830366500126020401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/6830366500126020401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/2009/09/day-1.html' title='Day 1'/><author><name>happiestgirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15661230947045276268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/TGOItNqCjpI/AAAAAAAAAGE/rx4DZqvtV5I/S220/SMALL2200.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/Srika6AQuDI/AAAAAAAAAFc/9fkkU3iRuYQ/s72-c/small28.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8022767426736722907.post-5827751666957565745</id><published>2009-09-20T04:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-20T06:07:46.101-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Traveling/Accommodations</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/SrYnmJJOKHI/AAAAAAAAAE8/viQCEM3XJEk/s1600-h/1ram-map.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 235px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383533940811114610" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/SrYnmJJOKHI/AAAAAAAAAE8/viQCEM3XJEk/s320/1ram-map.gif" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I've been here about 2 1/2 days so far. I probably should start this blog with the flights. Here are the basics. My planes were first going from Memphis to Amsterdam... then Amsterdam to Frankfurt. I was standing in line to board the plane and the guy scanning the tickets was doing just that, scanning the tickets and sending people through. When he got to me he looked at my ticket and said "I need to see your passport" (I quickly open my purse and grab my passport and hand it to him) "You can't leave the country without your passport...and uh huh... you have an invalid passport" My stomach dropped to my knees.... invalid passport??? Did I accidently grab my old one with my maiden name on it?? No, turns out I forgot to sign it. He hands me a pen and tells me to step aside. My dread quickly turned into anger towards this old man who apparently wanted to be a jerk and punish me for forgetting to sign my passport by making me crap my pants. I went to my seat and fumed. Then, my journey began! My flights were generally pleasant, and included, but was not limited to.... one man sticking his knees in my seat the entire overseas flight, one seat-mate who was a fellow book reader, dachshund lover,and lover of the name claire...one semi cute inflight movie... one tired mother with one young child who had one million "whys" and three semi-decent meals.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Surprisingly I didn't have to wait long at the Frankfurt airport before TJ came to pick me up. It was so good to see him! My feelings quickly changed to dread when we got to the car, and we headed onto the autobahn. For those of you not familiar with the autobahn, it is basically a highway with no posted speed limit. For those of you not familiar with TJ, this is scarey. Oh and did I mention he rented a deisel audi? Audis are his favorite car and he pretty much is in love. The highway has parts where the speed IS posted due to unsafe conditions such as construction, exits etc. I have to say so far on the no limits areas we average 110-115mph but have gone as fast 130mph. Our oh-so-amazing audi has a digital display that shows us our speed in mph along with the km. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We reached ramstein and went straight to dinner. We stopped at a restaurant in town called Paradox (or something like that) and had schnitzel and potatoes and nice cold cokes that we later realized were 3 euros a piece (roughly 4.50 in u.s. dollars.) We finally headed to the hotel, and by then I was fully ready for bed. The hotel is called the Hotel Atlantis. It is a light blue stuccoey looking hotel several miles off base. It has 4 floors and is relatively small. Our hotel room is on the 4th floor and this is my description of it. The room has no air conditioning and is shaped rather differently than other hotel roomes with one big window on the slanted part of the ceiling/wall. We were not able to open it the first night but thank heavens there is a ceiling fan. Did I mention we're on the 4th floor and that heat rises? The walls are the same stuccoey texture as the outside of the building, but white. The floor is a hard grey and white tile and in some parts feels hot under your feet. There's a tv with a few channels, including CNN and MTV. Right now MTV's 'Made' is on, but it is dubbed over in german. The bed looks like it is made of two full beds put together in one frame and is low to the ground. The bathroom is pretty comparable to any hotel bathroom, although the TP here leans more towards the paper part of its name. Every morning there is a complimentary breakfast buffet downstairs in the restaurant that offers eggs, toast, bacon, hashbrowns, sausage, yogurt, fruit, and the customary european cold meat and cheese.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;OK I didn't plan on writing so much on the plane/hotel etc so I now need to take a break and do something less... demanding. To be continued........&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8022767426736722907-5827751666957565745?l=gracelantz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/feeds/5827751666957565745/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8022767426736722907&amp;postID=5827751666957565745' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/5827751666957565745'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/5827751666957565745'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/2009/09/travelingaccommodations.html' title='Traveling/Accommodations'/><author><name>happiestgirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15661230947045276268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/TGOItNqCjpI/AAAAAAAAAGE/rx4DZqvtV5I/S220/SMALL2200.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/SrYnmJJOKHI/AAAAAAAAAE8/viQCEM3XJEk/s72-c/1ram-map.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8022767426736722907.post-8956245320610403451</id><published>2009-06-11T18:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-11T19:50:00.227-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't say I'm not prepared.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/SjHCUExWfKI/AAAAAAAAAEs/RRTa5ZfEnMU/s1600-h/elephant20shit.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 183px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346267882799398050" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/SjHCUExWfKI/AAAAAAAAAEs/RRTa5ZfEnMU/s320/elephant20shit.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;People are always telling me 'just wait till you have kids, you won't sleep, they smell bad, they're bad, etc' I'm always telling people, I have 3 dogs.. I have an idea. Here is my argument for that statement.