<?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-803496924765809718</id><updated>2011-07-08T08:37:04.005-06:00</updated><category term='Photography'/><category term='Family'/><category term='Saving Money'/><title type='text'>A Fish Out Of Water</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>156</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-3661589405949181794</id><published>2010-07-08T19:53:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-08T19:55:29.089-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Moved! Again....</title><content type='html'>Okay, so I'm move happy. Deal with it. My new address: &lt;a href="http://www.thiswaverider.com/"&gt;www.thiswaverider.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please come by and visit!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-3661589405949181794?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/3661589405949181794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=3661589405949181794&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/3661589405949181794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/3661589405949181794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2010/07/moved-again.html' title='Moved! Again....'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-2632228844193119943</id><published>2010-05-24T20:55:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-05-24T20:57:08.986-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Moved!!</title><content type='html'>Come visit my new blog at &lt;a href="http://iposislandlife.blogspot.com"&gt;www.iposislandlife.blogspot.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm blogging again. I promise. And I'm here to stay!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-2632228844193119943?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/2632228844193119943/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=2632228844193119943&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/2632228844193119943'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/2632228844193119943'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2010/05/moved.html' title='Moved!!'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-8304057895770282377</id><published>2009-11-10T12:03:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-10T23:36:28.238-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What? She's Back?!</title><content type='html'>Holy Cow!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite all the rumors that I died from a drug overdose....here I am. Okay, so there are no rumors floating around that I died from a drug overdose. I lie, I fabricate, I try to make a funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm back home in the islands where I had been longing to be all these years. No longer "a fish out of water" am I. No more. I am now, a-fish-who-forgot-how-to-swim-and-is-being-pursued-by-the-predatorial-fish in the BIG BLUE. Alright, that is pretty much another lie, fabrication, attempt at the funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been a little over 3 months since I have been home, and so many things have happened, I almost don't know where to start. I mean I have stories to tell! Like when I went to public health to get a physical for school and the doctor barely even looked me in the eye, let alone listen to my heart, and gave me a clean bill of health. Or like on my first day of clinicals at the hospital, I was proposed to, yes, a patient said he wanted to marry me...okay, he was a sick old man, probably blind and delusional. Or like when a bug crawled into my ear when I was asleep and I thought I was going to die, and I had to kill it. While It Was Still In My Ear. Or like how I'm teaching 9 aerobics/pump classes a week (and the results are pretty good, if I do say so myself). Or how I fought to get out of the LPN program to be put into the RN program (and changed policy for the nursing school). Or how my kids are loving it here. Or how I picked up paddling (outrigger canoes) and saw whales, and a variety of different turtles. Or how I've been here for the last 3+ months, WithOut My Husband. I have no car, so I bum rides, catch the bus, or walk...which is usually no big deal unless it's raining pigs and horses. Or how we have been without a tv this whole time and my daughter read the Fablehaven series in ONE WEEK (that's 4 books, peeps). Or the huge earthquake that lasted forever and had me convinced that the earth was going to open up and swallow us whole (house and all). Or the devastation I've seen from the tsunami.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The list goes on and on. I have so much to tell you guys. I finally got hooked up with internet this week and so I'm back. Yes, the phoenix has risen out of the ashes of her drug overdose (such drama). I'm back to haunt you, make you laugh, cry, sing praises, curse evil doers, and hopefully smile a little.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yay, I'm back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-8304057895770282377?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/8304057895770282377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=8304057895770282377&amp;isPopup=true' title='19 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/8304057895770282377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/8304057895770282377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/11/what-shes-back.html' title='What? She&apos;s Back?!'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>19</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-2148821208604832179</id><published>2009-08-05T19:37:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-08-05T19:48:29.299-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Breaking Up Is Hard To Do. Sort Of.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;I am leaving Utah tomorrow. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;I will be driving over Utah's border at approximately 8 am. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;It feels weird.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;We moved to Orem on May 15, 2000. I was two months pregnant with my third child. Zeke was only 12. It was a hot, muggy night. Back then I wasn't thrilled to be moving to Utah as I had vowed in 1985 that, "I would NEVER return to Utah again. Ever!" (to live, visits are okay)  Actually, this leads to the first lesson I learned in Utah: 'Never say never.'&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;We lived in Utah for 9 years, and 2 1/2 months. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Utah has taken our family on quite a ride. We lived and learned a lot. A lot. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;So tomorrow we cross over into our new lives in American Samoa. We head into new adventures. It is time for change. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Stay tuned.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&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/803496924765809718-2148821208604832179?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/2148821208604832179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=2148821208604832179&amp;isPopup=true' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/2148821208604832179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/2148821208604832179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/08/breaking-up-is-hard-to-do-sort-of.html' title='Breaking Up Is Hard To Do. Sort Of.'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-9100361795025534949</id><published>2009-07-29T12:18:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-07-29T12:32:32.523-06:00</updated><title type='text'>'I Was A Runnin'</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;Yesterday I ran!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was the coolest thing! I went to physical therapy and they have this treadmill in a pool thingy and they let me try it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the speed on the treadmill goes up to 7.0 and they didn't let me max out. I was a bit disappointed. I mean, I was in the water for crying out loud. I have enough adipose tissue to keep me afloat. Running in the water felt like nothing really. I mean to be able to run without feeling the weight of your body pounding on your joints is just like heaven, it's like as good as chocolate on top of chocolate. So I knew I could max out the speed and be totally fine. If worst came to worse, I could easily lift my legs off the treadmill and tread water. But 5.5 is all they let me do. Shucks. Don't they know who I am? The crazy psycho Hamo?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But who cares, I got to run!!! And not only did I get to run, I got to run feeling as light as a feather....a very new feeling to me. Oh, and they also had this camera underwater so I could watch my legs do their thing. If it wasn't for the camera, I would have totally forgot I was running. Cooler than cool! The coolest!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that that's over, I have the whole business of moving to deal with. Fun, funner, and funnest times. But I don't really care because 'I Was A Runnin' yesterday!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-9100361795025534949?