<?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-7792298450091091838</id><updated>2012-02-16T19:49:54.763-08:00</updated><category term='chickens'/><title type='text'>Small Town Chicks</title><subtitle type='html'>Hey there fellow chicks, please respond to my blogs, I would love to hear from you, lets get a great conversation going...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>91</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-3066471261620570459</id><published>2011-09-05T06:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-05T06:45:15.320-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New Biz</title><content type='html'>Hey there, I know it has been like 6 months since I have updated this but I have been busy building a new biz. I am so pumped about Small Town Chicks. I mean it was great before but now it is really adding value, it is so energized and I hope you will all join me for the ride. Go check out the rest of the site for details.&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-3066471261620570459?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/3066471261620570459/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/09/new-biz.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/3066471261620570459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/3066471261620570459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/09/new-biz.html' title='New Biz'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-2405341092371558529</id><published>2011-07-02T21:08:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-02T21:08:37.626-07:00</updated><title type='text'>universe</title><content type='html'>If we believe in the universe and the power of focusing on what you want in life and out of your life than why does it often happen that we lose site of our goals and find ourselves travelling down negative paths? That is where I am at right now I was plugging right along but I was not focusing on attaining anything, just accepting life as it came to me, and all of the sudden things are starting to unravel. So I have to readjust my self and my thoughts to focus on the goal again. Why do we do that? Wouldn't it be easier to just always be focused and not lose sight? Should it be a morning ritual, to remind yourself to focus. Maybe the journal writing process is the answer where you wake up and start writing what is in your head asap, not overthinking. I am open to ideas my fellow universe goers!!&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-2405341092371558529?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/2405341092371558529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/07/universe.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/2405341092371558529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/2405341092371558529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/07/universe.html' title='universe'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-827628400215976934</id><published>2011-06-21T14:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-21T14:42:49.239-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Reparian Rules by Retards</title><content type='html'>Who puts these people into power that really only want to be seen and heard, they are not doing what is best for the people that they are apparently "supporting". I usually don't pay a lot of attention to these types of debates but when I buy a house or piece of property and I pay my taxes then I would think I should be able to grow a garden or put up a fence wherever I please, within legal reason and by legal I mean reasonable. This new reparian crap is just that and totally unreasonable. Maybe it is time for the Islands Trust to adpot a new attitude and get lost!! Haven't you heard the saying "children should be seen and not heard?"... it applies here!!&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-827628400215976934?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/827628400215976934/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/06/reparian-rules-by-retards.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/827628400215976934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/827628400215976934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/06/reparian-rules-by-retards.html' title='Reparian Rules by Retards'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-5454206774236391428</id><published>2011-06-09T12:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-09T12:50:05.902-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Chauferring Kids</title><content type='html'>Do you ever feel that all you do is drive kids around all day. Your conversation as you are flying out the door to your hubby is "Well I have to drop off one here and then the other is going to have a playdate with so and so and then your sister is picking up one and taking them to the moon... It becomes exhausting, I mean do I ever go anywhere that doesn't include a drop off or a pick up?? Oh yes, yippee I do to the doctor or chiro!! Someone needs to get a program together for chauferring kids that is not the school bus!! Got to go, someone needs to be picked up!&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-5454206774236391428?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/5454206774236391428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/06/chauferring-kids.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/5454206774236391428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/5454206774236391428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/06/chauferring-kids.html' title='Chauferring Kids'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-9105541185300929120</id><published>2011-06-08T16:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-08T16:59:37.786-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Kindie Orientation</title><content type='html'>So my little guy went to his first kindie orientation, and we were both nervous, but it did not take more than thirty seconds for him to not care that I was there. He played for about 1/2 hour and then when it was time to go back into a circle he started to have that deer in the head lights look. I have to say I hate for him to be scared but I was a bit relieved to see he still needed me. I know sad, but I am just not ready to let him go into the world of responsibility. I know others feel my pain.&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-9105541185300929120?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/9105541185300929120/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/06/kindie-orientation.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/9105541185300929120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/9105541185300929120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/06/kindie-orientation.html' title='Kindie Orientation'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-7550157753817925690</id><published>2011-05-18T20:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-18T21:00:33.356-07:00</updated><title type='text'>amazing souls</title><content type='html'>Today I had the pleasure of meeting up with two amazing women. It is not often that you find people who are at exactly the same point in their lives who are also looking for friendship and the sharing of ideas like you, at the same time. It was one of those times that you really don't want the hours to pass because you are so excited to be there sharing your stories and experiences. I hope you all find that or have that in your lives, if not go out and look for it, it is totally worth it, and so inspiring. M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-7550157753817925690?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/7550157753817925690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/05/amazing-souls.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/7550157753817925690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/7550157753817925690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/05/amazing-souls.html' title='amazing souls'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-1597619331632503021</id><published>2011-05-17T19:29:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-17T19:32:07.566-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Out of the mouths of babes...</title><content type='html'>So my son says last night "how come they buried great-grandad in the backyard?", ...how the hell do you respond to that? I said "well honey he isn't buried there, they just set up a memorial where you can go and sit and think of that person", he then says "well, where did he go?" (OMG), my response, "he just went away", what the hell am I stupid talk about begging for another question!!! Anyway this time I was able to let it go at that and warn the grandparents that he might be calling them for more information. I know it is passing the buck, but what else do you say?? &lt;br /&gt;To funny&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-1597619331632503021?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/1597619331632503021/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/05/out-of-mouths-of-babes.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/1597619331632503021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/1597619331632503021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/05/out-of-mouths-of-babes.html' title='Out of the mouths of babes...'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-6317466691773533905</id><published>2011-05-03T20:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-03T20:51:34.051-07:00</updated><title type='text'>back in the saddle</title><content type='html'>I have been icognito for a few weeks with moving our stuff and trying to finish this house. I took off to Vancouver for a few to spend some time with my family and to be honest to get away from it all. We had a great time, although my son has started the habit of picking up strange women where ever he goes, I mean they are not actually strange we just don't know them. He chats them up, tells them his name and then goes in for the kill by showing them his latest lego artwork, very interesting moves he has, but he sucks them in every time. Anyway we are alive and well, talk to you soon. M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-6317466691773533905?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/6317466691773533905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/05/back-in-saddle.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/6317466691773533905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/6317466691773533905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/05/back-in-saddle.html' title='back in the saddle'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-3224670790897970162</id><published>2011-04-19T19:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-19T19:34:06.700-07:00</updated><title type='text'>moving</title><content type='html'>Hey there, sorry I have been out of touch, we were moving our belongings into the new house. Moving is so much fun, it really gets you in touch with the alcoholic side of things. We still have to wait to really settle until we have our inspection but should be any day now. Until then my blogs may be as sporatic as my brain. M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-3224670790897970162?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/3224670790897970162/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/04/moving.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/3224670790897970162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/3224670790897970162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/04/moving.html' title='moving'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-183370437183475127</id><published>2011-04-11T19:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-11T19:32:51.207-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My son changed his name</title><content type='html'>My son has changed his name to Nakota. There is no more explanation than that, he just decided he was done with his birth name and this was his new name, we do not know anyone with that name or anyone even close to it. So we go into the insurance place and I say "and this is my son Chase", he says "uh mom, member my name is now Nakota", are you kidding me with this!! Like I don't have enough to do than to now remember to address my son as Nakota, good grief. M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-183370437183475127?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/183370437183475127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/04/my-son-changed-his-name.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/183370437183475127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/183370437183475127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/04/my-son-changed-his-name.html' title='My son changed his name'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-4963778903815526074</id><published>2011-04-10T20:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-10T21:00:21.627-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleepover in the new house</title><content type='html'>So exciting! We had a sleepover in the new house last night and we are one week away from getting in. It is so great to look around at all your work and know it is all yours. We have come a long way on this adventure both spiritually and emotionally and to have this as the completion on this chapter of our lives is so great. We still don't have counters or toilets but another couple of days and we won't be peeing in the bush anymore, ha, ha.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-4963778903815526074?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/4963778903815526074/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/04/sleepover-in-new-house.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/4963778903815526074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/4963778903815526074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/04/sleepover-in-new-house.html' title='Sleepover in the new house'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-3722696564528669792</id><published>2011-04-04T19:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-04T19:49:08.189-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Confrontation</title><content type='html'>Isn't confrontaton nasty? I mean sometimes it is the way to go and just by having a conversation that is uncomfortable, it fixes everything and everyone feels better. But gettting there is awful, the not knowing how it will be reciprocated, if the person feels the same or am I the crazy one. In the end any form of constructive communication is useful, but so hard. One positive I have noticed though is to use your incidents as a learning tool for your kids, what better way to lead through example than this one. We always tell them to use their words, well there you go. M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-3722696564528669792?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/3722696564528669792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/04/confrontation.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/3722696564528669792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/3722696564528669792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/04/confrontation.html' title='Confrontation'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-8780451794693008573</id><published>2011-04-03T13:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-03T14:37:31.213-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Watch the swear words</title><content type='html'>I am the queen of swearing, when I used to work in the Corporate world, I was told often in performance reviews that I needed to watch my mouth, that I was very similiar to a long shoreman. Nice!! So since I have had my kids I have had to tone it down. Needless to say I have not lost my zest for swearing, I still get in a few zingers now and again, and as my kids are growing I seem to be letting them slip more frequently and with more ease. So yesterday when I was super annoyed at some so called friends I said in front of my kids " I am still so pissed off", which isn't really bad but it would be good if it didn't get repeated. Sure enough my 5 year old after having a fit says, "I still love you, but I am so pissed off". Needless to say we all laughed, but once again it reminded us to watch our mouthes!!&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-8780451794693008573?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/8780451794693008573/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/04/watch-swear-words.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/8780451794693008573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/8780451794693008573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/04/watch-swear-words.html' title='Watch the swear words'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-3261648526260948033</id><published>2011-03-30T17:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-30T17:37:10.804-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mamma mia!!</title><content type='html'>Holy cow, so the music that I used to listen to when I was young is coming back around. My daughter and son are totally into Mamma Mia, aka ABBA. It is so funny though when I looked up ABBA on you tube, the kids didn't get it because it wasn't the very hip Meryl Streep that they saw in the movie and while I agree that Pierce Bronson should be in any movie or music video, it just isn't what we watched when we were little, it is now a fancy, modern version of the oldies. Oh well, at least we have something in common. M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-3261648526260948033?