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It started out on tuesday. Work was hard and long. I was there from 9am till 7pm and we were b-u-s-y. I went straight to the gym and did 60 minutes on the eliptical and spent 10 minutes basking in the not-so-sun UV. I had visions of hot showers and cuddly fleece all the way home, and by the time I pulled in the driveway I could hardly think of anything else... until I walked in the house. What is that smell? Is it a gas leak? If I turn on the burner will the house explode? These are the thoughts I had as I was walking to open the door to the room the dog cage is in. I turned the handle and pushed and was instantly smacked in the face by a smell so rank my nose hairs shriveled up and became nonexistant. One quick glimpse and I saw 3 dogs stomping (or should I say splashing?) and whining in numerous puddles of crap. I quickly cleared a path from the cage to the back door, pushing aside all throw rugs and furniture. I ran the dogs outside and came back inside and formulated a plan. Blanket-trash, rubber mat-patio, cage-disassembled and put on the patio. I gathered supplies... trash bags, rubber gloves, cleaner. Soon after starting the clean-up I realized what I was REALLY dealing with. One dog must have went number 2, and the other dogs must have promptly ingested said #2 and then threw it up. everywhere. I'm talking piles of crap vomit the size of dinner plates. Let me wrap this up by saying it took almost 3 hours, two trash bags, 3 pairs of gloves and almost a whole roll of paper towels to clean it up and bathe all three dogs. (did i mention it was crusted in their fur?). When it was all finished I finally got my shower. I fell asleep around 1am that night.... with wet hair and a hint of pooh in the air.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Wednesday, 7am...my day begins. Work was worse, and just as long. I got out at 7 and saw a text from tj that said 'i'm home' I called and one of the first things out of his mouth is 'we're even'. Apparently Cody had bloody diarrhea all over. So we went through another roll of paper towels and the dogs got their second bath in two days. His diarrhea continued so we slept on the couch all night so we could better hear when he needed to go out. And he did. Need to go out. A lot. About 25 minutes before my alarm was to go off he was standing at the door, tapping the handle with his nose. I was bringing them back in when they all stepped in HUGE thing of mud. I didn't open the door to the house right away, trying to ask tj for a towel and they all took off running to the neighbors house. I broke down. I plopped on the couch face first and TJ got his shoes on and went in pursuit of the little idiots. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Needless to say, tj put the whole dog cage on a tarp today before he left for work. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Did I mention Olive is in heat?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8022767426736722907-8956245320610403451?l=gracelantz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/feeds/8956245320610403451/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8022767426736722907&amp;postID=8956245320610403451' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/8956245320610403451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/8956245320610403451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/2009/06/dont-say-im-not-prepared.html' title='Don&apos;t say I&apos;m not prepared.'/><author><name>happiestgirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15661230947045276268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/TGOItNqCjpI/AAAAAAAAAGE/rx4DZqvtV5I/S220/SMALL2200.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/SjHCUExWfKI/AAAAAAAAAEs/RRTa5ZfEnMU/s72-c/elephant20shit.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8022767426736722907.post-1610666267918799672</id><published>2009-06-06T10:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-06T11:58:13.522-07:00</updated><title type='text'>BOOO!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/Siq8O7PnmjI/AAAAAAAAAEk/lPpDzfI8dtU/s1600-h/booo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 197px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344290872435907122" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/Siq8O7PnmjI/AAAAAAAAAEk/lPpDzfI8dtU/s320/booo.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The saying:&lt;br /&gt;"time flies when you're having fun"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(And like-wise, it drags when you're not.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Application: How can I describe a day in my life? Have you ever been in a car with a teenager just learning to drive? Too much gas, slam on the breaks... too much gas, slam on the breaks. Time feels jerky, one minute it's flying a mile a minute, and the next it's slammed to a near stop, and always at the most agonizing moments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The saying&lt;br /&gt;"life isn't fair"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Application: The time I spend with my friends and TJ seem so short proportionate to the time I spend at work. How is that fair? Here is my most calculated response to that.... BOOOOO!! (thumbs and eyebrows down!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The saying (sortof):&lt;br /&gt;"..everybody's workin for the weekend!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Application: My weekdays consist of work, the gym (one of the bright spots) and a few sleepy minutes talking to tj when he gets home from work. I count down the days... I get so excited for friday night so I can stay up late and be able to sleep in the next day. But the reality that always happens is, mon-thurs night I can't fall asleep and end up getting &gt;7 hrs of sleep, and then friday night I can't keep my eyes open to save my..... important news break. Please see below.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Breaking news&lt;br /&gt;I just looked at the clock and realized it's 2pm on saturday and I'm still in my pajamas. Yes, this is sad. TJ will be home soon and this must be remedied. Please stay tuned for the exiting news of my exercise/dieting routine that is soon to come. Don't touch that mouse.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8022767426736722907-1610666267918799672?l=gracelantz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/feeds/1610666267918799672/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8022767426736722907&amp;postID=1610666267918799672' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/1610666267918799672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/1610666267918799672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/2009/06/saying-time-flies-when-youre-having-fun.html' title='BOOO!!!'/><author><name>happiestgirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15661230947045276268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/TGOItNqCjpI/AAAAAAAAAGE/rx4DZqvtV5I/S220/SMALL2200.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/Siq8O7PnmjI/AAAAAAAAAEk/lPpDzfI8dtU/s72-c/booo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8022767426736722907.post-8691288691833205760</id><published>2009-04-21T21:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-21T22:38:29.645-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Back together like pb&amp;j.... or Lois &amp; Clark.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/Se6sOI5MsmI/AAAAAAAAAEc/xmgiupp8xrE/s1600-h/59ea17d94b15a1f2fd.