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/9100361795025534949/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=9100361795025534949&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/9100361795025534949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/9100361795025534949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-was-runnin.html' title='&apos;I Was A Runnin&apos;'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-1890096011883315970</id><published>2009-07-24T07:34:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-07-24T07:52:07.161-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Motivation</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;What motivates you to get up and get things done? Is it something or someone else? Or are you one of those people who are self-motivated? One of those 'go-getters'? You know the type, they jump up out of bed at 5am without an alarm clock and get their homes all sparkling clean, workout, prepare healthy meals for their family, keep a nice looking yard, have a garden, take their kids on fun adventures, read to them, etc.....all on the steam of their OWN engine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, that's NOT me. I sit around and look at what needs to be done in my home, on my body, for my kids, out in my yard, and I sigh. It's not one of those 'ahhhhhh' sighs, it is the 'uuuugggghhhh' sigh. So yeah. Like I come home from work and find my home looking like a tornado just came through and I sigh the ugly sigh. Then I proceed to sit and stare and my children......until I remember that my sister is coming up from St. George with her family for the weekend. Then I sigh the ugly again. I try to postpone cleaning until the very last moment. I text her and say, 'so what time are you guys coming up TOMORROW.' And she quickly replies, "we'r&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;e on our way right now." And.....you guessed it.....ugly sigh #349 for the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course I have no choice but to clean. Asap. Thanks for the motivation sis. But I find after the job is done, I feel so good. The house looks so good. The motivation gets me going and I plop down on to the floor for 500 crunches (which I desperately need since I have become a big huge flabby body since the knee surgery).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All this gets me thinking.....why is it that I can't just get up and do things on my own without outside influence? I mean I know it is going to make me feel better in the end, and look better, and have a happier home.....ugly sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Self-motivation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to start a support group. Ha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-1890096011883315970?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/1890096011883315970/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=1890096011883315970&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/1890096011883315970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/1890096011883315970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/07/motivation.html' title='Motivation'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-2788345676378205389</id><published>2009-07-20T20:06:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-07-20T20:22:33.522-06:00</updated><title type='text'>What Day Is It Today?</title><content type='html'>I get all turned around and upside down when I work graveyard shifts. I worked 6 days in a row, not all graves, but enough to get my sleep pattern all out of whack and just confused on where I am, what time or day it is. CRAZY! I would like to get going on my packing/cleaning out this house but my eyes are crossed from being so tired. To top it all off, I got sick, and I strained a muscle in my leg....sheesh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you know what? I'm still smiling!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I lay here with my cloudy/congested head, I look around my room, I look at this home that we have had for the last 8 1/2 years and I'm filled with emotions. You know, when we moved into this house, little Sefo was less than a week old? Zeke was only 12. This home was our shelter for the birth, life, and death of Tauivi. My mother was living with us when she passed away. We lived here for Zeke's Junior High and High school years. Lalelei and Zeus were born while we resided here. Hueina has grown from a little 2 year old girl to a beautiful 10 year old in this home. We survived 2 layoffs in this home. This home has on occasion been filled to capacity with family for various events, happy and sad. Sefo transformed the unfinished basement to quite a nice liveable space.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A lot happens in 8 years. This home saw it all....our ups and downs, our fights, our parties, our frustations, our joys, our heartaches, our pains, our growth, our failures. Everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we prepare to sell it, I think of all the memories and realize that saying goodbye to this home is just like saying goodbye to a dear family member. It's not easy...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm not going to do it until it is time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-2788345676378205389?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/2788345676378205389/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=2788345676378205389&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/2788345676378205389'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/2788345676378205389'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/07/what-day-is-it-today.html' title='What Day Is It Today?'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-830100234365095968</id><published>2009-07-15T16:38:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-07-15T16:47:49.899-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Blog Name</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Thanks to all of you who suggested new blog names! I'm still working on it, so keep those suggestions coming. I should offer a prize for the best of the bestest of suggestions, but what do I have to give?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Line, I know you were joking, but still, I tried to imagine myself missing Utah....and nothing. I tried again....futile. It's just not going to happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course there are many things I will miss "in" Utah...mostly people. I will miss seeing many of you around town. I will miss my buddies at the gym. I will miss my awesome neighbors. I will miss my primary kids. I will miss my co-workers (well, some of them). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've made so many wonderful friends here. I've had some incredible experiences here. I have learned a lot about a lot of things here. Utah is really not a bad place to be, really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Except if you're longing to be somewhere else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-830100234365095968?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/830100234365095968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=830100234365095968&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/830100234365095968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/830100234365095968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/07/blog-name.html' title='Blog Name'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-6353428447260677649</id><published>2009-07-14T03:34:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-07-14T03:46:27.667-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Left You Hanging.....</title><content type='html'>I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still not ready to talk about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm going to talk about something else. Totally unrelated. Totally opposite in emotion....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're Moving Back To Samoa!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I Am So Excited. But a little nervous for some reason that I can't explain. Nevertheless, there are so many things to do and so little time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to go to nursing school in Samoa. I know, it is not the most prestigious of schools, but I don't care, much, because I get to be home!! The news came over the past weekend, so I'm still in shock. We have to be there in about 3 weeks! There are so many things to do. Like pack, clean, paint, many trips to D.I., and the dump, shop, pack, and all the other fun stuff that goes along with moving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But more importantly, I need to find a new url and name for my blog. I mean I can't be www.missingtheislands dot blogspot dot com anymore.....nor can I be a Fish Out of Water. That's going to be some serious work. Do you have any suggestions? Please leave a comment with your ideas~I know, pawn my hard work off on you~so cheap. But who cares, cuz......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're finally moving!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-6353428447260677649?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/6353428447260677649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=6353428447260677649&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/6353428447260677649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/6353428447260677649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-left-you-hanging.html' title='I Left You Hanging.....'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-151887039787154280</id><published>2009-07-05T19:32:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-07-05T19:51:20.292-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Line....