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/3261648526260948033/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/03/mamma-mia.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/3261648526260948033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/3261648526260948033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/03/mamma-mia.html' title='Mamma mia!!'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-6132157326131705465</id><published>2011-03-26T15:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-26T15:04:43.698-07:00</updated><title type='text'>boredom</title><content type='html'>Day 16 of Spring Break, the kids are both over stimulated with bdays and visits and also bored at the same time, is that even possible. So that means that Mommy is going freakin' crazy, which also means and ultimatley leads to alcohol consumption. So to all those mommies out there who are ready to see if their children really can fly, by testing it out off the deck, have a drink only two more days.&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-6132157326131705465?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/6132157326131705465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/03/boredom.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/6132157326131705465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/6132157326131705465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/03/boredom.html' title='boredom'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-1969943288611085</id><published>2011-03-24T21:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-24T21:14:29.868-07:00</updated><title type='text'>He will be 5 in 2 days...</title><content type='html'>So my son, who is almost 5, thinks that he is betrothed to an equally small little girl. We saw her yesterday, and she was throwing pine cones at him and trying to hit him with a stick. When we got home he decided that he needed to call his future mother in law and ask what Sidney's new boyfriend wore most often. After many minutes of trying not to pee my pants he told me that he needed this information so that he could go and buy this same outfit and look the same so she would love him again!! No seriously, how friggin cute is that, he took the pine cone bombers as a subtle hint that she was with someone new, too cute. Got to love em!!&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-1969943288611085?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/1969943288611085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/03/he-will-be-5-in-2-days.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/1969943288611085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/1969943288611085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/03/he-will-be-5-in-2-days.html' title='He will be 5 in 2 days...'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-4485091046702409739</id><published>2011-03-22T19:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-22T19:49:59.983-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My time...</title><content type='html'>At what point in your frusturated life do you just give in and say you have had enough and take a much needed break. I am one of these women who shoulders alot and doesn't really put up my hand for help, unless I am desperate, but not just help for a couple of hours, help in regards to a whole day that is meant for you, know groceries, bill paying, tile seeking, no just a day about you. I am at that point, love my family to bits, but I can't even blog without being interupted and demanded of. Case in point I just put my kids down for the night and there is my 5 year old standing in the doorway needing me, AGAIN!! But he doesn't REALLY need me, he just wants to get out of bed, every night same thing. When do we put up our hands and cry refuge, before we go crazy??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-4485091046702409739?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/4485091046702409739/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/03/my-time.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/4485091046702409739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/4485091046702409739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/03/my-time.html' title='My time...'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-7093450641022152966</id><published>2011-03-20T10:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-20T10:45:13.151-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Birthdays</title><content type='html'>It is that time again, my kids birthdays are 2 years and 6 days apart, this year they are turning 7 and 5, so crazy, time is so decieving, in a doctors waiting room it moves at a snails pace and in terms of your childrens growth it moves crazy fast. Every year I reflect on the days leading up to the birthday on each childs delivery, sitting in the hospital so caught up in the wonder of it all. And it made me realize that we should try and take time all throughout the year to appreciate those golden moments so that we don't eventually forget those little details, that made that moment so amazing and life altering. Give your kids a hug today, and appreciate the wonder of them, even if they are driving you nuts!!&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-7093450641022152966?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/7093450641022152966/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/03/birthdays.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/7093450641022152966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/7093450641022152966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/03/birthdays.html' title='Birthdays'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-5198303256594184771</id><published>2011-03-17T19:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-17T19:59:07.076-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Flu Bugs</title><content type='html'>Why is it that you always get hit by a bug when you do not have the time. And why is it that you can sail through your children's illnesses most of the time without getting anything?? I really don't get it, here we are trying to get our house finished so that we can move in and I am getting the full body ache, along with yucky tummy, with a teaspoon of the blahs. Oh and did I mention that it is the two week long stretch of spring break, oh let the good times roll. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-5198303256594184771?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/5198303256594184771/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/03/flu-bugs.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/5198303256594184771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/5198303256594184771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/03/flu-bugs.html' title='Flu Bugs'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-7371365119679441372</id><published>2011-03-05T23:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-06T00:01:42.095-08:00</updated><title type='text'>One month ago...</title><content type='html'>Almost two years ago to the day, we put up our house in Burnaby and had an inpromtu night of me emailing the girls and asking if they all wanted to come over for a glass of wine. And on this very special night they all showed up and we sat on my green couch and chatted, all feeling a bit sad that soon I would be moving. But tonight even though I still feel sad about not being so close to my friends I had two families over for dinner and the women joined me on those same green couches and I had major deja vu. Thank you universe for bringing me two awesome woment to remind me of my past.&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-7371365119679441372?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/7371365119679441372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/03/one-month-ago.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/7371365119679441372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/7371365119679441372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/03/one-month-ago.html' title='One month ago...'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-5444774663982739749</id><published>2011-02-19T08:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-19T08:59:46.300-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The true value of good friends</title><content type='html'>Last night I had the honour of spending the evening with some great old friends and some great new friends. It was a group pulled together at the last minute and turned out to be a really nice night. We sat around and drank wine, not a lot but definatley enough and had some munchies and we just laughed alot. It was great! So if you have an opportunity to grab a few gals and have an inpromtu wine and munch evening, do it!!&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-5444774663982739749?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/5444774663982739749/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/02/true-value-of-good-friends.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/5444774663982739749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/5444774663982739749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/02/true-value-of-good-friends.html' title='The true value of good friends'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-8996908380391680207</id><published>2011-02-07T14:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-07T14:45:23.601-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Are we there yet???</title><content type='html'>So after all of these years of having to deal with groups of women, whether it be at school, or dance, etc, don't we think we have had enough of the women who talk about you behind your back, or ridicule you for the way you dress or what you drive?? I would think at this age that we have all outgrown that, but it is so not the case, and I admit to being somewhat guilty although I try not to, sometimes I get in that headspace as well. My new years resolution is to not do that to others, because recently I had it done to me, and it took me right back to grade school, not a nice feeling especially when I thought this person was a friend. So I will be making more of an effort and to also go one step further and teach my children to not to it, as it is hurtful and really a waste of everyones time. If we all did this together what a great world this would be.&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-8996908380391680207?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/8996908380391680207/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/02/are-we-there-yet.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/8996908380391680207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/8996908380391680207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/02/are-we-there-yet.html' title='Are we there yet???'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-2966620509539931455</id><published>2011-02-06T11:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-06T11:53:32.066-08:00</updated><title type='text'>super bowl</title><content type='html'>Why is it that men require a certain menu of culinary delight for Super Bowl? What is with the Chile, hot dogs and beer, is it the amount of gas produced for them to have "who can pass the most obnoxious wind" contests? Is it for our benefit, "look honey what you made for me and I can make it do a trick"? Seriously and what is wrong with us women who stick around and put up with this testosterone display? I think next year I will make a nice healthy, bean free salad and go to a spa. Good luck ladies, M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-2966620509539931455?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/2966620509539931455/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/02/super-bowl.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/2966620509539931455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/2966620509539931455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/02/super-bowl.html' title='super bowl'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-8916410669105468094</id><published>2011-02-01T08:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-01T19:36:45.926-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Big smoke</title><content type='html'>So I was in Vancouver this weekend and even though it is my home town, I feel so detached from it now. I mean it has only been a year and a half since I moved but it is so different. I had to do sales calls all over heck and back and the driving was so stressful. Although I love visiting my friends and family it is just not the place I want to live when I am raising little ones. It is amazing how a new place changes your perspective. Now if I could only get my whole family to move over...&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-8916410669105468094?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/8916410669105468094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/02/big-smoke.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/8916410669105468094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/8916410669105468094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/02/big-smoke.html' title='Big smoke'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-82785542028414958</id><published>2011-01-20T17:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-20T17:42:02.872-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Losing it</title><content type='html'>Have you ever had your significant other lose something and go for weeks on end talking about it? It is like everyday there is the question, "so you really don't know where my &gt;&gt;&gt;&gt; is?" What drives me bonkers is that I honestly don't it is not like I hid the damn thing and want to go through the constant questioning period everyday. My hubby lost his wedding ring and after several weeks of questioning I finally did the nasty and opened the vaccum bag to go in the gruesome search of the ring. No dice!! So I started searching in the bedroom, and eventually went back to where it is normally kept to look that "one last time", since I knew he had already looked twice there, so for sure it wouldn't be there right?? Wrong!! That is where it was. Oh my god!! And when I finally had the opportunity to show him, it is like oh really, that's weird. I will tell you there are other words to describe what that is!!&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-82785542028414958?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/82785542028414958/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/01/losing-it.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/82785542028414958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/82785542028414958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/01/losing-it.html' title='Losing it'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-123418792521378772</id><published>2011-01-17T11:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-17T11:52:29.117-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Girls are b**&amp;^* (mean)</title><content type='html'>Do you remember as a little girl, school being so hard? I remember two girls playing really well together but bring in the third and we are dealing with hens in a henhouse scenario. My poor daughter, who is lovely and outgoing is being a bit squashed right now by her "best friends" and it is hard to watch. I have stood back since xmas break and let it play out but it is turning into sleepless nights now and I feel that I must get involved not to mention my overwelming memories of being through the same thing. Any advice before I turn into the mom from hell??&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-123418792521378772?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/123418792521378772/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/01/girls-are-b-mean.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/123418792521378772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/123418792521378772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/01/girls-are-b-mean.html' title='Girls are b**&amp;^* (mean)'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-168798497528170813</id><published>2011-01-12T15:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-12T15:10:05.458-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Technologically Advanced</title><content type='html'>How fun is it that I spent 4 hours joining the world of twittering!! I still do not know what twittering is but I am doing it!! I have to say though the networking possibilities are endless with facebook and twitter. So I implore you all to join me in one of these outlets, or on my blog and lets have a discussion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-168798497528170813?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/168798497528170813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/01/technologically-advanced.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/168798497528170813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/168798497528170813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/01/technologically-advanced.html' title='Technologically Advanced'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-6959014859964422965</id><published>2011-01-06T16:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-06T17:07:04.028-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Rats! Really?