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 218px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327384768131412578" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/Se6sOI5MsmI/AAAAAAAAAEc/xmgiupp8xrE/s320/59ea17d94b15a1f2fd.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is probably going to be completely random but here goes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Healing from surgery is going well. Only one incision is still sore, the belly button one, and they told me it probably would be the worst. It's the largest, the one that provided the exit to my sick little buddy. I have my two week follow up thursday. I want to know when I can go back to the gym please and thank you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;TJ is home. ABOUT TIME. This last month and a half has been pure torture. Let me take a minute to outline why it has sucked. (and I'm not complaining... I'm 'venting'. It's healthy.) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;-TJ has been gone. A lot. This=Lonely. And not only has he been gone, he's been home twice, and to spain. I got one word for ya....... jealous.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;-TJ has been gone. No, you read that right. Let me elaborate. When TJ is gone things don't run smoothly at the homefront. My dogs pretty much act like idiots and make me want to kill kill kill. Their feeding schedule gets off because I get home from work so late, which means they wake me up MULTIPLE times a night to go out. And sometimes, like last night, they get loose and make me risk my life creeping around the neighbors house in the middle of the night to get them. (lets not forget I live in the south and eeeveryone has a gun...stereotypes are there for a reason folks.) This makes me hate the world. Sleep is important right? My body thinks so. Oh, and lets not forget that I have to sleep on the couch with the TV on. If I try to sleep in bed they freak out at every little noise thinking TJ is coming home and in turn freak me out and wake me up. This alone is enough to make me rip my hair out and scream "uncle!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;-For about 5 weeks I was in pain daily due to my stinky worthless gallbladder, then the painful surgery/recovery, while only missing a total of 5 days at work. Oh and did I ever mention that my job stresses me out to no end? Well it does. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;OK so there are the 3 main reasons why the last month and a half have been more than a little crap-tacular. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sorry to be so gosh-darn depressing but if you can't take my honesty, get out of my blog! But ok, here are a couple of highs to balance things out.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Church. We're having revival right now... which means 5 speakers in 4 days. I've been to 3 out of 4 so far and wow, what a blessing. Although I feel blessed every week to hear such great preaching/teaching from Dr. May, it's so exciting to learn so much in a short amount of time. I have never regretted or even thought about going to a christian college before but honestly, I've been thinking how much I would have learned and I really feel some regrets now. Just sayin.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;-OK so I can't think about anything else but let me end by saying this. No matter what is going on in my life it could never compare to what Christ did on the cross for me. And you know what I realized...not only do I not deserve it one bit, but the fact that I don't deserve it doesn't make me feel bad, it makes me feel great that He just loves me THAT MUCH. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The End.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8022767426736722907-8691288691833205760?l=gracelantz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/feeds/8691288691833205760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8022767426736722907&amp;postID=8691288691833205760' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/8691288691833205760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/8691288691833205760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/2009/04/this-is-probably-going-to-be-completely.html' title='Back together like pb&amp;j.... or Lois &amp; Clark.'/><author><name>happiestgirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15661230947045276268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/TGOItNqCjpI/AAAAAAAAAGE/rx4DZqvtV5I/S220/SMALL2200.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/Se6sOI5MsmI/AAAAAAAAAEc/xmgiupp8xrE/s72-c/59ea17d94b15a1f2fd.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8022767426736722907.post-8619550668533384619</id><published>2009-04-08T09:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-08T10:05:52.371-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Since you've been gone I feel like part of me is missing.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/SdzZaymTB4I/AAAAAAAAAEU/RC9LPRTeVxM/s1600-h/showercap1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 271px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 308px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322367913927313282" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/SdzZaymTB4I/AAAAAAAAAEU/RC9LPRTeVxM/s320/showercap1.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So after all of my blogging concerning my gallbladder I realized I never actually said when the surgery was going to be. Ta Da! It was yesterday. Let me give you a small glimpse into the day in the life of a gallbladder surgery victim. yeah.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I got to the surgery center (I opted to do that instead of the hospital... less wait, more comfortable atmosphere, friend who works there) I was taken quickly back because there had been a cancellation. They put me in a bathroom and had me change into a gown, slippers, and a shower cap. Then I went out and they started hooking me up to a blood pressure machine, oxygen saturation machine, and an IV. The Dr. of Anestesia started talking to me and asking me questions. They told me they weren't trying to gang up on me, just getting me ready fast because of that cancellation. I didn't mind. The faster the better. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dr. Fore stopped by to talk to me a bit and instantly made me feel comfortable. He couldn't be more kind and personable. Then I was informed they would be putting a tube down my throat to breath. -Bye bye calm!- Then I was informed I would be completely knocked out when they did it and when they took it out. -Nice to have you back- &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was soon wheeled into the operating room where I had to scoot over to this bed (or should I say board) that looked just slightly less wide than my hips. They started to knock me out and it went fast, but not before I saw them strapping me onto the table. yikes!