</title><content type='html'>where sanity ends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where is that line? Is it etched in stone? Is there a definite 'line' that separates the sane from the insane? If so, who put it there and how does one know if they have 'crossed' over, one way or the other? What exactly are the guideline? Do you have to seek out professional help to find the answer? And what is classified as 'professional' anyway?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I have a secret&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'm not sharing it with you. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Yet&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What determines sanity? Is it the anticipation of doom,  and having it come to pass more horrible than you thought?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or is it the anticipations of glory and happiness yet resulting in doom?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;My secret is burning a hole in this blog and your eyes, isn't it? You are wondering what could this secret be? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Patience, I will tell you. One day. Soon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But for now, you must join me on the line where I dwell. That line between the two sanities. I move from one side to the other. Back and forth. Forth and back. Finding comfort on one side because I can hide, I can forget, I can feign ignorance. On the other side, I realize I can not hide and must draw on power from beyond this weak mortal existence to endure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;On second thought, don't join me on that line. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-151887039787154280?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/151887039787154280/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=151887039787154280&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/151887039787154280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/151887039787154280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/07/line.html' title='The Line....'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-6581878205903106091</id><published>2009-06-30T16:08:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-30T16:32:43.986-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Surprise?!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Tell me a secret and I'll keep it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unless....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are one of my siblings, or even one of my parents. If you are in one of those two categories, then don't tell me anything you don't want spread on the "sibling/parent" news.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is sad, I know. I have a problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me give you an example. The other day my sister told me something and she said, "don't tell Dad." Well, those last magical words are like an invitation to me to do exactly the opposite. So I told Dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another example? Sure. Today, my mom told me they are trying to plan a surprise bbq for one of my sisters' birthday tomorrow. When my sister called me today, I told her about it. There's more to the story and I can easily convince you that telling my sister about it was in really in her best interest, but I'm not into excuses anymore, they're boring and well, just excuses. The bottom line is, I told her....surprise blown to shreds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are just two examples of me and my big mouth. And it only happens with my immediate family grapevine. I don't tell outsiders our family's deep dark secrets, I don't want to burden others. But when it comes to my siblings and parents, I don't keep any secrets for them or from them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-6581878205903106091?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/6581878205903106091/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=6581878205903106091&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/6581878205903106091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/6581878205903106091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/06/surprise.html' title='Surprise?!'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-5447894525004015018</id><published>2009-06-29T12:08:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-29T12:28:15.472-06:00</updated><title type='text'>'P' is for Psycho</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I have been working a lot lately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know why? Because everyone else gets to enjoy their summer vacation by going on fun trips to various summer-time locations and they need someone to cover for them at work. And that 'someone' so happens to be me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I complaining? Well, yeah. Sort of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two days after my surgery I was pulling 10 and 12 hour shifts. My leg was in this huge brace that went from the middle of my thigh down to bottom of my calf muscle. I had to use crutches. It was not pretty, or fun either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I survived.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm now in a hinge brace and walking without crutches. And I'm barely limping. I have impressed my doctor and physical therapist so much that they are letting me go back to cycling classes and say that I can start running again in a mere 4 more weeks! Can you believe it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well you should.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Baffled at my quick recovery, they come up with their own theories. The doctor says it's due to the fact that I've had children and am no stranger to pain, and I have to be up to take care of my family. My PT says it's because I'm athletic. They don't really know. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;But&lt;/span&gt; you my loyal readers know why. It's because I do crazy stuff like go and workout right before I go into surgery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see, it pays off to be a little psycho.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I wonder if I can be ready for the St. George Marathon? I wonder if they do a half-marathon?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-5447894525004015018?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/5447894525004015018/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=5447894525004015018&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/5447894525004015018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/5447894525004015018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/06/p-is-for-psycho.html' title='&apos;P&apos; is for Psycho'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-5053254146235074566</id><published>2009-06-14T21:36:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-14T22:04:02.960-06:00</updated><title type='text'>"P" is for Pain</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The first words I heard when I woke from surgery were, "it was your acl."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first thought was, "oh no." And then I was filled with that old familiar feeling, depression.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked down at my knee which was all covered up with a wrap, a cool ice belt, and a huge knee brace. The ice belt is hooked up to this little cooler filled with ice water and has a pump that sends water up through this ice belt or brace thingy on my knee to  keep it nice and cool. Of course, I couldn't  feel anything since they gave me a nerve block in my femoral nerve which was supposed to keep my knee all comfy for at least another day and get me through my first visit with the physical therapist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What?! I have to go to physical therapy the very next day? the day after surgery? less than 24 hours after you stuck stuff into my knee? scraped things out? drilled my bone? in essence, molested my knee? and you want me to work on it? huh? what you smokin'?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was this close (-) to not showing up. But being the glutton for pain that I am, I went. And although I was afraid, I made it through with flying colors. My leg lift was, "impressive," according to the physical therapist himself. He was in awe. What can I say, these huge hamo thighs are not just for looks, you know. And okay, I have to admit, I have been exercising all the way up till I went in for surgery. I went to cycling class at 5:15am, and got to the hospital at 7am for surgery.....What?? I'm crazy. You already knew that so don't act so astonished!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess it won't surprise you either that I'm not on any pain medications. I just can't do it. Okay, I take some ibuprofen, but that's all. I have the prescription for percoset just sitting there, with no place to call home. The nurses, physical therapists, everyone told me I was really going to need them. But what do they know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Absolutely Nothing! (especially the part about me being a crazy lady with strong thighs)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have pain, yes, but it's tolerable and ibuprofen works just fine for me. Why wouldn't I have pain? &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Knee Was Molested by Probes and A Drill!