</title><content type='html'>So I know that mice and rats are normal in any place where people live and leave food scrap, blah, blah, blah, but when one decides to park itself right at your glass front door, it is enough to send oneself in to a state of paralysis. Then for me to carefully plan out its demise by buying a trap that I will entice it with peanut butter and it will come into my trap and have its stupid little head bonked and then I have to get rid of it. Is there no better way to deal with these. I should totally start a rat business...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-6959014859964422965?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/6959014859964422965/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/01/rats-really.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/6959014859964422965'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/6959014859964422965'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/01/rats-really.html' title='Rats! Really?'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-2813596774571678100</id><published>2011-01-05T14:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-05T14:31:40.830-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Out of the comfort zone</title><content type='html'>Usually I work out at home or outside (running, power walking etc.), but today I went to what I thought was a spin class, WRONG!! It was actually Boot Camp with Spin, OMG!! I thought I was pretty fit, given the years I have excercised like a possessed person, but today I was taught that there are more muscles that I have yet to beat up. It also was good for me to get out of my comfort zone and meet new people and try something new. It is hard to do at first but once you do you feel great. &lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-2813596774571678100?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/2813596774571678100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/01/out-of-comfort-zone.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/2813596774571678100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/2813596774571678100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/01/out-of-comfort-zone.html' title='Out of the comfort zone'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-4990782469237370809</id><published>2011-01-02T19:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-02T19:51:55.416-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Swearing</title><content type='html'>So ever since Molly was in for her last hospital stay, we had a thing called "hospital swear words" I let her say "stupid" or "dumb", when she had to have another needle or yucky procedure. You know the saying " what happens in the hopsital, stays at the hospital". The problem is that when she got home she shared her new found hobby with her 4 year old brother, who since then has taken to swearing on a regular basis when things don't go his way, which as you know can be often at this age. I sometimes hear him behind me saying "stupid, dumb, stupid" or "jerk guy", so cute, but not good. How do you deal with this? Any suggestions.&lt;br /&gt;Michele&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-4990782469237370809?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/4990782469237370809/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/01/swearing.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/4990782469237370809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/4990782469237370809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2011/01/swearing.html' title='Swearing'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-2702287664925689660</id><published>2010-12-30T17:35:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-30T17:37:44.534-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Merry Christmas</title><content type='html'>Merry Christmas to you all! I want to take a minute to thank you all for being supportive this year. I really have enjoyed my new adventure and it is because of you that chat with me that make it worth it. I am hoping to add some new and exciting stuff this coming year and I hope you will all join me for the ride. Again if anyone has any ideas of how to enhance this site, please let me know, I would love the ideas.&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-2702287664925689660?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/2702287664925689660/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/12/merry-christmas.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/2702287664925689660'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/2702287664925689660'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/12/merry-christmas.html' title='Merry Christmas'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-9168633004736813018</id><published>2010-12-07T07:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-07T07:26:39.424-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Too much worry.</title><content type='html'>Ever since my daughter had pneumonia, and then this last time in October, I worry like crazy as soon as she is sniffly. It is so bad for me but more so for her, the poor thing gets attacked by my worrisome eyes penetrating through her, it is awful. And then I go out and buy every probiotic, vitamin, ginseng, whatever pills and make her shove them down her little throat. I wish I could not be this way does anyone have any rationale solutions?&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-9168633004736813018?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/9168633004736813018/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/12/too-much-worry.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/9168633004736813018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/9168633004736813018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/12/too-much-worry.html' title='Too much worry.'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-115214439302344256</id><published>2010-11-27T17:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-27T17:12:03.540-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Falling Snow</title><content type='html'>I love snow, for one day!&lt;br /&gt;After day one, I hate snow!&lt;br /&gt;It looks pretty and the kids love it. There is a sense of coziness and family time, and after that it is the only thing keeping me from driving my car. Now this year for some reason, the snow was destined to making sure that I fell on my ass, not once but twice. Both times I landed on the same cheek and the same right wrist. Not happy. My car has gotten stuck and we had to walk in freezing rain for about 10 minutes. How fun is that, whiny kids, four bags of groceries, up a hill, with a sore wrist and ass. Good times. Bring on the sun.&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-115214439302344256?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/115214439302344256/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/11/falling-snow.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/115214439302344256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/115214439302344256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/11/falling-snow.html' title='Falling Snow'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-2577662369619493691</id><published>2010-11-23T16:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-23T16:35:18.096-08:00</updated><title type='text'>the story that never ends...</title><content type='html'>Have you ever noticed that your childrens stories are endless sometimes? My daughter starts off with "mommy, today at school, my teacher gave us trouble for sledding down the hill where the...you know where the ummhhh...you know where the big rock is on the side of the building?? You know what I mean right mom?? Anyway there, so my friends were there, well not my friends, they are so and so's friends but now they are my friends but only because we are in choir together... did I tell you that I am in choir mom? Mom, why are you laughing?? Whatever, anyway so my teacher gave us trouble for sledding and then you know that boy with the brown hair, who's brother is in my cousin's class.. you know the one who's teacher is from the land of make belive fairies?? &lt;br /&gt;Seriously can anyone relate??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-2577662369619493691?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/2577662369619493691/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/11/story-that-never-ends.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/2577662369619493691'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/2577662369619493691'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/11/story-that-never-ends.html' title='the story that never ends...'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-4935735098149656395</id><published>2010-11-18T16:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-18T16:40:49.257-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Good Times</title><content type='html'>So today started with me yelling at my whole family!! No one cleans up, no one listens, and everyone takes advantage of me. I think they thought that I was freaking crazy. Then I go outside and turn on the car which is frozen, so I kept it on and went back inside for a family meeting, since I didn't want anyone in my home thinking god forbid that mommy was losing it. I go outside 5 minutes later expecting a nice warm car and of course no the radiator or something like that is gone and I cannot go anywhere. My white knight arrives in his slippers and plays around and says it is all good. So I take off and then return a bit later to inform him that the car has a strange light on, he says just watch it. As I drive down the hill the car starts to overheat, goes in the red and explodes. No just kidding it didn't explode but it could have!! Anyway my car is now sitting on blocks while my hubbie and his dad try to figure it out. Let me just say that I tried 4-5 times, unsuccessfully to suggest we take it to, (wait for it) a mechanic. I will fill you in soon on the outcome.&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-4935735098149656395?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/4935735098149656395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/11/good-times.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/4935735098149656395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/4935735098149656395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/11/good-times.html' title='Good Times'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-4492113251453519906</id><published>2010-11-15T19:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-15T19:40:58.050-08:00</updated><title type='text'>sexy talk</title><content type='html'>Okay so when is it to early to chat to your kids about sex and how far do you go with the talk? What is that perfect age for boys and girls? Is it a different age depending on gender? How much do they need to know? Is it better for them to think for a little while longer that they were made from pixie fairies, flying around my head and poof, there they were!! Well not quite that magical but mine are still pretty naive about the whole thing. Anyone got any ideas??&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-4492113251453519906?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/4492113251453519906/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/11/sexy-talk.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/4492113251453519906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/4492113251453519906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/11/sexy-talk.html' title='sexy talk'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-8047318581670353224</id><published>2010-11-07T06:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-07T08:29:45.854-08:00</updated><title type='text'>moms who stand alone</title><content type='html'>Have you ever noticed the moms that stand alone at soccer, ballet, playgroup? Why doesn't anyone go over and chat with them. While some of us are hunkered down in groups chatting about fashion, kids, husbands, etc, these others stand alone. I find personally that it is difficult to walk over and introduce myself to someone new, I am just to shy, but I have been doing it more and more, and I think we should all make that extra effort, to make someone else feel a little more included.&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-8047318581670353224?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/8047318581670353224/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/11/moms-who-stand-alone.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/8047318581670353224'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/8047318581670353224'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/11/moms-who-stand-alone.html' title='moms who stand alone'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-357860511173366623</id><published>2010-11-01T19:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-01T19:56:01.299-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pnuemonia again!!</title><content type='html'>Sorry again, I was out of commission while I was again in the hospital with Molly, this time for 3 nights, does anyone else out there have a child who constantly gets bronchial issues? I am off to see an allergist tomorrow, who hopefully can get to the bottom of this, she is otherwise healthy, but twice in one year*^*^* Now you know why I drink!!&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-357860511173366623?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/357860511173366623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/11/pnuemonia-again.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/357860511173366623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/357860511173366623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/11/pnuemonia-again.html' title='Pnuemonia again!!'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-2964232267775719897</id><published>2010-10-24T09:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-24T09:41:59.262-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Complaints!!</title><content type='html'>You know how you do your very best every day to provide a clean, organized, healthy, stable, happy, friggin perfect home for your family? And then you get the complaints, why are we out of bread? Did you know we are out of sugar? Or my favourite, "Do you know where my watchamachalit it?" How the f*&amp;^*&amp;%&amp;* am I supposed to know what that is? But somehow we always do, right? The thing is, is that if the tables were turned it would drive them nuts. There is an expectation that we know and do everything. Did we as a society set that precedence? Not sure. What I do know is that we are here now, now what do we do? &lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-2964232267775719897?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/2964232267775719897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/10/complaints.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/2964232267775719897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/2964232267775719897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/10/complaints.html' title='Complaints!!'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-305906831315386033</id><published>2010-10-17T16:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-17T16:17:27.868-07:00</updated><title type='text'>and then they surprise you...</title><content type='html'>So I am at that point as I mentioned where I am ready to run away from the family, they are driving me bananas, like one step away from the designer straight jacket. I go a whole day wondering what I am doing wrong with these kids and then they surprise you one morning. Daddy has gone hunting but made me coffee before he leaves and it is suddenly quiet in the house, I very slowly reach for my book that I so want to dive into and start reading. Now this is usually the moment that I hear "mommmee...", but no I get to read for 1/2 hour and drink coffee at the same time, I feel as if I am in a dream. Then they both wake up but today instead of yelling at me they get up, get dressed, make their beds and their own breakfast, and I queen for a day stay in bed and continue my little moment until 9:00am. So nice, such a surprise.&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-305906831315386033?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/305906831315386033/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/10/and-then-they-surprise-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/305906831315386033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/305906831315386033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/10/and-then-they-surprise-you.html' title='and then they surprise you...'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-6344204818033739826</id><published>2010-10-15T18:57:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-15T18:59:42.627-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rotten Mothers</title><content type='html'>Is it possible to be the most rotten mother on the planet? Every night pretty much, I feel as if I have not only been defeated by my two children, who when you add up their ages equals 10 years old, which means I am being taken out daily by a ten year old, pretty sad, right? Is there any other moms out there who go to bed thinking they are the worst mothers on the planet, that they have done nothing but yell and sign, and swear (quietly of course), and drink sometimes excessively? Oh my god I feel like running away right now!! I love them more than anything but holy CRAP!!