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Next thing I know, I'm waking up with a mask on my face and a spear in my gut. I look down to see why I had a spear in me and to my surprise there is nothing. Then a nurse asks "how are you feeling dear?" and all I could say was "pain" and motion to the phantom spear. She walked over and made some adjustments to my IV and said ok lets kick this up a notch. BAM! Not really though, I can't remember what she said, but it was something to that affect. The next half hour/ 45 minutes consisted of a few things; sprite, nausea, pain, and that annoying thing when all you want to do is sleep and all they want you to do is wake up. They gave me something for the nausea, but it didn't work. They gave me a "cough" suppository "cough" but it didn't work. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;They wheeled me out to the car and right as we reached it, I reached for the plastic cup they gave me and puked about 3 times. I have never seen quite that shade of yellow before. I felt slightly better but clung to my new plastic cup the whole way home. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The way home... if I had to think of one word to describe it, torture I think would suffice. The surgery center is already a 35-40 minute drive from home, and we had to stop at the drugstore to get my percocet/nausea meds. Let us not forget, that about 20 minutes after taking my first percocet at the hospital I threw it up so I was running on empty. We stop at walgreens and all I can think is... percocet NOW. And as i'm sleeping in the car I wake up to a loud bang. I looked around and saw nothing and figured I am imaging things in my weird drugged up state. But soon, TJ comes out empty handed saying that the construction crew next door blew out the power so we now have to go to another walgreens. I think you could literally hear my heart break. So we drive another 15-20 minutes down the road and finally get my pain meds and headed home. I woke up and saw we were passing the train tracks. Only 5 more minutes I told myself, then bed, quiet, still, sleeping. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Once I hit the sheets I was out. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So let me just close this by saying a couple of things. First, never underestimate the pain that comes when an organ is removed from your body, no matter how routine the surgery or uneeded the organ is. Second, don't call the surgery hat a shower cap unless you want to be laughed at. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8022767426736722907-8619550668533384619?l=gracelantz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/feeds/8619550668533384619/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8022767426736722907&amp;postID=8619550668533384619' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/8619550668533384619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/8619550668533384619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/2009/04/since-youve-been-gone-i-feel-like-part.html' title='Since you&apos;ve been gone I feel like part of me is missing.'/><author><name>happiestgirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15661230947045276268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/TGOItNqCjpI/AAAAAAAAAGE/rx4DZqvtV5I/S220/SMALL2200.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/SdzZaymTB4I/AAAAAAAAAEU/RC9LPRTeVxM/s72-c/showercap1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8022767426736722907.post-990242034584698251</id><published>2009-04-04T10:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-04T10:55:36.243-07:00</updated><title type='text'>to spill or not to spill?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/Sdee_50lUWI/AAAAAAAAAEM/muiM7azrWbU/s1600-h/spill.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 245px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320896305451848034" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/Sdee_50lUWI/AAAAAAAAAEM/muiM7azrWbU/s320/spill.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'd like to put a couple things out there that worry me slightly. I'll make this brief.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;exhibit A: A few months ago I was driving along when I realized I used the last of the toothpaste this morning. Without thinking, I picked up my closed cellphone and held it like a recorder, clicked an invisible button and said "Note to self, need toothpaste". I set it down and realized what I had done. And the kicker, when I hit the invisible button I made a clicking nose with my tongue. I laughed at myself. outloud.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;exhibit B: Last night I got a sharp pain in my stomach and I looked down and said "I hope you enjoy these last few days in your warm little home because soon you'll be cold and alone in a trashcan somewhere." I was alone. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And there it is.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8022767426736722907-990242034584698251?l=gracelantz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/feeds/990242034584698251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8022767426736722907&amp;postID=990242034584698251' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/990242034584698251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/990242034584698251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/2009/04/to-spill-or-not-to-spill.html' title='to spill or not to spill?'/><author><name>happiestgirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15661230947045276268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/TGOItNqCjpI/AAAAAAAAAGE/rx4DZqvtV5I/S220/SMALL2200.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/Sdee_50lUWI/AAAAAAAAAEM/muiM7azrWbU/s72-c/spill.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8022767426736722907.post-592786990028907323</id><published>2009-04-01T20:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T20:34:27.295-07:00</updated><title type='text'>yawn...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/SdQyO1bgQ4I/AAAAAAAAAEE/6b7bHTJswN4/s1600-h/yawn.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319932290273395586" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/SdQyO1bgQ4I/AAAAAAAAAEE/6b7bHTJswN4/s320/yawn.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tomorrow is Thursday. Thursday is one day away from Friday. Friday means weekend. Weekend means TJ. Therefore I love thursday. Tomorrow I am meeting with the surgeon to find out when my gallbladder will be removed. Let's hope it's soon... I can't deal with much more of this! OK i just realized I am too tired to write anymore. Big whoop, wanna fight about it?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8022767426736722907-592786990028907323?l=gracelantz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/feeds/592786990028907323/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8022767426736722907&amp;postID=592786990028907323' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/592786990028907323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/592786990028907323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/2009/04/yawn.html' title='yawn...'