&lt;/span&gt; Of course that's going to hurt the next day. Duh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So "P" is for Pain. Sometimes you just gotta deal with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(p.s. the nerve block was supposed to wear off after one day, but all around my shin is still numb. sheez, if the guy was going to mess up my nerve, he could have at least messed up the part where it hurts....)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-5053254146235074566?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/5053254146235074566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=5053254146235074566&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/5053254146235074566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/5053254146235074566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/06/p-is-for-pain.html' title='&quot;P&quot; is for Pain'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-3533468226065866366</id><published>2009-06-10T20:27:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-10T20:50:00.843-06:00</updated><title type='text'>'Blowing' my own horn, Blue, Bloated, and Other 'B' Words</title><content type='html'>Just for fun, I'm going to start with: 'Blowing' my own horn. In my Intro to Nursing class, we had to write a paper. Small kine 3-5 pager, but they actually wanted in APA format. It was due last week Wednesday. I woke up last Tuesday and decided that I needed to get the paper done. I felt a little pressure as I procrastinated until the last day, and of course, the heavy pressure of having graduated with a Bachelor's degree in English (of which I keep under wraps so the expectation level of my papers remain low). Nevertheless, I know that I have an English degree, so I feel the pressure. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyhow, we got the papers back today in class and I was seriously nervous. I hadn't written a paper in a while, and I only wrote this paper the day before it was due. (And to be perfectly honest, I really didn't proof read it...cocky or lazy, you choose) As I started looking at the notes my teacher left on my paper, a smile formed on my mouth without any encouragement from my brain. She loved it! She thought my introduction was creative and that my whole paper was insightful. To top it off, she read to the class from my paper! What?! That's never happened before. So here I am, blowing my horn to the world! But even as I write this, I think to myself: 'If she knew that I had an English degree, would she be so excited about my paper? Or would she have expected more?' Hmmmm, I don't know. But in the end I don't really care....I'm such a fraud!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Blue." It is so hard to write about being blue after blowing my own horn. I mean, how can I write about being all depressed about so many different things after that? So I guess I won't. And the "Bloating" goes right along with the blue. I think I've eaten about 5,000 calories a day for about a week. Why? Because I've been blue. Why? I tell you later.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The final "B" word for the day is actually not a 'B' word at all, it is a "K" word. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Knee." Tomorrow morning I'm having my knee scoped. I tore my meniscus with the possibility of an ACL tear. What does that mean? If it's my meniscus, it will be a relatively short recovery period and then I should be able to get back into all the fun exercising I love to do. If my ACL is in need of repair, I will be in physical therapy for a while, a long while, at least 6 months. So here's to hoping it's the former, not the later. If you're a praying person, remember me....and my knee. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-3533468226065866366?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/3533468226065866366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=3533468226065866366&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/3533468226065866366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/3533468226065866366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/06/blowing-my-own-horn-blue-bloated-and.html' title='&apos;Blowing&apos; my own horn, Blue, Bloated, and Other &apos;B&apos; Words'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-3640389055846938786</id><published>2009-06-05T12:22:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-05T12:47:41.801-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Mr. 'J'</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;The other day, I met up with an old flame, Mr. J.  I was at the gym minding my own business, when the instructor, G (that's what we'll call her), walked in to the room. I looked up at G and right over her shoulder I saw him, Mr. J. He looked me in the eye and gave me a wink and a smile. I cringed but smiled back. He proceeded to walk right to me, as if his sole purpose in coming to the gym was to see me. I averted my eyes and did something, I can't remember what.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;When Mr. J got to me, he said, "Hi Ipo, long time no see." In his smooth and confident way, he continued, "looks like you've been missing me." I replied, "No, haven't missed you at all. I'm perfectly happy and content with myself." Not giving up so easily, he smiled, "I'm sure you remember all the good times we had." I wasn't going to give in either so I said, "Um. No, they weren't very good times. In fact they were the worst years of my life. So I'd appreciate it if you get out of my space and leave me alone. Why don't you just pretend like you don't know who I am because that's what I'm going to do, starting now." Mr. J disappeared.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;I sat for a moment thinking to myself, "you idiot, it's all your fault, you left the door open and Mr. J knew exactly when he could walk back through." I slapped myself (in my mind, I was still in public afterall). I then looked back at the instructor, G,  as she began the class. I realized that she was the catalyst for the whole incident with Mr. J. You see I call her 'G' for gorgeous. She has the perfect body, muscular, fit, virtually fat-free, not to mention she has a beautiful face with long, thick dark hair. She is the picture of perfection. When she walked into the class, Mr. J, also known as 'Jealousy' saw my heart and came in on her heals and approached me with smugness. I'm glad I came to my senses quickly and chased him off....hopefully for good.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;The 'J' word for the day is Jealousy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;I hope you chase him away when he approaches you (because I know he does).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-3640389055846938786?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/3640389055846938786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=3640389055846938786&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/3640389055846938786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/3640389055846938786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/06/mr-j.html' title='Mr. &apos;J&apos;'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-5756555763966328990</id><published>2009-06-04T09:19:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T18:42:45.356-06:00</updated><title type='text'>'F' Is For Femcation, Funtastic, and Food</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Yes, I do take requests. Or suggestions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My cousin, Sepa, left a comment about me going through the alphabet and suggested I do the letter 'F' next. When you hear the phrase, "the 'f' word" it usually means only one thing. But not here. Sepa suggested the words, 'femcation' (which I had never heard before), funtastic, food, and forgiveness. I'll do the first three today, forgiveness is too deep for me to do right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sepa's definition of 'femcation' was, "just the girlfriends vacationing in ocean-adjacent location." Like I said before, I like. I've never been on a femcation. Have you? Will you tell me about your vacations if you have?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next 'F' word is funtastic. My definition of funtastic is: "any activity that brings a lot of fantastic fun into one's life." Ha! My idea of funtastic is a femcation on a cruise to a tropical island, or a greek island, or any island that has warm sandy beaches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The final 'F' word for the day is FOOD. My definition of food is: "any edible item that  nourishes the body, mind, and soul." My idea of food (summed up) is nutritious natural whole foods that are prepard right out of the ground or off the tree, or caught in the ocean. And CHOCOLATE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There you have it. The 'F' words for the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obviously we are not going in alphabetical order. What's next?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suggestions welcome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-5756555763966328990?