&lt;br /&gt;m&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-6344204818033739826?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/6344204818033739826/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/10/rotten-mothers.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/6344204818033739826'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/6344204818033739826'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/10/rotten-mothers.html' title='Rotten Mothers'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-5989258846323106986</id><published>2010-10-08T17:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-08T17:12:29.636-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Empty threats</title><content type='html'>Okay so at what point do you truly spank your children? After years of threatening it for terrible behaviour I am ready to follow through, now of course I don't want to but what else do you do. The problem I am having is most of the time my kids play really well together but lately they are fighting and whining alot when they are together, today I was so mad I swore, not just 'friggin', but the real macoy!! Tell me if you have any great ideas on what to threaten them with or not at all?? Help??&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-5989258846323106986?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/5989258846323106986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/10/empty-threats.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/5989258846323106986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/5989258846323106986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/10/empty-threats.html' title='Empty threats'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-9088888925434651469</id><published>2010-10-02T21:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-02T21:18:20.227-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Seperation Anxiety</title><content type='html'>My son has been fine with being away from me for some time now, and all of the sudden he is clinging to my leg again, and he is 37, just kidding he is 4, but so not the point, why all the sudden is he doing this? There are some people that he doesn't mind going with and others that send him in to fits of tears and nausea, and those people are family. What I end up doing is just leaving him and eventually he stops after I leave, when I pick him up I ask him how it went and he says great. But then the very next time it is CRAZY again. Any ideas on how not to get angry with the little turd??&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-9088888925434651469?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/9088888925434651469/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/10/seperation-anxiety.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/9088888925434651469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/9088888925434651469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/10/seperation-anxiety.html' title='Seperation Anxiety'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-5141846330554219403</id><published>2010-09-27T16:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-27T16:25:26.643-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Spinny</title><content type='html'>Has anyone ever experienced Vertigo before either following a cold/flu or it just appears? Any things you can do to rectify it? I mean come on I am clearly spinny already as all my friends and family have not failed to mention a few times!!&lt;br /&gt;Let me know, love the feedback&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-5141846330554219403?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/5141846330554219403/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/09/spinny.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/5141846330554219403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/5141846330554219403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/09/spinny.html' title='Spinny'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-6938913377355731851</id><published>2010-09-21T20:21:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-21T20:24:20.887-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Home at last..</title><content type='html'>Well my hubby came home at last. It seems that women have a habit of romanticizing the homecoming of their partner. I had great plans of getting all dressed up sexy, candles lit, wine open, etc... wrong number, what he saw when he came in was me curled in a blankey with a fever and a runny nose. Good times. The next night I ravished him but that is another story, ha, ha. So that is it all that build up, two weeks have passed and the only thing changed is I have shaved my legs and had some new stories to tell. It is always hard to decipher wether or not it is easier or harder when they are not home, not sure, still trying to answer that one??&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-6938913377355731851?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/6938913377355731851/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/09/home-at-last.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/6938913377355731851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/6938913377355731851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/09/home-at-last.html' title='Home at last..'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-6253802946474310033</id><published>2010-09-15T07:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-15T07:28:41.406-07:00</updated><title type='text'>11 Days on my own</title><content type='html'>Well girls, all I know is even when my husband drives me freaking crazy and I think "oh I would be so much better on my own!", it is in those times that I should look back at the last 11 days and realize that being a single mom would indeed suck. He has been hunting way far away for 11 days and I have been doing well, but at night when I am alone and my little hellions are deep in slumber I miss him. I don't enjoy dinnertime at all, without him, I am not as creative in my meals and as much as my conversations with my kids are truly special, I miss him. Anyway I guess next time you feel like you could do with some indefinate alone time, think about him not being around, and it may change your mind. M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-6253802946474310033?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/6253802946474310033/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/09/11-days-on-my-own.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/6253802946474310033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/6253802946474310033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/09/11-days-on-my-own.html' title='11 Days on my own'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-2360871475777993196</id><published>2010-09-10T20:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-10T20:36:32.512-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Their interests are changing</title><content type='html'>God I thought and still think that I am so lucky to have had a boy and a girl that are only two years apart and so healthy. Then my eldest (girl) started grade 1 and my little guy is only 4 that is when you start to see big differences. TV shows, totally different, one wants Hannah (yuck) and the other is still watching Diego, which apparently has careened right off my daughters COOLMETER. So the fight is on!! Then when it is the end of the day and they are all warm and cuddly in bed, and it is that great time where you gather to read a story, WRONG NUMBER, again the differences surface and I am evil for having suggested a book that doesn't appeal to one or the other. How do you win? Should I just start reading them freaking Harlequin Romances and bore them to sleep. So frusturating at the end of a day. So goes the battle...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-2360871475777993196?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/2360871475777993196/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/09/their-interests-are-changing.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/2360871475777993196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/2360871475777993196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/09/their-interests-are-changing.html' title='Their interests are changing'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-6405603640000055001</id><published>2010-09-06T20:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-06T20:47:47.266-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Back to school!</title><content type='html'>You can hear a sigh of a relief being whispered by every mother on the planet tonight. As much as we love our children it is always a very long summer and at the end when there is like two weeks left of August and the bees are stinging, the mosquitos are buzzing in your ear and your child says yet again, "Im bored", you have to be excited about labour day weekend drawing near. Anyway here we are girls first day of school. Yippee. &lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-6405603640000055001?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/6405603640000055001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/09/back-to-school.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/6405603640000055001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/6405603640000055001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/09/back-to-school.html' title='Back to school!'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-2513018979656152064</id><published>2010-09-02T20:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-02T20:23:55.362-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Moving</title><content type='html'>Okay so we have successfully moved, however Telus, has issues (I use the word issues, lightly) with hooking up internet service properly, on time and at all. It took four extra days so you will have to excuse me from not posting a blog. So I am back in service at least until Telus has more "issues". Anyway this was the best move I have experienced with my better half, there was no fighting, no breakage (of belongings or the marriage) and we did it pretty much just the two of us and our two lovely children. I was impressed. So now we are in a temporary home for a couple of months only to turn around and do it all again into our new house when it is complete. So there you go, I survived another day and another move, third time in exactly one year. Go Me!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-2513018979656152064?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/2513018979656152064/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/09/moving.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/2513018979656152064'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/2513018979656152064'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/09/moving.html' title='Moving'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-5401852694227388029</id><published>2010-08-24T19:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-24T19:49:39.997-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Good Lessons</title><content type='html'>A good lesson I have learned recently is how important it is to recognize that your kids are the most important thing to us but they are their own individuals and should be treated with respect. We may have bore them, and we should instill in them good values, morals, steer them in the right decision but ultimatley it is up to them to make decisions for themselves and no matter how hard it is to watch them take trips and take modelling courses as opposed to accounting we have to let them lead the life they are meant to lead for them. I know when it comes time to big choices being made I will have to be reminded of these thoughts, but I will try to follow through, as should we all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-5401852694227388029?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/5401852694227388029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/08/good-lessons.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/5401852694227388029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/5401852694227388029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/08/good-lessons.html' title='Good Lessons'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-3656383346045002351</id><published>2010-08-18T21:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-18T21:06:39.836-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Making Changes</title><content type='html'>So I have been on Salt Spring for one year, feels like yesterday. I still have this tremendous guilt in regards to leaving my parents. They are so great, my best friends and they were so hurt when I left and it has taken a long time to get back on the right page. Does it ever get better? I mean I made this decision with my husband for our family, but for as long as I have been on this planet I made decisions with my mom and dad, and all of the sudden I have gone against what they have always known and made this huge change. I can only imagine looking forward into my kids lives how that might feel. So challenging to move forward and take everyone with you. &lt;br /&gt;Talk to you all later, M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-3656383346045002351?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/3656383346045002351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/08/making-changes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/3656383346045002351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/3656383346045002351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/08/making-changes.html' title='Making Changes'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-4420400043384987148</id><published>2010-08-16T20:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-16T20:51:03.832-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Any new ideas out there?</title><content type='html'>Hey ladies, just wondering if you have any new ideas you would like me to expand on, on the site. Anything that you would like to see more of in terms of subjects or useful information?? I would love your feedback and your involvement on the website. Let me know your ideas...&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-4420400043384987148?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/4420400043384987148/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/08/any-new-ideas-out-there.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/4420400043384987148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/4420400043384987148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/08/any-new-ideas-out-there.html' title='Any new ideas out there?'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-9098051817408599802</id><published>2010-08-11T19:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-11T19:32:59.625-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't fence me in</title><content type='html'>Isn't it interesting how people want to put us all in neat, organized boxes? I had a friend who I have not seen in three years ask me in quite an angry tone, why I was living on Salt Spring Island? What business did I have outside of the city? Are you kidding me? This person knows nothing of what our family has been through and how were got to where we are. But people do this everyday, they think based on what little information we share with them that they 'KNOW YOU'. Crazy hey! I was shocked by that one and that people assume that they know all about you, especially enough to put you in one singular box. Good lesson in humanity though, I won't be making that mistake anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-9098051817408599802?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/9098051817408599802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/08/dont-fence-me-in.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/9098051817408599802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/9098051817408599802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/08/dont-fence-me-in.html' title='Don&apos;t fence me in'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-6131204398941226455</id><published>2010-08-09T20:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-09T20:47:57.090-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fighting Siblings</title><content type='html'>Oh my god! The delightful sound of my sweet children fighting, is driving me nuts! One minute they are the best of friends and then they are at it fighting, and not punching or kicking it is just bickering, and then it is "Mom, she told me I am a poopy, stinky brain!", and then of course the intelligent comeback from the other super awesome child, "he said it first". I get so sick of it, that I have now said I don't care, work it out. One would think this would help, but not so much. Any great ideas on how to handle this??&lt;br /&gt;I am so going to open wine now...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-6131204398941226455?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/6131204398941226455/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/08/fighting-siblings.