/><author><name>happiestgirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15661230947045276268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/TGOItNqCjpI/AAAAAAAAAGE/rx4DZqvtV5I/S220/SMALL2200.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/SdQyO1bgQ4I/AAAAAAAAAEE/6b7bHTJswN4/s72-c/yawn.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8022767426736722907.post-8116804708346655561</id><published>2009-03-25T21:14:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T21:25:20.475-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Gallbladder... be gone!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/ScsDqb0huAI/AAAAAAAAAD8/VP-3vm8KOts/s1600-h/funny-surgical-mask-2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 224px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317347812598462466" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/ScsDqb0huAI/AAAAAAAAAD8/VP-3vm8KOts/s320/funny-surgical-mask-2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So that's the prognosis... surgical removal of my "abnormally functioning" gallbladder. When I got the call today I was nervous and most of all relieved.... relieved to know what the heck this was all about! It was driving me crazy having this terrible pain and not knowing what it was. Now at least I know that I have a defective organ that needs to be pulled out through a little laparascopic hole in my stomach. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8022767426736722907-8116804708346655561?l=gracelantz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/feeds/8116804708346655561/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8022767426736722907&amp;postID=8116804708346655561' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/8116804708346655561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/8116804708346655561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/2009/03/gallbladder-be-gone.html' title='Gallbladder... be gone!'/><author><name>happiestgirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15661230947045276268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/TGOItNqCjpI/AAAAAAAAAGE/rx4DZqvtV5I/S220/SMALL2200.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/ScsDqb0huAI/AAAAAAAAAD8/VP-3vm8KOts/s72-c/funny-surgical-mask-2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8022767426736722907.post-7392268051285768204</id><published>2009-03-22T18:15:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-22T18:29:51.352-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Photo Break!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/Scbl4bf49dI/AAAAAAAAAD0/yJjhxji1TRw/s1600-h/smallSNC00067.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316189167774397906" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/Scbl4bf49dI/AAAAAAAAAD0/yJjhxji1TRw/s320/smallSNC00067.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/ScblNQusaZI/AAAAAAAAADs/DjGt--ZS0O8/s1600-h/smallSNC00062.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316188426149325202" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/ScblNQusaZI/AAAAAAAAADs/DjGt--ZS0O8/s320/smallSNC00062.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/Scbjnka-TaI/AAAAAAAAADk/rChkihx2bdc/s1600-h/smallSNC00046.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316186679088663970" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/Scbjnka-TaI/AAAAAAAAADk/rChkihx2bdc/s320/smallSNC00046.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/ScbjCILz4ZI/AAAAAAAAADc/ZpNtwZSetHU/s1600-h/smallSNC00040.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316186035853713810" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/ScbjCILz4ZI/AAAAAAAAADc/ZpNtwZSetHU/s320/smallSNC00040.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8022767426736722907-7392268051285768204?l=gracelantz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/feeds/7392268051285768204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8022767426736722907&amp;postID=7392268051285768204' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/7392268051285768204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/7392268051285768204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/2009/03/photo-break_22.html' title='Photo Break!!'/><author><name>happiestgirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15661230947045276268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/TGOItNqCjpI/AAAAAAAAAGE/rx4DZqvtV5I/S220/SMALL2200.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/Scbl4bf49dI/AAAAAAAAAD0/yJjhxji1TRw/s72-c/smallSNC00067.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8022767426736722907.post-4250552927291723087</id><published>2009-03-20T19:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-20T20:22:00.527-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Health; why it sucks.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/ScRcnkXn6EI/AAAAAAAAADU/VvffkCXERcw/s1600-h/UpperEndoscopyWeb,0.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 318px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315475295051442242" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/ScRcnkXn6EI/AAAAAAAAADU/VvffkCXERcw/s320/UpperEndoscopyWeb,0.gif" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Let's start off by saying this.... today I got an upper GI endoscopy. For those of you who don't know what that is.... here's how it went. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Traded in the track jacket (go penn state!) for a paper gown.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Had an IV put in my delicate little hand.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Was prepped by 3 nurses while simultaneously being grilled about my tattoos, eyelashes, and earrings.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;(Said prepping included a painful blood pressure cuff, oxygen being pumped into my nose, and a plastic O put in my mouth and strapped around my head like one of those torture gag things.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;While I was knocked out the doctor put a tube down my throat with a camera and looked at my esophagus, stomach, and part of my intestine and took a sample for biopsy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ta da! I woke up not long after in the room where I started!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;SO.....After putting my clothes back on the doctor came in saying I had a bunch of tiny ulcers and that he took some tissue to biopsy but he though that was not the cause of my pain. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now I have to go on tuesday and get a HIDA scan.... which will further test the functioning of my gallbladder. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;WISH ME LUCK!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ps.... I have been in so much pain the last week it's nuts.... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8022767426736722907-4250552927291723087?l=gracelantz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/feeds/4250552927291723087/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8022767426736722907&amp;postID=4250552927291723087' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/4250552927291723087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/4250552927291723087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/2009/03/my-health-why-it-sucks.html' title='My Health; why it sucks.'