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/5756555763966328990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=5756555763966328990&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/5756555763966328990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/5756555763966328990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/06/f-is-for-femcation-funtastic-and-food.html' title='&apos;F&apos; Is For Femcation, Funtastic, and Food'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-9087670393455676057</id><published>2009-06-03T08:02:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T18:46:43.721-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The "C" Word</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Cure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I first started my post about the "Q" word, it was going to be a serious post. I was totally wanting to get down on myself about all my failures in life. I was going to talk about my son's failures and how he is just taking after me, so he can not be blamed. As I got more into the writing, I figured out that it was pointless to really beat myself up about everything, so I ended it on a more 'poke fun at myself' note.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The "C" word for the day is cure. The cure to my self-pitying has been all of your comments, and laughter (I could actually hear you all laughing at me...okay, with me). I really appreciate all the comments you left. Rita, I'm so blind to have missed your 'whole' shelf on quitting at my local Border's. I will specifically ask for it the next time I go. Sue, thank you for stating, twice, that I'm not a servant of Satan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dee, I knew you would say something like, "Satan, get thee behind me." It made me smile, especially the part where you think you might excel at me in quitting. I don't know if that could be true. Ashleigh, I love your, "Satan is a fag." It had me rolling!! And May, thank you for being so kind as to think I could actually make money being a psycho out loud(or in writing, rather). I have thought about it, then quit the idea because I didn't know where to start....ha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you guys. I am cured.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least for this week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-9087670393455676057?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/9087670393455676057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=9087670393455676057&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/9087670393455676057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/9087670393455676057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/06/c-word.html' title='The &quot;C&quot; Word'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-2645121756337026566</id><published>2009-06-02T12:25:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T12:41:18.655-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The "Q" Word</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Quit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dread that word. I hate the thought of being a quitter. When I have to 'throw in the towel' I feel like a loser, a flake, weak, a quitter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes when I have to quit something I'm involved in, my ego/pride/self-esteem takes a big hit. And I think of my kids and wonder what they are thinking of me. Am I setting the example of 'quittage' in our home? Is this the legacy I'm leaving behind for my children? To Quit?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently I've had to quit a few things. I had to drop out of the Wasatch Back race, the St. George Marathon, Weight Watchers, I haven't been able to go to my favorite new gym, and I didn't complete my application for nursing school. I could list the reasons why I've quit, but that's not important to me right now. What's important is that I quit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure, there's a difference between slacking off, and quitting. I know slacking off, I'm the biggest-slacking-offest Queen. This is quitting, a whole 'nother animal that has evolved from slacking off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These thoughts make me reflect on my life and all the things that I've had to quit, or things I failed at.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone says, it doesn't matter how many times you fall, it is how many times you get up and keep trying that matters. Yada, yada, yada, blah, blah, blah. Someone should say, when you fall down, just stay there, don't bother trying to get back up, it's not worth it, you're not worthy, not everyone succeeds, just live with it. Oh yeah, someone does say that, I think his name is Satan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Great, now I'm a disciple of Satan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-2645121756337026566?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/2645121756337026566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=2645121756337026566&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/2645121756337026566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/2645121756337026566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/06/q-word.html' title='The &quot;Q&quot; Word'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-8485898892122408262</id><published>2009-05-30T21:13:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-30T21:29:45.763-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Curtains In The Wind</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;There are many things that are comforting for me. Food, perhaps, is at the top of the list. Weather is up there as well, but not just any weather. I like rainy days. I love the sound of rain pounding on the roof. Growing up in Samoa, we had tin roofs and when it rained the sound of the rain hitting the roof drowned out the whole world. I loved it. Since I currently live in a dry climate, rain doesn't come often. So when it does, I just love to sit and listen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find that breezy days are comforting to me as well. Not extremely windy days, but days when the curtains do a graceful dance in the wind. It reminds me of home as well. My childhood home had louvered glass in the windows. When the trade winds blew, the winds would move the  curtains in a beautiful wave.  The curtain gently puffs up with the breeze, and then the air waves down to the bottom end of the curtain, lifting it up and then the wind enters the home. This pattern repeats but not in a uniform manner, sometimes there are big waves, sometimes small waves, sometimes the end of the curtain doesn't lift. It is all mesmerizing. And for me, comforting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today we have gentle canyon breezes blowing. I could sit for hours watching the curtain dance. It gives me comfort because it reminds me of home and my childhood, leaving me longing to return(more than usual).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-8485898892122408262?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/8485898892122408262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=8485898892122408262&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/8485898892122408262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/8485898892122408262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/05/curtains-in-wind.html' title='Curtains In The Wind'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-2278192584516598002</id><published>2009-05-30T11:09:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T18:52:47.911-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Little Old Lady - Lalelei</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SiM43_UTu8I/AAAAAAAAAbA/jJmiUgMuNNw/s1600-h/fixed+hat2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SiM43_UTu8I/AAAAAAAAAbA/jJmiUgMuNNw/s400/fixed+hat2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342176117532113858" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Just couldn't resist this shot&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-2278192584516598002?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/2278192584516598002/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=2278192584516598002&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/2278192584516598002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/2278192584516598002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/05/little-old-lady.html' title='Little Old Lady - Lalelei'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SiM43_UTu8I/AAAAAAAAAbA/jJmiUgMuNNw/s72-c/fixed+hat2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-8781025658908262416</id><published>2009-05-30T10:04:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-30T10:15:36.785-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Doctor Law, Junior</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SiFZ_YQSCgI/AAAAAAAAAaw/EoB-EF_zqbs/s1600-h/dr+law+and+dr+law+jr.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 241px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SiFZ_YQSCgI/AAAAAAAAAaw/EoB-EF_zqbs/s400/dr+law+and+dr+law+jr.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341649578415491586" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Dr. Law and Dr. Law, Jr.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SiFZ_BfqTRI/AAAAAAAAAao/micQrHakm3o/s1600-h/sassy+lawyer.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SiFZ_BfqTRI/AAAAAAAAAao/micQrHakm3o/s400/sassy+lawyer.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341649572305980690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Sassy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Our baby sister, MJ, graduated from Law School on May 15. Of course, being the underachiever that she is, we doubted this day would ever come....NOT! She is a Captain in the US Army, and has many other accomplishments. We are so proud of her. The picture at the top is of her and our Dad. We used to tease Dad all the time and call him "Dr. Law." After years of trying to get any of his 11 children to follow in his footsteps, he finally has his little Dr. Law, Jr.