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/6131204398941226455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/6131204398941226455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/08/fighting-siblings.html' title='Fighting Siblings'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-2833886669702125701</id><published>2010-08-04T20:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-04T20:34:37.624-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Still peeing in the bed?</title><content type='html'>My daughter is six and is still wearing a pull up because she is still wet in the the morning. What do I do? Should I just keep her in undies and let her have accidents? Do I wake her up at 3:00am and hope I didn't miss the pee?? Any thoughts. &lt;br /&gt;Michele&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-2833886669702125701?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/2833886669702125701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/08/still-peeing-in-bed.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/2833886669702125701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/2833886669702125701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/08/still-peeing-in-bed.html' title='Still peeing in the bed?'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-5208496878483808328</id><published>2010-07-31T08:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-31T08:05:28.972-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Leaving town</title><content type='html'>Hey their fellow chicks, I am taking my two babies after work today and leaving town, I will be back on Tuesday and will blog then. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take care, have a great long weekend.&lt;br /&gt;Michele&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-5208496878483808328?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/5208496878483808328/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/07/leaving-town_31.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/5208496878483808328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/5208496878483808328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/07/leaving-town_31.html' title='Leaving town'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-4019175561749573682</id><published>2010-07-30T08:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-30T08:15:31.702-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life is busy..</title><content type='html'>So I spent months trying to figure out how to add income to our family, it was not that we were in dire straights but I like the feeling of buying a pair of jeans and knowing that the money was earned by me. Stupid I know but it is just how I feel. It is so not my husbands fault but when they say "do you need cash", that just makes me uncomfortable, maybe it is years of making my own money, don't know. Anyway so now I am working at the winery and making that so desired cash, and loving the job, but I am so tired. I get up in the morning, fit in the exercise, make breakfast for everyone, make a lunch for everyone and prep dinner that is like 9 hours away!! This is tiring, I am sure alot of you out there know what I mean. To top it all off it still is assumed by the family that mommy just keeps on ticking, fitting in cleaning, laundry, and when do you sit down and do lego and colouring. There is just not enough hours in a day. Having said all that my only advice to those who crave the cash to be earned by them, make it a three day work week, so much more manageable.&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-4019175561749573682?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/4019175561749573682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/07/life-is-busy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/4019175561749573682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/4019175561749573682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/07/life-is-busy.html' title='Life is busy..'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-2509342167535254455</id><published>2010-07-25T15:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-25T16:02:59.432-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Forum</title><content type='html'>Hey there, I wanted to let you all know that there will be a forum added to the site in the next few days so that you all can have conversations with eachother as well and not just listen to me blither on all the time. I will be also adding a new page called 'success stories' where I will be featuring a successful, lighthearted story once a month. If you have any ideas that you would like to see me implement, please let me know, I need all the help I can get.&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-2509342167535254455?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/2509342167535254455/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/07/forum.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/2509342167535254455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/2509342167535254455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/07/forum.html' title='Forum'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-5733513621039933462</id><published>2010-07-22T21:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-22T21:56:06.149-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Scotch fixes all wounds...</title><content type='html'>So yesterday I had to with my family, bury my Nonna. Very tough day, I gave a Eulogy with my cousin and we both made it through without crying. Thinking I was so tough I carried on through the day to the mosoleum where we Italians put our relatives when they pass (so not fun), I had a bit of a moment there when we had to say our final goodbyes. Then on to the reception, no problem there. Then my brother asked me on the way out to the ferry back home if I wanted to make a stop and I said yes to the beer and wine for a bottle of scotch. I get on the ferry with my scotch and go to take a paper cup to begin my drunken ferry ride only to be told by some stinky lady that I have to buy something. I said to her I did I bought a beverage!! I carried on up to the private lounge where you pay $12.00 and you can have all the almonds you want and read the latest trash mags for free. There I settled down with my brown paper bag and cup and proceeded to drink myself into a quiet happy place. When I boarded ferry number 2 I ended up crying like a little baby, who had lost its mother. I realized that it was my time alone to grieve and although I made some fellow passengers move to another location, it was good for me to feel it, finally. Talk to you all tomorrow. M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-5733513621039933462?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/5733513621039933462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/07/scotch-fixes-all-wounds.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/5733513621039933462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/5733513621039933462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/07/scotch-fixes-all-wounds.html' title='Scotch fixes all wounds...'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-7902395044953686100</id><published>2010-07-20T07:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-25T19:45:34.375-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chickens'/><title type='text'>Chicken casualties</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  color: rgb(47, 47, 47); line-height: 19px; font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;by Christiana Peterson&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  color: rgb(47, 47, 47); line-height: 19px; font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  color: rgb(47, 47, 47); line-height: 19px; font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;My husband and I moved a year ago to a Mennonite farming community in rural Illinois. It was a decision we made fairly quickly but one that we'd been thinking about for a while. He was working at a desk job in Washington DC and I was a lonely new mother. We were both longing for community and wanting a different way of life for our daughter and ourselves.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  color: rgb(47, 47, 47); line-height: 19px; font-family:Verdana, Arial, Georgia, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Six months into our new life in Illinois, I found myself on the guilty end of a flock of nine dead chickens.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;It wasn’t intentional and after it happened I asked God for forgiveness for killing them so inhumanely.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; white-space: pre; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; white-space: pre; "&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Before we moved, I’d never held a chicken, never caught one and certainly never killed one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;But somehow by the end of that September day, there were seventeen live chickens and nine dead ones, three of which were hanging from a tree in our backyard ready to be skinned.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;I grew up in big city, Texas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;I’m not too girly but I’m not a naturally outdoorsy, get-your-hands-dirty kind of girl either.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;I like being at home much of the time but I’m not averse to working hard in the garden in the cool part of the day a few times a week.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;When we moved to Illinois, I didn’t know that potatoes grew under the soil and had to be dug up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;I mean, I think I learned that a long time ago but it’s not something I ever thought about before.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;You get the picture.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;So imagine my transformation in less than half a year.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;I was helping a friend Erin (who incidentally grew up on a farm and was eight months pregnant at the time of the chicken disaster) take care of her chickens and she called me up and asks if I wanted some of my own.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;I enthusiastically, if a bit naievely, agreed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;“In order to get our chickens,” Erin said, “we’ll have to catch them.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;So an inexperienced city girl and a pregnant woman drove 20 or so miles to another farm to get our chickens.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;We had orders from other people too so our total number of chickens was to be twenty-six.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;I had no idea what to expect.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;When we drove up, Erin groaned a little at the small coop in which the chickens were kept.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;She was expecting to have more room to catch them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;The coop was about waist high, and about four feet by seven feet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Even though I was completely baffled by my task, I was not going to let pregnant Erin crouch down in there and do the job.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;It was my task.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;“What do I do?” I asked climbing into the coop.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;“Grab them by their feet and turn them upside down.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;It makes the blood rush to their heads and they go limp.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;“Okay, here goes…”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;I crouched down into a squatting position—the only way I could get to them without bumping my head on the roof of the coop—and attacked.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;The first go sent wings slapping at my face in rage and mockery.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Chickens are fast.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;But they are not that smart and I learned how to grab them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;If you can get one foot, then you’ve got them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;I grabbed chicken after chicken while Erin tied their feet together and put them three at a time into large paper bags.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;It got to be kind of fun once I had a rhythm.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;And I basked in the glow of Erin’s praise.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;She said she was impressed!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;After about half an hour we were on our way back home, the twenty-six (two roosters and twenty-four hens) chickens tucked into their bags in the back of the truck.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;We were energized.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;We pulled up to our farm and began to&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; unload the bags of chickens into a wheelbarrow to take them back to our coop.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Erin had watched another expert farm woman bag roosters in the same manner as we had bagged our chickens.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;So she had every reason to be confident that all would be okay.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;But something was wrong.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Some of the chickens weren’t moving.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;We rushed the wheelbarrow back to the coop yelling “Chicken 911!” for our own amusement, even though we were a little distressed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; And w&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;e released the chickens bag by bag.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;At the bottom of each bag, crushed and suffocated by its friends, was a dead chicken.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Oh, how sad and sorry we were at these lifeless gems, their eyeballs white and their feathers sweaty and still warm!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;The poor things had pooped themselves in fear. There were a few that seemed lifeless but were slowly revived with some water.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;But in the end w&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;e had killed nine chickens…suffocated to death.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;We truly felt horrible.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;So, it was time to decide what to do with the dead chickens.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Six of them were to be butchered anyway by some friends.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;But three, well, they were now OUR dead chickens and we had to take care of them before rigor mortis set in.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;After dinner, Erin came to our backyard in the dark and we hung the chickens on a tree limb.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;She taught me how to skin them and cut off their heads.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Then, we went inside and disemboweled them on our kitchen cabinet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;I felt oddly removed from the whole thing and was only truly bothered by the blood spurting out of the severed neck and the first touch of the intestines inside.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Some of it was even a little fascinating like the forming eggs inside their bellies that could still be eaten.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;There were even two very large soft-shell eggs inside that—after washing—would be ready to eat.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;In our freezer sat two grass-fed, fresh and local chickens ready to be boiled and eaten.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  color: rgb(47, 47, 47); line-height: 19px; font-family:Verdana, Arial, Georgia, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:12px;"&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-7902395044953686100?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/7902395044953686100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/07/chicken-casualties.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/7902395044953686100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/7902395044953686100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/07/chicken-casualties.html' title='Chicken casualties'/><author><name>Christiana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02926455734704473405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-05qL0ruuN88/TwC2AWBmZbI/AAAAAAAABBc/0-Ao_LOQxC4/s220/IMG_2600.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-5649720786488523168</id><published>2010-07-17T20:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-17T21:11:16.076-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Signing off for a few days...