/><author><name>happiestgirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15661230947045276268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/TGOItNqCjpI/AAAAAAAAAGE/rx4DZqvtV5I/S220/SMALL2200.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/ScRcnkXn6EI/AAAAAAAAADU/VvffkCXERcw/s72-c/UpperEndoscopyWeb,0.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8022767426736722907.post-6829729791756898188</id><published>2009-03-12T18:15:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-12T19:23:58.028-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/SbnDfyTbXzI/AAAAAAAAACo/KDRV6aDTzv8/s1600-h/SNC00006.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 218px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312492186306830130" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/SbnDfyTbXzI/AAAAAAAAACo/KDRV6aDTzv8/s320/SNC00006.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;OK. So it's been a while right? It's hard to have motivation to write when no one really knows I have this blog. So I'm going to do a quick update on my life. (in order of importance)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;GOD: More in love with Him than ever! I belong to the most amazing church that has made memphis feel like home more than I ever thought it could. I help out with the youth group regularly and love it! (wasn't I a teenager like a minute ago?)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;TJ: More in love with HIM than ever! (funny how that happens right?) We've had our rough moments but by the grace of God we pushed through and what a wonderful man! Sweet, handsome, and funny. What else could I have asked for?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;WORK: I work at The West Clinic. It is one of the top cancer clinics in the mid-south. I love the patients, but my job stresses me out to no end. I started out as a student in the lab drawing blood. I LOVE PHLEBOTOMY. Some people think it's sick to enjoy sticking people with needles, but they just don't get it... I enjoy sticking people WELL with needles... and hearing them say "I barely felt that!". Well on the last day of the clinical portion of my schooling a position opened up at the front desk and I had to decide if I wanted to do what I love (phlebotomy) somewhere else, or be at the front desk of a clinic I love. So here I am.. working the toughest, most stressfull job I've ever had. But you know, it's all worth it when a patients face lights up when they see me... or when they heartfully thank me for fighting the hospital to get their biopsy done in a few days instead of a few weeks. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;SELF: Two days ago I did the most selfish and wonderful thing. I joined a gym. I have a treadmill and a weight bench... but coming home after 8-10 hours of stressful hard work never really puts me in the mood to use them. The second I get home my energy starts deteriorating. The gym I joined is amazing....I felt instantly comfortable and relaxed. I love it! I would spend hours there a day if I had the time. Why can't I get paid to work out? Then I'd be thin and rich. Would anyone like to fund my dream? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So there it is... a very detailed and boring update on my world. Come back... It will improve I swear. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8022767426736722907-6829729791756898188?l=gracelantz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/feeds/6829729791756898188/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8022767426736722907&amp;postID=6829729791756898188' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/6829729791756898188'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/6829729791756898188'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/2009/03/ok.html' title=''/><author><name>happiestgirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15661230947045276268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/TGOItNqCjpI/AAAAAAAAAGE/rx4DZqvtV5I/S220/SMALL2200.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/SbnDfyTbXzI/AAAAAAAAACo/KDRV6aDTzv8/s72-c/SNC00006.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8022767426736722907.post-1601974527915955597</id><published>2008-01-08T17:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-08T17:55:29.098-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>PS. My flowers at the wedding were exactly what I did not want.  literally I said I didn't want a rounded bouquet and I didn't want roses.  Oh yeah did i mention I didn't want a white bouquet either.  And take a gander at the photos, i have a rounded white bouquet of roses.  I swear he got his " likes" and "dislikes" columns mixed up.   And he never replied to the strongly worded letter he got from us either.  go figure.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8022767426736722907-1601974527915955597?l=gracelantz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/feeds/1601974527915955597/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8022767426736722907&amp;postID=1601974527915955597' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/1601974527915955597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/1601974527915955597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/2008/01/ps.html' title=''/><author><name>happiestgirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15661230947045276268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/TGOItNqCjpI/AAAAAAAAAGE/rx4DZqvtV5I/S220/SMALL2200.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8022767426736722907.post-1305141314525506051</id><published>2008-01-08T17:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-08T17:45:30.089-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I DO</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/R4QnBUP-xkI/AAAAAAAAABs/y27XLbQbH48/s1600-h/DSCN6506.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5153286777187780162" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/R4QnBUP-xkI/AAAAAAAAABs/y27XLbQbH48/s320/DSCN6506.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/R4QmzUP-xjI/AAAAAAAAABk/PrKf4lWATGo/s1600-h/DSCN6482.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5153286536669611570" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/R4QmzUP-xjI/AAAAAAAAABk/PrKf4lWATGo/s320/DSCN6482.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/R4QmP0P-xiI/AAAAAAAAABc/wr_ptINMTs8/s1600-h/DSCN6430.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5153285926784255522" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/R4QmP0P-xiI/AAAAAAAAABc/wr_ptINMTs8/s320/DSCN6430.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/R4Ql7kP-xhI/AAAAAAAAABU/GGMry03VTOM/s1600-h/DSCN6410.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5153285578891904530" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/R4Ql7kP-xhI/AAAAAAAAABU/GGMry03VTOM/s320/DSCN6410.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/R4QkQEP-xgI/AAAAAAAAABM/h1Vd2NGrM5c/s1600-h/smallDSCN6367.