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, hopefully, he'll leave me alone&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-8781025658908262416?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/8781025658908262416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=8781025658908262416&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/8781025658908262416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/8781025658908262416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/05/doctor-law-junior.html' title='Doctor Law, Junior'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SiFZ_YQSCgI/AAAAAAAAAaw/EoB-EF_zqbs/s72-c/dr+law+and+dr+law+jr.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-5338178782528956523</id><published>2009-05-21T11:42:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-30T10:04:27.040-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Road Trip</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/ShWSzOdKE0I/AAAAAAAAAag/YgXAge7M6lU/s1600-h/me+n+mj.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/ShWSzOdKE0I/AAAAAAAAAag/YgXAge7M6lU/s400/me+n+mj.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338334342068966210" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister, Mary Jo, and I went down to St. George one fine Saturday morning for a surprise baby shower for our sister, Lisa May. It was a fun day trip. After the awesome party, we drove back up north. That's all, nothing as exciting as Sepa suggested. If we went to Vegas and scored some big bucks, you would see pictures of me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Packing our bags&lt;br /&gt;2. Giving away our cars (after paying them off)&lt;br /&gt;3. Giving away our home (after paying it off)&lt;br /&gt;4. Buying a couple of new cars&lt;br /&gt;5. Shopping for new stuff&lt;br /&gt;6. On a plane&lt;br /&gt;7. In Samoa building a new home&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alas, this is not the case....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-5338178782528956523?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/5338178782528956523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=5338178782528956523&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/5338178782528956523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/5338178782528956523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/05/road-trip.html' title='Road Trip'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/ShWSzOdKE0I/AAAAAAAAAag/YgXAge7M6lU/s72-c/me+n+mj.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-7558102494062327020</id><published>2009-05-21T11:39:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-21T13:13:51.131-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Photo Blogging</title><content type='html'>My baby is sick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have so much to blog about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He won't let me put him down, so I am typing with one hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It takes forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So....I'm posting a bunch of photos that have titles. When he lets me go, I will add posts to the photos. Maybe a few of them don't need any words. However, there are a few photos with great stories I want to share.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enjoy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-7558102494062327020?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/7558102494062327020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=7558102494062327020&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/7558102494062327020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/7558102494062327020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/05/photo-blogging.html' title='Photo Blogging'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-724391491932688225</id><published>2009-05-21T11:34:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-30T09:59:13.790-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Beg Your Pardon, I Never Promised You A Rose Garden</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/ShWQogm6MdI/AAAAAAAAAaY/fzEDGg74M1c/s1600-h/02580022.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/ShWQogm6MdI/AAAAAAAAAaY/fzEDGg74M1c/s400/02580022.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" alt="Posted by Picasa" style="border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;" align="middle" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;How does your garden grow?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, my yard, apparently, has turned into my garden of weeds. I thought I'd share with you the beauty of dandelions. These weeds are the bane of the neighborhood. They turn in to those little puffs and then the wind takes their seeds around to everyone's yards. I'm sure our neighbors love us for them. Especially since most of our neighbors don't have such gardens in their yards. sigh. Although, I have to say that the shot above makes dandelions look quite attractive...but to my neighbors it must look like a bouquet from hell. Ha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enjoy your gardening this summer!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-724391491932688225?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/724391491932688225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=724391491932688225&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/724391491932688225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/724391491932688225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-beg-your-pardon-i-never-promised-you.html' title='I Beg Your Pardon, I Never Promised You A Rose Garden'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/ShWQogm6MdI/AAAAAAAAAaY/fzEDGg74M1c/s72-c/02580022.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-8470837810684528996</id><published>2009-05-21T11:23:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-21T11:37:44.936-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Flower Girl</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/ShWOEeDG3vI/AAAAAAAAAaQ/ubHKFsRieVk/s1600-h/Flower+child.JPG"&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/ShWOEeDG3vI/AAAAAAAAAaQ/ubHKFsRieVk/s400/Flower+child.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" alt="Posted by Picasa" style="border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;" align="middle" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-8470837810684528996?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/8470837810684528996/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=8470837810684528996&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/8470837810684528996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/8470837810684528996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/05/flower-girl.html' title='Flower Girl'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/ShWOEeDG3vI/AAAAAAAAAaQ/ubHKFsRieVk/s72-c/Flower+child.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-8821924337266544570</id><published>2009-05-21T11:16:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-24T23:49:23.300-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Turning Over A New Leaf</title><content type='html'>Okay, here I am. After posting up these pics and getting some comments on them. I find this a fun game. If you are at all curious or have any idea as to what the story behind the pictures are....then leave your ideas or questions in a comment. I'll answer you in my post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But since I'm here, I'm going to go ahead and start.  I have decided that I'm going to be healthier. And yes, I'm dragging my family along, kicking and screaming. They have no choice. Eat with me or Starve!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all know the benefits of eating whole grains, right? So I got a simple recipe for using whole wheat flour to make bread, pizza dough, a dessert and voila! Here are the pics of what I made (with my little helper).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/ShWNieu50KI/AAAAAAAAAaI/980VzHlDFpA/s1600-h/Cooking+helper.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 288px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/ShWNieu50KI/AAAAAAAAAaI/980VzHlDFpA/s400/Cooking+helper.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338328556822450338" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This is a cream cheese/jam filled dessert. It was delicious. And, for the record, the first time I've ever done a braided baked good. I feel so, bakerish!! I don't have a mixer so I did all the kneading by hand. So I got some upper body work done as well! Bonus!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/ShWNhz08jII/AAAAAAAAAaA/fkIseiDVc6Y/s1600-h/danish.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 314px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/ShWNhz08jII/AAAAAAAAAaA/fkIseiDVc6Y/s400/danish.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338328545305070722" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Here it is again after it had been baked. If you are at all interested in the recipes, let me know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/ShWNhitWS2I/AAAAAAAAAZ4/roM8TarwlLU/s1600-h/First+healthy+pizza.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/ShWNhitWS2I/AAAAAAAAAZ4/roM8TarwlLU/s400/First+healthy+pizza.