</title><content type='html'>Hey everyone, my Nonna has passed and so I will not be blogging for a few days. I will be heading off to Vancouver for her service and will catch up after that. M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-5649720786488523168?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/5649720786488523168/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/07/signing-off-for-few-days.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/5649720786488523168'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/5649720786488523168'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/07/signing-off-for-few-days.html' title='Signing off for a few days...'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-6544468247811636879</id><published>2010-07-13T19:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-13T19:50:26.766-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How do you talk to your wee ones about death??</title><content type='html'>Okay so my family have crucified me and then raked me over the coals when I told them that I still have not told my 4 and 6 year old that there is such a thing as death. I mean they know about animals dying because on SSI they see them on the side of the road, but not in regards to people. And now my Nonna (grandmother in Italian) is passing away and I think I will have to tell them both. How do you do it?? They are not close to my Nonna so I thought it would be a good person to use as an example because there is not such an attachment. My plan is to start by saying that there is a place that people go when they die called heaven, blah, blah blah. But I mean how stupid does that sound to you? Do we really think that kids buy this story? If anyone has any helpful hints that would be great. And while you are at it how about some helpful suggestions on explaining where the other three grandparents on mine and my husbands side went^*^*^?? Oh life is so fun...&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-6544468247811636879?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/6544468247811636879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/07/how-do-you-talk-to-your-wee-ones-about.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/6544468247811636879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/6544468247811636879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/07/how-do-you-talk-to-your-wee-ones-about.html' title='How do you talk to your wee ones about death??'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-6120523476133428318</id><published>2010-07-10T20:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-10T20:48:49.218-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Meeting new friends</title><content type='html'>So I was at a wedding this weekend and I met a bunch of really great people. I was feeling a bit apprehensive because we had been seated at the table beside our family and we were at a table with people I didn't know. Just shows you though you introduce yourself and it opens up all sorts of conversations and the potential to meet great new friends. We were seated with a couple who live on Salt Spring and a lovely mommy from ladysmith who is also a teacher. The couple is heading off to a Mediteranean Cruise to get married and the lovely bride to be is also part owner of Salt Spring Air. Big kudos to her for being an inspiration for any woman wanting to be successfuly. These are people I would love to hang out with any time, so there you go sometimes going to a new table is a good idea, you never know what might happen.&lt;br /&gt;Michele&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-6120523476133428318?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/6120523476133428318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/07/meeting-new-friends.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/6120523476133428318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/6120523476133428318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/07/meeting-new-friends.html' title='Meeting new friends'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-4528878830138985787</id><published>2010-07-09T20:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-09T20:06:44.155-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Adopting a new routine</title><content type='html'>One thing I have noticed that is great for revitalizing your life is to adopt a new routine, so for example I have opted to power walking every morning at 6:00am, the first morning is not fun, you have to pull yourself out of your bed and put on shorts and a tshirt and get your body moving but once you are out there and breathing in fresh air, there is no one else on the road, it is great. I find that I feel so much more energy during the day and you feel proud of your early morning accomplishment. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This new routine doesn't have to be fitness related it could be that you are going to start attending a new group, treating yourself to coffee on the way to work, taking up a hobby, committing to reading a chapter of a book everyday, whatever it is it adds a bit more texture to your life and gives you something to talk about that is new and exciting. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good luck ladies, and I would love to hear what you are conquering next!!&lt;br /&gt;Michele&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-4528878830138985787?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/4528878830138985787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/07/adopting-new-routine.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/4528878830138985787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/4528878830138985787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/07/adopting-new-routine.html' title='Adopting a new routine'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-6894212654535665950</id><published>2010-07-08T20:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-08T20:55:11.729-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So hot...</title><content type='html'>Okay so there are probably those of you who love this weather... I am not one of them, if it gets over 25 degrees you might as well not even talk to me because I am for sure going to be bitchy!! And what is worse is I don't even want to drink alcohol in this weather!! My saving grace is the winery, when I am at work there the winestore is so nice and cool, so I love that and what a perk I am surrounded by great wine. Tonight we couldn't get to our house in Fulford because they were paving the road, never mind that they didn't send us a notice to let us know that they were going to be paving in the hotest part of the freaking day but also we tried to go up our road four times (well two were my husband by himself, but two with all of us), by then it was 6:30 and the kids were hot and hungry so we went to grandmas and ate there and of course opened a bottle of vino. What the heck right, you might as well enjoy it while it is here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy suntanning, M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-6894212654535665950?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/6894212654535665950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/07/so-hot.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/6894212654535665950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/6894212654535665950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/07/so-hot.html' title='So hot...'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-1743715487859940237</id><published>2010-07-05T20:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-05T20:32:15.355-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A two night break...</title><content type='html'>Oh my goodness what two nights can do for you where you can swear, eat, drink, exercise and open up to the women that are closest to you. I had such a great time, on the beach, there was six of us, my two aunts, my mom and two cousins, we drank ceasars, limencello martinis, alot of wine and good food, lots of long walks and a lot of catching up. You know when you can tell this group just about anything that you cannot divulge to anyone else. I was glad to come home but I was very sad to come home. Oh well another weekend next year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-1743715487859940237?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/1743715487859940237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/07/two-night-break.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/1743715487859940237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/1743715487859940237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/07/two-night-break.html' title='A two night break...'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-5899066040504295794</id><published>2010-07-01T21:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-01T21:43:30.980-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Leaving Town</title><content type='html'>Hey there as I may have mentioned I am leaving town for a few days with the women in my family so I will be incognito until Sunday. I promise to give a full report. Until then, Michele&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-5899066040504295794?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/5899066040504295794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/07/leaving-town.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/5899066040504295794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/5899066040504295794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/07/leaving-town.html' title='Leaving Town'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-731272385898142733</id><published>2010-06-30T22:35:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-30T22:35:37.491-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Meds</title><content type='html'>I feel that I would like to share a bit of insight, that may be of great concern for some people. I would say my whole life I have been concerned with the way I look and feel (mentally) and not because of what others think but what I think and feel. In my personal opinion it is important to exercise for so many reasons, health for the most part but also for the boost it gives your seratonin levels which help deal with the ups and downs of your life. Now without going into a bunch of detail, one of the reasons I moved here with my family was because my husband was very sick and still undiagnosed and that turned into a spiral effect for me that had me suffering from a severe case of anxiety and I ended up with all sorts of physical issues. I thank god went to the doctor when I realized that I could not handle it on my own and he put my on a very low dose antidepressent, and I am not someone who at that point thought I would ever go on them. The reason that I did was that I was not funtioning at a good enough capacity to be a good mother. So I combined this and a very mild exercise routine, I power walked 30-40 minutes a day and did a lot of yoga and pilates. Within 3 weeks I was feeling much better and increased my exercise up to light runs, and aerobic activity. Within three months I am weaning off the pills (every second day) and I am running 5 k 2 times a week, and more aerobic activity. My point is you are no good if you are digging into the ativan and freaking out for no reason. Sometimes you have to ask for help and accept it and although I don't believe in medication it does serve its purpose, espcially if it helps turn your life around. Remember life is short and it is only you who can decide what is best for you.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;By the way I look and feel amazing!!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Cheers,&lt;br /&gt;Michele&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-731272385898142733?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/731272385898142733/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/06/meds.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/731272385898142733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/731272385898142733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/06/meds.html' title='Meds'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-7907430892780657756</id><published>2010-06-29T20:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-29T21:02:29.125-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The end of kindie</title><content type='html'>Today marked the end of my little girls first year of school, Kindergarten. Oh my god, time flies, it was just yesterday that I was fitting her for her inside shoes and having that scary house visit from the teacher. Just yesterday that she said "mommy, what if I don't know anybody". Yesterday when she was only wearing pants that she has now switched into short skirts with socks, mismatched and pulled up to her knees. So we had a graduation dinner consisting of McCains Pizza (her choice) and cookies and cream ice cream cones, that she asked if we could eat them down on the dock in Fulford. It was a bittersweet ending to a very special year that I am almost sorry has already passed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-7907430892780657756?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/7907430892780657756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/06/end-of-kindie.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/7907430892780657756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/7907430892780657756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/06/end-of-kindie.html' title='The end of kindie'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-6057465011385061295</id><published>2010-06-28T22:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-28T22:05:53.163-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hanging outside drinking wine</title><content type='html'>Tonight was one of those nights that was perfect, you didn't want it to end, we quite by accident ended up going to dinner at my hubby's uncle's place. It was a birthday celebration for his grandson who is Chase's best bud. It was great, food, wine, cake and presents. The kids miraculously got along and the adults sat and hung out, it was so nice that we all lost track of time and realized that it was totally time to go home and put these galfers to bed. Anyway cheers to the kids tonight for entertaining themselves and letting parents be social.&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-6057465011385061295?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/6057465011385061295/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/06/hanging-outside-drinking-wine.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/6057465011385061295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/6057465011385061295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/06/hanging-outside-drinking-wine.html' title='Hanging outside drinking wine'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-4497658180937607488</id><published>2010-06-24T21:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-24T21:47:28.569-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Need a holiday from your family??</title><content type='html'>Okay I am at that point that we all get to where you snap at the slightest thing that your kids or your husband do, your feel that old familiar twitch in the corner of your eye, just twitching away for no reason, you walk around looking like you have some weird disease and one side of your face is all contorted, you calmly say to your friends "no I am fine, this just happens sometimes". This is when I know it is time for mommy to go away and not just to thrifty's, that is not a vacation! That is a chore! I am talking about 2-3 days away on your own, with a bottle of vodka and a beach chair. I know it sounds like the impossible, but I am on my way ladies, next Friday, now that all depends on the following:&lt;br /&gt;1. Do I have all three dinners made before hand for when I am gone.&lt;br /&gt;2. Is the laundry done?&lt;br /&gt;3. House clean? (why do we do this, when we know what it will look like upon our return)&lt;br /&gt;4. Did I clean all three beds? (Again, why?)&lt;br /&gt;5. Is the fridge full of alternatives in case number 1 falls through.&lt;br /&gt;6. Is everyone healthy? Should I go, what if someone gets a cold or the plague??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all know I will have this ready, so no more excuses next Friday morning I am off ladies, and I will be sure to report in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-4497658180937607488?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/4497658180937607488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/06/need-holiday-from-your-family.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/4497658180937607488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/4497658180937607488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/06/need-holiday-from-your-family.html' title='Need a holiday from your family??'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-776423566878239132</id><published>2010-06-21T22:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-21T22:11:43.344-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A step forward</title><content type='html'>Today was a great day, I spent the morning at the Strong Start program with Chase and it is always so nice to sit and talk to other moms about their lives. Then I came home and my hubby was running out the door to go start excavating our new property. I spent the afternoon with the kids, got in my workout, made dinner and headed out to Tball. On my way there I dropped off dinner for him and was amazed at how much a property can change in a day, trees knocked down and a hole starting to form. It is so uplifting for him to be working on something like this for our family and I feel good knowing I am supporting him in what he is working towards. You know how there can be really shitty days in a marriage, well today it is a good day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later, M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-776423566878239132?