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5153283732055967234" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/R4QkQEP-xgI/AAAAAAAAABM/h1Vd2NGrM5c/s320/smallDSCN6367.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/R4QkEUP-xfI/AAAAAAAAABE/jK8zcm6RO8Y/s1600-h/smallDSCN6359.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5153283530192504306" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/R4QkEUP-xfI/AAAAAAAAABE/jK8zcm6RO8Y/s320/smallDSCN6359.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/R4Qj3EP-xeI/AAAAAAAAAA8/Abb88PYKgY0/s1600-h/smallDSCN6351.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5153283302559237602" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/R4Qj3EP-xeI/AAAAAAAAAA8/Abb88PYKgY0/s320/smallDSCN6351.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Even though I have yet to tell anyone that I have a blog, I may in the future and they just might want to see me in my weddin dress. So here goes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8022767426736722907-1305141314525506051?l=gracelantz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/feeds/1305141314525506051/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8022767426736722907&amp;postID=1305141314525506051' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/1305141314525506051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/1305141314525506051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/2008/01/i-do.html' title='I DO'/><author><name>happiestgirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15661230947045276268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/TGOItNqCjpI/AAAAAAAAAGE/rx4DZqvtV5I/S220/SMALL2200.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/R4QnBUP-xkI/AAAAAAAAABs/y27XLbQbH48/s72-c/DSCN6506.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8022767426736722907.post-8875335026314843792</id><published>2008-01-07T09:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-07T10:02:31.440-08:00</updated><title type='text'>There are 2 white mice living in my bathtub</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/R4JpEEP-xdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/-lY5xZdmBN8/s1600-h/20070807111521.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5152796442246432210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/R4JpEEP-xdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/-lY5xZdmBN8/s320/20070807111521.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yes, it's true. We bought them for dwight, my ball python before realizing he had begun to shed and won't eat for another week or so. So what to do now with 5 dollars worth of mice? we put the stopper in the master bath, tipped over their cardboard carrying box, put a few cardboard toilet paper rolls in there and toilet paper to keep them warm. We've been feeding them smockhouse cheddar crackers that have been in the cupboard for months. It's actually quite cute seeing and hearing them nibble away at this huge cracker. I can't let myself become too attached though, since they are to be dwights dinner. We always get the creepy white mice with the red eyes because I feel less guilty when they die. I convince myself their eyes are red because they are evil. It works. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8022767426736722907-8875335026314843792?l=gracelantz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/feeds/8875335026314843792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8022767426736722907&amp;postID=8875335026314843792' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/8875335026314843792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/8875335026314843792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/2008/01/there-are-2-white-mice-living-in-my.html' title='There are 2 white mice living in my bathtub'/><author><name>happiestgirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15661230947045276268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/TGOItNqCjpI/AAAAAAAAAGE/rx4DZqvtV5I/S220/SMALL2200.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/R4JpEEP-xdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/-lY5xZdmBN8/s72-c/20070807111521.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8022767426736722907.post-6927369817269159371</id><published>2007-10-30T21:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-30T21:44:36.597-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Now I know how ray charles felt. slightly.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/RygICdIdyxI/AAAAAAAAAAs/U5gXvJhSdio/s1600-h/raycharles1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5127357014034205458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/RygICdIdyxI/AAAAAAAAAAs/U5gXvJhSdio/s320/raycharles1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I woke up today half blind. I was shocked but soon realized my right eyelid was crusted closed. I have the pink eye. No idea where I got it, all I know is I got it. All day I've been wearing my glasses (with outdated prescriptions I should add) and it has not been that pleasant. I got the night off work, but to do what? Try to watch tv and get a headache? It just hasn't been the best night. Now TJ is home, playing playstation, and I finally have a computer to play with. 20 minutes into said computer time and I am already getting bored, go figure. Falling asleep is going to be hard, seeing as how I slept from 7am till 5pm preparing to work 3rd shift again. Is it wrong to take NyQuil when you aren't sick? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8022767426736722907-6927369817269159371?l=gracelantz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/feeds/6927369817269159371/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8022767426736722907&amp;postID=6927369817269159371' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/6927369817269159371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/6927369817269159371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/2007/10/now-i-know-how-ray-charles-felt.html' title='Now I know how ray charles felt. slightly.'/><author><name>happiestgirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15661230947045276268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/TGOItNqCjpI/AAAAAAAAAGE/rx4DZqvtV5I/S220/SMALL2200.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/RygICdIdyxI/AAAAAAAAAAs/U5gXvJhSdio/s72-c/raycharles1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8022767426736722907.post-8303354032618575566</id><published>2007-10-29T12:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-29T16:13:53.746-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanks-Be-Givin</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/RyY20tIdywI/AAAAAAAAAAk/9I2Uqgvs3l8/s1600-h/dannywedding+084.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126845504904088322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/RyY20tIdywI/AAAAAAAAAAk/9I2Uqgvs3l8/s320/dannywedding+084.