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338328540709800802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Here is the same dough recipe as seen with the pastry above, but I made a pizza this time. There's marinara, green and red bell peppers, cheese, red onions, mushrooms, tomatoes, pineapples, and basil. What? No meat? Not in this one....I made two, the other had a some ham.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I'm trying to turn over a new leaf and do a better job at taking care of my body. I can exercise like a maniac, but what good does it really do in the end if I don't give it the right kind of fuel to burn? So far it's been a great 5 days and I plan on continuing with it. I will post more of the things I've found, like natural sweeteners and stuff like that soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To tell you the truth, I've already seen a difference in how I look and how I feel when I eat less refined stuff....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-8821924337266544570?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/8821924337266544570/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=8821924337266544570&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/8821924337266544570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/8821924337266544570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/05/turning-over-new-leaf.html' title='Turning Over A New Leaf'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/ShWNieu50KI/AAAAAAAAAaI/980VzHlDFpA/s72-c/Cooking+helper.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-8463134286152820244</id><published>2009-05-21T11:14:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-21T11:39:09.084-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Precious Moments</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/ShWL9vGtRhI/AAAAAAAAAZw/C4a_6KDpt1k/s1600-h/Nana+and+Zeus.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/ShWL9vGtRhI/AAAAAAAAAZw/C4a_6KDpt1k/s400/Nana+and+Zeus.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" alt="Posted by Picasa" style="border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;" align="middle" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-8463134286152820244?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/8463134286152820244/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=8463134286152820244&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/8463134286152820244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/8463134286152820244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/05/precious-moments.html' title='Precious Moments'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/ShWL9vGtRhI/AAAAAAAAAZw/C4a_6KDpt1k/s72-c/Nana+and+Zeus.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-7211690160449780158</id><published>2009-05-21T11:12:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-21T11:38:41.831-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Treasures</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/ShWLdsQtp4I/AAAAAAAAAZo/vEq-P6qXvAQ/s1600-h/Alpha+and+Omega.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/ShWLdsQtp4I/AAAAAAAAAZo/vEq-P6qXvAQ/s400/Alpha+and+Omega.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" alt="Posted by Picasa" style="border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;" align="middle" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-7211690160449780158?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/7211690160449780158/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=7211690160449780158&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/7211690160449780158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/7211690160449780158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/05/treasures.html' title='Treasures'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/ShWLdsQtp4I/AAAAAAAAAZo/vEq-P6qXvAQ/s72-c/Alpha+and+Omega.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-6230645083180687799</id><published>2009-05-20T14:44:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-20T15:07:43.631-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Mother's Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/ShRuncVLV4I/AAAAAAAAAZg/yFIQ-fssQSg/s1600-h/Zeke+and+Zeus.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 284px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/ShRuncVLV4I/AAAAAAAAAZg/yFIQ-fssQSg/s400/Zeke+and+Zeus.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338013082239850370" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Can a picture really say a thousand words? Yes. We saw Zeke for the first time in 5 months on mother's day. Zeus immediately warmed up to Zeke, as if they had been seeing each other everyday. That's what I call a mother's day gift...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/ShRunCoimJI/AAAAAAAAAZY/nS4Gc9zS9EE/s1600-h/Sefo+and+Zeke.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 261px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/ShRunCoimJI/AAAAAAAAAZY/nS4Gc9zS9EE/s400/Sefo+and+Zeke.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338013075341744274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Look at Zeke's right hand. It is bigger than little Sefo's head. The guy is huge. I love the smiles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/ShRum9rpsJI/AAAAAAAAAZQ/xWpYP0k5CSU/s1600-h/Sefo+ready+for+the+blow.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 344px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/ShRum9rpsJI/AAAAAAAAAZQ/xWpYP0k5CSU/s400/Sefo+ready+for+the+blow.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338013074012614802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Sefo is ready for the blow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-6230645083180687799?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/6230645083180687799/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=6230645083180687799&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/6230645083180687799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/6230645083180687799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/05/mothers-day.html' title='Mother&apos;s Day'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/ShRuncVLV4I/AAAAAAAAAZg/yFIQ-fssQSg/s72-c/Zeke+and+Zeus.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-8439311760556577126</id><published>2009-05-19T14:21:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-19T15:00:02.282-06:00</updated><title type='text'>That's Odd...</title><content type='html'>...it is a cloudy/overcast day and I'm feeling quite energetic, happy even. Strange. But it's warm. I guess it's a nice balmy day. Maybe that's what it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are two things I want to talk about today. They are totally unrelated, but I don't want to make two separate posts, so you get a two-fer! Ha! Just like couponing....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, have you started couponing yet? Are you enjoying the benefits of paying a lot less for groceries? What's that? You haven't started? Well. I'm here to shame, embarrass, and guilt you into it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you use foodstamps? Do you feel guilty or embarrassed about using coupons when you get free food anyway? Well, you shouldn't feel that way at all. Let me say first of all that I don't think that using government assistance in times of need is a bad thing at all. I believe it can and should be used if you qualify, because if you do qualify, then you really need it. And you probably won't be on it forever, right? (I know that many people have disabilities, or other conditions that make it so they need to use it for a long time) I'm not on a political 'soap box,' I just want to talk about couponing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So back to the foodstampers. If you use your coupons along with your foodstamps, you can stretch your foodstamps out while building some food storage. AND, you can use your purchases to earn valuable catalinas that you can use to purchase your non food items. Almost weekly, Albertsons has catalina offers. Example: this week, if you bought $20 worth of ConAgra products then you would get a $5 catalina. The items included ketchup, canned tomatoes, wesson cooking oil, pam cooking spray, snak pack puddings, etc. Simply put, you spend $20 of foodstamps on these items and you get $5 to spend on anything else you might need.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I lose you? The catalinas print out AFTER your transaction is complete and are good for about 2 weeks or so. If you need to purchase your non food items that same day, DON'T put it all together in the same transaction. HUH?? First purchase your food, put a little bar thingy after your $20 worth of stuff, put your non food items behind the plastic bar thingy and purchase it last, in a whole separate transaction. When the cashier rings up your non food items, you hand over the catalina and just like that, $5 off your purchase.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple of things to remember, most of the time, you can only use up to 2 catalinas per purchase and your total has to at least meet or exceed the amount of the catalina....in other words, they don't give you change if your purchase is less than your catalina(s). So do your math. Use your catalinas wisely (like your foodstamps), try to buy things that are on sale and use coupons (just because something is free, it doesn't mean we should be careless with it....maximize your purchasing power)!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're wondering how I know so much about foodstamps....well, I have to admit to the www that we are currently using them. Even with the 3 jobs we have in our home, it adds up to barely cover the mortgage and the car payments....let alone the utilities, etc....