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/776423566878239132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/06/step-forward.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/776423566878239132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/776423566878239132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/06/step-forward.html' title='A step forward'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-7773884505971156864</id><published>2010-06-19T20:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-19T20:57:14.835-07:00</updated><title type='text'>If you give a mom a muffin..</title><content type='html'>Got this from a friend and had to pass it along, it is so accurate,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you give a mom a muffin&lt;br /&gt;She'll want a cup of coffee to go with it&lt;br /&gt;She'll pour herself some&lt;br /&gt;The coffee will get spilled by her three year old&lt;br /&gt;She'll wipe it up&lt;br /&gt;Wiping the floor, she will find some dirty socks&lt;br /&gt;She'll remember she has to do some laundry&lt;br /&gt;When she puts the laundry in the washer&lt;br /&gt;She'll trip over some boots and bump into the freezer&lt;br /&gt;Bumping into the freezer will remind her&lt;br /&gt;She has to plan a dinner for tonight&lt;br /&gt;She will get out a pound of burger&lt;br /&gt;She will look for the cookbook(101 things to make out of burger)&lt;br /&gt;The cookbook is sitting under a pile of mail&lt;br /&gt;She will see the phone bill which is due tomorrow&lt;br /&gt;She will look for her checkbook&lt;br /&gt;The checkbook is in her purse that is being dumped out by her two year old&lt;br /&gt;She'll smell something funny&lt;br /&gt;She'll change her two year old&lt;br /&gt;While she is changing the baby the phone will ring&lt;br /&gt;Her four year old will answer it and hang up&lt;br /&gt;She remembers she wanted to phone her friend to come for coffee on Friday&lt;br /&gt;Thinking of coffee will remind her that she was going to have a cup&lt;br /&gt;She will pour herself some&lt;br /&gt;And chances are...&lt;br /&gt;If she has a cup of coffee &lt;br /&gt;Her kids will have eaten the muffin that went with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Night all!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-7773884505971156864?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/7773884505971156864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/06/if-you-give-mom-muffin.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/7773884505971156864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/7773884505971156864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/06/if-you-give-mom-muffin.html' title='If you give a mom a muffin..'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-6771863973380734005</id><published>2010-06-17T21:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-17T22:01:20.613-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Get yourself out there</title><content type='html'>Hey chicks, if you have any spectacular ideas that you have been sitting on for a while, maybe not feeling like you can be successful, now is the time to just get out there and give it a try. I know it feels scary to think about talking to people and selling your idea, but the worst they can say is no. I get told no everyday by people who are not interested in my site. The thing is I love the site, and I think it adds value, and that is what I set out to do. So if you have something that you are passionate about, get out there and do it, somebody will love it as much as you do!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-6771863973380734005?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/6771863973380734005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/06/get-yourself-out-there.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/6771863973380734005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/6771863973380734005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/06/get-yourself-out-there.html' title='Get yourself out there'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-7909333292533025835</id><published>2010-06-14T21:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-14T21:26:13.542-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Second time around...</title><content type='html'>Okay so my son is just finishing his antibiotics and now my daughter is on day 2 of a fever and not eating, pain in the side of the head and she is right now snooring so loud she sounds like a 50 year old man who smokes and just ate a big turkey dinner!! So of course me being me is ready to toss her in the car and run for emergency, but I am trying to think rationally, (what the hell is that?) Hopefully she will be better in the morning and I won't have to go to the doctor yet again. I was talking with my sister in law tonight and she just went to a homeopathic lady who specializes in building the immune system, so I am on hot pursuit for that information first thing tomorrow. I am so done with illnesses. If any of you have any bright ideas on prevention for kids illnesses, please let me know, I would love any tips and I am sure all the other moms out there feel the same.&lt;br /&gt;Talk to you all later,&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-7909333292533025835?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/7909333292533025835/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/06/second-time-around.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/7909333292533025835'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/7909333292533025835'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/06/second-time-around.html' title='Second time around...'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-2368959259102904753</id><published>2010-06-11T21:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-14T17:24:25.766-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Published!</title><content type='html'>Hey there everyone, I am so excited to share the following link with you, http://www.bclocalnews.com/vancouver_island_south/saltspringislanddriftwood/lifestyles/96143519.html, it an article written about small town chicks that was published in the Driftwood. This website is really me pride and joy so I had to share with all of you. Thanks for all the support that you have given me from just visiting my site. Please feel free to share any comments with me, I would love the interaction.&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-2368959259102904753?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/2368959259102904753/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/06/hey-there-everyone-i-am-so-excited-to.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/2368959259102904753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/2368959259102904753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/06/hey-there-everyone-i-am-so-excited-to.html' title='Published!'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-5119781202737868727</id><published>2010-06-11T02:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-11T02:52:06.400-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Not Sleeping</title><content type='html'>So it is 2:00am and I am up again, everynight seems like, I get woken up by my four year old and then I cannot get back to sleep for a couple of hours. Anyone else have this issue? He is in such a bad habit, and he not only wakes up but wants juice, which I know is bad, but he whines for like 10 minutes and wakes up everyone in the house. Then you end up getting angry and he cries, it is so bad. If anyone has any tips please let me know, I am sure the rest of us could benefit from your wisdom. As for me I am going back to bed, to wipe up the glass of water that I just knocked over all over a library book, f*&amp;^*^ck and then I am going to try and salvage the rest of the night, 6:00am comes early...&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-5119781202737868727?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/5119781202737868727/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/06/not-sleeping.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/5119781202737868727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/5119781202737868727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/06/not-sleeping.html' title='Not Sleeping'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-6282198119803549065</id><published>2010-06-08T21:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-08T21:47:26.054-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sick Kids</title><content type='html'>Oh my god, there is nothing more pathetic than your kids when they are sick, other than your husband of course, that is truly sad. You know the feeling when your kids wake you up in the middle of the night and you go to their room swearing and cursing because you are awake and have just suceeded in stubbing your f&amp;^*^*&amp;ing toe? But then you go in their room and their is that unmistakeable smell of a sick child, only a mother can smell it and you know before you touch them that they are on fire with a fever, well that has been my last 3 days with my 4 year old, I took him in to see the Dr and suprise, Brochitis. My husband says to me when I get home, "well how the hell did he get that", you know when you get that question in that tone, you feel like saying, "oh well honey, I gave it to him, yah that is right, I felt like being evil and bestowed that on the little urchin." Really he is just upset as am I that are little person is sick. The joys of motherhood and wife. Anyway day 4 we are on and he is coming back from the pit of hell, and right on target to start bugging his sister, so we now get to listen to not only whining but bitching too, that starts the fight with the mom and dad and so it goes on. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway ladies, nothing you haven't experienced yourselves, just thought I would share.&lt;br /&gt;Talk to you all later,&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-6282198119803549065?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/6282198119803549065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/06/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/6282198119803549065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/6282198119803549065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/06/blog-post.html' title='Sick Kids'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-4918259719474919537</id><published>2010-06-05T21:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-05T21:06:48.304-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Universe...</title><content type='html'>I am not sure how many of you know about 'the secret', it is where you ask for help from the universe and it delivers as long as you believe, but you truly have to believe. My husband and I truly believed in the sale of our house so that we could buy property and build and I know you will not believe me when I tell you, but a lovely woman showed up at our door the next day and offered to buy it. Anyway after a couple months of back and forth conversations the sale has gone through and we are closing on our new property next week. I used to think that this stuff was all hocus pocus, but it really works, it is so amazing and when it does work it gives you goose bumps. The thing was, was that all three people were believing in it happening and the power of that made it happen. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Try it sometime, it is awesome.&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-4918259719474919537?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/4918259719474919537/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/06/universe.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/4918259719474919537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/4918259719474919537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/06/universe.html' title='The Universe...'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-7026821287820011991</id><published>2010-06-04T22:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-04T22:42:57.666-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting Paid</title><content type='html'>Today I got paid and I am doing a job I love so much that it did not even matter. Imagine that to love a job so much that getting paid doesn't matter.I love working for the winery and the people who run it are amazing, Elaine and Marcel are just so casual and happy. I sit there and wait for people to come in and if they don't I read my book and wait, but what a way to hang out. When the peeps come in it is great because I am excited to talk to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This weekend I will be working and then throwing a bday party for my mother in law. And then back to school next week. Remember girls enjoy every aspect of your life, if you want to drink wine, drink it, if you want to get some action, get it, your husband will love it, if you want to watch soaps on you tube, do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enjoy life, it is only here once,&lt;br /&gt;Talk to you tomorrow,&lt;br /&gt;Michele&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-7026821287820011991?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/7026821287820011991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/06/getting-paid.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/7026821287820011991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/7026821287820011991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/06/getting-paid.html' title='Getting Paid'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-7827271534896745904</id><published>2010-06-03T16:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-03T16:29:28.478-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Riding a ferry</title><content type='html'>Oh my god, what is it with people who almost knock you over by passing you on the ramp up to the ferry? Do they know some major frigging secret that I don't about what is awaiting them on the super ferry? I mean these people will mow over children and elderly people just to get their place in line for lunch or to find that golden seat. Do they realize that almost every seat on the boat has a view of the bloody ocean? Is it really worth knocking over a small child or older person and have me rip their freaking heads off. This was my experience over the past few days riding BC Ferries to and from Vancouver from Victoria via SSI. And I have to tell you that it is very hard to explain in nice words to your children that people are "DUMBASSES". Okay I feel better now. Talk to you all later. M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-7827271534896745904?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/7827271534896745904/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/06/riding-ferry.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/7827271534896745904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/7827271534896745904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/06/riding-ferry.html' title='Riding a ferry'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-5540961686491221870</id><published>2010-05-31T21:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-31T21:33:41.131-07:00</updated><title type='text'>T Ball</title><content type='html'>There is nothing funnier than watching your kids play tball or any other little kids sport. They are out there in the field in their first inning looking very serious and professional, second inning they are starting to look around, third picking their nose or their butts, fourth poking the other kids and eating their helmet straps, fifth they are now lying down or running to the playground, and then finally it is over and we will do it all again next week. God I can't wait to play these videos at their weddings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got to love them, they are honest and could give a shit of what anyone thinks!&lt;br /&gt;Michele&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-5540961686491221870?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/5540961686491221870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/05/t-ball.