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Preparing for thanksgiving has commenced. We bought the turkey, a 13 pound butterball beauty. We are so excited to not be alone this thanksgiving with a butt load of food. Mom, Dad and Joel will be here.... and they can have something to give thanks for, that they don't live in mississippi. I just wish we had more things to decorate the house with. Almost everything was TJ's from before we met. The TV, the laptop, the computer, the couch, the chair, the coffee table, the end tables, etc are all very bacheloresque and very much 'used'. The two things I have contributed to the house are the dining room table with no chairs that was handed down from D&amp;amp;S to my parents, and then from my parents to me and desperately needs refinished, And the hutch in the kitchen that was also given to me by my parents, and also is a wreck and needs refinished. Some day.... I tell ya, my house will look like a house and not a boys dorm room. The time will come. Later rather than sooner.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8022767426736722907-8303354032618575566?l=gracelantz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/feeds/8303354032618575566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8022767426736722907&amp;postID=8303354032618575566' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/8303354032618575566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/8303354032618575566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/2007/10/preparing-for-thanksgiving-has.html' title='Thanks-Be-Givin'/><author><name>happiestgirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15661230947045276268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/TGOItNqCjpI/AAAAAAAAAGE/rx4DZqvtV5I/S220/SMALL2200.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/RyY20tIdywI/AAAAAAAAAAk/9I2Uqgvs3l8/s72-c/dannywedding+084.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8022767426736722907.post-3960635047039786146</id><published>2007-10-28T17:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-28T17:36:00.954-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Add a half stick of butter...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/RyUovNIdyvI/AAAAAAAAAAc/CoTRlB4snwI/s1600-h/julia.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126548542275308274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/RyUovNIdyvI/AAAAAAAAAAc/CoTRlB4snwI/s320/julia.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/RyUoTNIdyuI/AAAAAAAAAAU/s0uCmFnPkqQ/s1600-h/julia.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I guess I am more like julia than I thought.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Butter: $2.19&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sugar: $1.50&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cocoa: $1.79&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oatmeal: $2.99&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;PB: $2.25&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Seeing an empty plate where my no-bakes once sat: Priceless &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8022767426736722907-3960635047039786146?l=gracelantz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/feeds/3960635047039786146/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8022767426736722907&amp;postID=3960635047039786146' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/3960635047039786146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/3960635047039786146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/2007/10/i-guess-i-am-more-like-julia-than-i.html' title='Add a half stick of butter...'/><author><name>happiestgirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15661230947045276268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/TGOItNqCjpI/AAAAAAAAAGE/rx4DZqvtV5I/S220/SMALL2200.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/RyUovNIdyvI/AAAAAAAAAAc/CoTRlB4snwI/s72-c/julia.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8022767426736722907.post-2553950290883257128</id><published>2007-10-27T22:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-27T22:54:22.298-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A nice batch of fresh cooked cookies. yum</title><content type='html'>I screwed up my first batch of no-bakes. How does that even happen?   I forgot tomorrow after church is a lunch-dinner/ l-inner type of thing where we are supposed to bring a  meat, a veggie, and a desert. SO I've been up cooking and no-baking for 3 hours now and wishing I were more julia child like and less.... me like.   Oh well, they're christians, even if it sucks they'll rave about it and ask for the recipe.  Thank God for that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8022767426736722907-2553950290883257128?l=gracelantz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/feeds/2553950290883257128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8022767426736722907&amp;postID=2553950290883257128' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/2553950290883257128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/2553950290883257128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/2007/10/nice-batch-of-fresh-cooked-cookies-yum.html' title='A nice batch of fresh cooked cookies. yum'/><author><name>happiestgirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15661230947045276268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/TGOItNqCjpI/AAAAAAAAAGE/rx4DZqvtV5I/S220/SMALL2200.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8022767426736722907.post-6446294214464277490</id><published>2007-10-26T23:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-26T23:21:29.031-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Debt free, please.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/RyLY19IdytI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UwH4jg6L6do/s1600-h/0808061329b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5125897747355781842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/RyLY19IdytI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UwH4jg6L6do/s320/0808061329b.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Starting Nov 1st, I will be in charge of the family finances. We'll see how this all goes. In my mind I am a financial genious but who knows how that will translate into real life. I also imagine myself drawing the perfect picture but it usually turns out looking like a 2nd grade art project. Wish Dave Ramsey and I good luck.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8022767426736722907-6446294214464277490?l=gracelantz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/feeds/6446294214464277490/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8022767426736722907&amp;postID=6446294214464277490' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/6446294214464277490'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8022767426736722907/posts/default/6446294214464277490'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gracelantz.blogspot.com/2007/10/debt-free-please.html' title='Debt free, please.'/><author><name>happiestgirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15661230947045276268</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/TGOItNqCjpI/AAAAAAAAAGE/rx4DZqvtV5I/S220/SMALL2200.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l6vAj3NC7w4/RyLY19IdytI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UwH4jg6L6do/s72-c/0808061329b.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