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/5540961686491221870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/5540961686491221870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/05/t-ball.html' title='T Ball'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-5052377212229571503</id><published>2010-05-29T19:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-31T21:34:20.160-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Building Houses</title><content type='html'>Hey out there, hope you are well. I have to tell you my hubby and I have just bought property and sold our house and are about to conquer the ultimate relationship test, building!! I am sure that you know that in a small town everyone knows who you are and what you are doing and while it can be amazingly helpful it can also be tough. People have huge expectations of you to use their plumber, or their realitor, and are very irate if you do otherwise and it can cause alot of uncomfortable feelings all around. I wish that it could be different that people could just take eachother for what they are and thank god that we are all healthy and well and have that many aquaintances to even give a shit about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we are on our way hopefully next week and are very excited about having a new home. We are not naive to the amount of work it will take but I think the excitement is more than the apprehension. I will keep you posted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Michele&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-5052377212229571503?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/5052377212229571503/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/05/building-houses.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/5052377212229571503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/5052377212229571503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/05/building-houses.html' title='Building Houses'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-8567964309616219884</id><published>2010-05-27T21:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-27T21:39:12.116-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A lift up...</title><content type='html'>Today the conversation at the playground was the same as it is anywhere else. To lift or not to lift that is the question. Do you know how tired I am of laying down at night and having my boobs fall down into my armpits? Oh yes I bet you know exactly what I mean. I am not saying I want anything added on, just a lift to put them back to where they once were.  So I am going on the great quest to find out information about this procedure. My reason for wanting this is purely for me no one else, just to be able to where a tank top again without duck tape would be amazing!! Anyway girls if you are thinking the same thing you are not alone, we all have something we need lifted whether it be the girls, or the tummy or god forbid our eyelids, (my mother did not list this off in the sag department when she told me the downfalls of again, ha ha, get it downfalls!!) Anyway I will let you know how I make out on my search for information, until then keep your chin up or whatever else is falling down!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talk to you all tomorrow,&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-8567964309616219884?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/8567964309616219884/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/05/lift-up.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/8567964309616219884'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/8567964309616219884'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/05/lift-up.html' title='A lift up...'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-4684671206768420443</id><published>2010-05-26T20:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-26T20:16:37.690-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Planting Seeds</title><content type='html'>Don't you find it amazing that you can just put seeds in dirt and they eventually produce food?? This past weekend we the family all got together at the farm and planted like 20 different veggies and herbs, it was great because we were all out there together digging, watering and planting so that we could share the bounty when it all was ready to eat. The nicest part was the sounds of our kids laughing and fighting (lets be realistic even the cutest kids can fight), and they are all at a nice age now where you don't have to be to worried about where they are. I think it is so great to have this relationship with family and to be able to all share the work and the reward. I feel very blessed!! And can you believe I did all of this with the worst vodka hangover that I have ever had, god you think at 36 that I would have figured out what that much booze can do!! Ah well, I did it and still shoveled shit!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talk to you all tomorrow,&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-4684671206768420443?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/4684671206768420443/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/05/planting-seeds.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/4684671206768420443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/4684671206768420443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/05/planting-seeds.html' title='Planting Seeds'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-1099136517895986246</id><published>2010-05-24T20:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-24T20:54:08.535-07:00</updated><title type='text'>May Long Weekend</title><content type='html'>George and I used to travel to Salt Spring all the time and Sundays or holiday Mondays were brutal because there was always that rush to jump on a ferry and try to make it home with everyone else who was trying to do the same. Kids crying, super awesome ferry food, ferries late can't make the connection, overloads, etc, etc. Today was a different day for us, as we said goodbye to our friends that were visiting us on SSI, we were awestruck by the best feeling that we are now living in the holiday destination. It felt so good to not be getting on a ferry and rushing, our life has changed so much and for the better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moral of my little story, next time you feel trapped and isolated on your little island, think of how lucky you are to be living the dream, that most people have to spend hours in line ups to leave from!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers to our little getaway!!&lt;br /&gt;Talk to you all tomorrow, M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-1099136517895986246?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/1099136517895986246/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/05/may-long-weekend.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/1099136517895986246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/1099136517895986246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/05/may-long-weekend.html' title='May Long Weekend'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-4931988714816043671</id><published>2010-05-23T20:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-24T08:12:34.203-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Listen to the birds...</title><content type='html'>Good morning, small town chicks, if you ever have the opportunity, get up early before anyone else and go for a power walk. Take a one litre bottle of water, and power walk, listen to the birds, look at the ocean if you can and just walk. Drink your water while you walk so you can get that litre in before the day even starts, you will feel so good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, we spent the day with our good friends from Vancouver, the boys went for a hike and then the chicks went to the winery and then in to town for a shop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now we are drinking lots of wine, too much, so my blog will be short, good night all,&lt;br /&gt;M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-4931988714816043671?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/4931988714816043671/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/05/listen-to-birds.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/4931988714816043671'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/4931988714816043671'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/05/listen-to-birds.html' title='Listen to the birds...'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-4971584721499704946</id><published>2010-05-22T22:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T22:46:24.112-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Good Friends, Good Wine</title><content type='html'>Today I had some of our good friends come over from Vancouver. It is so nice because he is friends with my husband and I am friends with her. So we know everyone will get along... so sad that we even have to worry about it. But you know how it is, your husband will become this uncomfortable social issue, if he is not totally okay with who is there and what are they going to be talking about. For women, we just chit chat, it may cross your mind that so and so is a B...TCH, but at lease we have dialogue. Anyway so nice to have them hear, I do miss home sometimes, but having people over to enjoy this wonderful island is great to, and doing some sightseeing is fun. Oh my god who am I kidding, you get to drink more when you have company, yippee, poor the vino!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway I had another great day at the winery, some interesting folk come through those doors, can't mention any names, as I may get caught, but definatley, good times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway this small town chicks is signing off early tonight, she is sleepy and has to start again tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Night all, M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-4971584721499704946?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/4971584721499704946/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/05/good-friends-good-wine.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/4971584721499704946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/4971584721499704946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/05/good-friends-good-wine.html' title='Good Friends, Good Wine'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-7641395239652381629</id><published>2010-05-21T21:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-21T21:50:58.222-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Found the perfect job...</title><content type='html'>So I found the perfect job.. anybody guess, working at a winery!! Can you believe it?? When we decided to move to Salt Spring from Burnaby last June I contacted the Garry Oaks Winery over here and inquired about jobs. I was told at that time that I could possibly work in the store but that it is only seasonal so I would have to wait until April. So I went and met with them and agreed that I would come and work but in the meantime did I want to help them bring in the Harvest, which I did this past September. It was so great to be a part of the wine making process from the ground up and last week I started in the store doing tastings and selling the wine, and I love it. I have met some great people and to be selling a great product is so fun. It also gives me 5 hours away from the house, where I can dress up a bit and mingle with other people. Than we went out for dinner with a wonderful family that immigrated from Korea to SSI looking for a great place to start their Art Studio, called Odyssey, &lt;a href="http://www.goodyssey.com/"&gt;www.goodyssey.com&lt;/a&gt; these people are the kindest, most talented family I have ever met. We had a great time and it is amazing to us that our children Molly and Chase and their children, who are the same age, are able to communicate for 4 hours without sharing the English dialogue, just shows you, kids really have it all figured out, it is us grownups that screw them up!! That is all for now, talk to you all tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;Michele&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-7641395239652381629?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/7641395239652381629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/05/found-perfect-job.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/7641395239652381629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/7641395239652381629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/05/found-perfect-job.html' title='Found the perfect job...'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-2294918197666110269</id><published>2010-05-20T19:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-20T19:35:49.447-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Solitude...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;My definition of solitude is "Cold wine in hand, kids are in bed and husband has decided to go to bed early, yahoo!!"&lt;/em&gt; Today was one of those super awesome days where my cough that has been lingering in my body for what seems like an eon, kept me up all night so I was running on three hours sleep today. Then my daughter needed to go to the hospital for an xray on her little foot because she has been limping for three days. You see she thought she could fly off of a trampoline and unfortunately was incorrect and landed the wrong way. Anyway we go to the hospital and of course my four year old Chase decided he HAD to join us, he just couldn't possibly stay behind with daddy, so there I am in town with both and we sit in the waiting room for 20 minutes, all the while my son is running from one end of the room to the other screaming "peepy, poopy head", and laughing his head off. Now you have to understand as I am sure you will I am still under the belief that younger men still check me out, right or wrong it makes me feel better and there were two young bucks in the waiting room, and my son was hell bent to entertain them, needless to say after 20 minutes of his antics, they were not the least bit interested in the cute mom. Then the tech comes out and informs me that it will be at least an hour before she can have her 30 second xray. I am sure you all get how excited I was about this, so I packed up my poopy boy and my hop along daughter and left only to now have an hour to spend in town in the rain. Luckily one of my fellow small town chicks was there and offered to take my son home to play with hers, life saver. This is when I am sure that all us small town chicks should stick together. Talk to you all tomorrow, I am sure it will be more than memorable.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Michele&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-2294918197666110269?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/2294918197666110269/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/05/solitude.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/2294918197666110269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/2294918197666110269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/05/solitude.html' title='Solitude...'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7792298450091091838.post-6789209488109302961</id><published>2010-05-18T14:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-18T14:44:14.909-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome to smalltownchicks.com!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Welcome to all of you super awesome chicks out there!! I am so excited to launch this website and try and be the place where you all come to visit and hopefully hang out for a while. There are a lot of us out there who need to feel a little more supported and respected and I am hoping that this is the place to do it. It should also feel like a safe forum to chit chat just like we do at playgroup, or soccer and we can do it anonymously, well ... I can't but whatever, I just won't reference anything directly about my husband, ha, ha. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Anyway on my website you will find recipes, exercise under 30 minutes, books and great articles that all get updated every month so that it is new and fresh. You will also have a daily blog from me, that you can also post to. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;The other component to the site is advertising your businesses, whether they be new or existing. You can do that by advertising in 'the marketplace' for $10 per month and this gets you a business card as well as a link to your website or a page of information with photos of your product or service. The other way is website advertising on the pages of the site. I would be happy to discuss rates and information with you via email anytime. I believe that we all have a special something to offer and I am here to help advertise your businesses so that you can gain more exposure than just in your small town.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Again I look forward to chatting with you all and any feedback you may have for me would be greatly appreciated.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Talk to you soon, small town chicks!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Michele&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7792298450091091838-6789209488109302961?l=smalltownchicks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/feeds/6789209488109302961/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/05/welcome-to-smalltownchickscom.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/6789209488109302961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7792298450091091838/posts/default/6789209488109302961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smalltownchicks.blogspot.com/2010/05/welcome-to-smalltownchickscom.html' title='Welcome to smalltownchicks.com!!'/><author><name>Small Town Chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05700577111156596189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7S5L5fwZgaY/S_MHNjpEg9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Fkbd4VvCfcA/S220/IMG_4209.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