(our power was turned off a little while ago...but I'll save that fun story for another day).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here's the low-down. I went to the store last night, spent $40 in foodstamps....in TWO separate transactions, got two $5 catalinas. Then in my 3rd transaction, I purchased three 6 double  rolls of toilet tissue. The toilet paper was on sale for 4.99, I had coupons for $1 off each item AND I had the matching store coupons(yet another $1 off), so the tp ended up to be 2.99 each. The total for this transaction was about $9 plus tax (I threw in a small item to make it come to $10). I gave the cashier the 2 catalinas and wham! Free tp! Totally and 100% free!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a good thing too, we were on the verge of using leaves from the neighbor's trees to do our business....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ps. I guess the 2nd thing I wanted to talk about is going to have to get it's own post after all...this one is too long as it is.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-8439311760556577126?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/8439311760556577126/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=8439311760556577126&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/8439311760556577126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/8439311760556577126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/05/thats-odd.html' title='That&apos;s Odd...'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-6502503822663150935</id><published>2009-05-18T11:08:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T11:42:49.046-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Slumping</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;I have been in a slump. Stuck in a rut. Blue. Blah. Yucky. Down. Frustrated. Lacking in motivation. You get the picture. What makes it worse is that the weather has been beautiful, if not perfect. And if you know anything about me, you know that I'm a 'weather puppet.' You know, I feel yucky when the weather is yucky, feel great when the weather is great, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been trying to discover the cause of the melancholy and this is all I have come up with:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the beginning of the year, I was on fire! I had goals set and plans to accomplish these goals. I knew exactly what I was going to do this year. But as the year quickly moves towards the middle, I find that I am not only at a stand still, but have actually fallen backwards in some goals (actually all).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is a sad thing to feel like I can not accomplish even the simplest goals, and the bigger ones? Forget about it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing I am totally frustrated about is that as a parent, I know what I need to do to help my children. Like in the case of Zeke and his challenges. I know my limitations, like I can't live his life for him, make decisions for him, or anything like that. But I know, from a spiritual point of view what can do to help. Fasting, praying, scripture study, temple service, magnifying my calling, living a better life, etc. In essence, pretty simple things, right? I would think so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bottom line is that when your child is in need of your help, your strength, your fortitude, you should rise to the occasion (okay, I mean "I" should rise to the occasion). I should do these simple things fervently, happily, faithfully. But I struggle. I don't know why. Laziness? Lack of true faith? Questions that potentially open up many 'cans' of doubt and self-loathing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zeke's situation and my lack of fortitude is a big piece of the 'melancholy pie.' There are many, many other things that have been weighing heavily on my body, mind, heart, and soul. I don't want to bore you with the details, I just had to start writing again. Catharsis, it's my aim. Hopefully this will help me to start taking steps away from this horrible tasting 'melancholy pie' that I have made for myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-6502503822663150935?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/6502503822663150935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=6502503822663150935&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/6502503822663150935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/6502503822663150935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/05/slumping.html' title='Slumping'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-7531058044452811419</id><published>2009-05-08T17:39:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-08T18:03:24.387-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Where the (*&amp;^*&amp;(!@#$$ Have I Been?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Where have I been and why haven't I been blogging?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dunno?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so there are a few things that have been occupying my time, tying up my hands, hamstrings, and other muscles I forgot I had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  I joined a new gym! It's called 'Throwdown Elite Training Center.' It kicks my butt!! I've been going for the last week and a half and my body has not stopped being sore. EVERY muscle. It hurts to laugh, but especially sneeze (abs). I have a hard time sitting down and getting up (the toilet is quite the challenge). I broke blood vessels on the top of my foot and my shins are blotched with bruises (I know, I know, you are wondering how you can sign up to mess up your body in such a fashion). For a few days I even have a hard time holding my arms up while jogging. It's been AMAZING! I love it! They (the gym) offers Muay Thai kick boxing, boot camp, cycling, boxing, yoga, pilates, core classes....and a lot more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  I have been playing Farm Town on Facebook....waste time, I know, but addicting. And it makes me wish I could actually create an awesome farm in real life...but then again, I would settle for two tomato plants and some flowers that won't die on me....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  I started a class for the summer block....small kine research/intro to nursing course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  I learned a Baliwood (is that how you spell it?) dance and performed it. It was so much fun! And I totally had fun wearing the sari and all the jewelry...bangles, big earrings, glitter make up...kind of reminded me of the 80's...but funner because I wasn't in high school. Ha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  I finally turned in my FIRST nursing application!! Wish me luck, I'm going to need it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.  Couponing and saving a ton of money!! I bought deodorant today for 50 cents a piece. Yes people, you must get on board!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.  Working on developing some photography skills. And working...hospitals and gym.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.  And of course doing all the regular stuff that keeps a woman busy....being a mommy~accessorizing with children's drool, smeared food, and boogers on my clothes. Still trying to figure out how to reach my goals. Feeling guilty about stuff, a lot of stuff, the stuff-that-never-ends stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find that I think about blogging on a daily basis. When something interesting or weird happens, I think to myself, "I need to blog about that." Then I start to rehearse in my head the words I would say. Unfortunately, most of the time, those words just stay up there floating around~homeless. sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I officially dub myself the undisputed "hodge-podge blogger" champion!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-7531058044452811419?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/7531058044452811419/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=7531058044452811419&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/7531058044452811419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/7531058044452811419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/05/where-have-i-been.html' title='Where the (*&amp;^*&amp;(!@#$$ Have I Been?'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-3993836608267485833</id><published>2009-04-30T17:08:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-30T17:23:01.174-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Nana</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SfowMStTdCI/AAAAAAAAAZI/9yyQcH_RRCA/s1600-h/Nana,Papa+with+the+Hina+and+Lalelei.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 269px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SfowMStTdCI/AAAAAAAAAZI/9yyQcH_RRCA/s400/Nana,Papa+with+the+Hina+and+Lalelei.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330626096684823586" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SfowMPf_IxI/AAAAAAAAAZA/zX8B0kHHjL4/s1600-h/Lalelei+and+Nana.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 317px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SfowMPf_IxI/AAAAAAAAAZA/zX8B0kHHjL4/s400/Lalelei+and+Nana.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330626095823659794" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;This is my mom, Diana. She just underwent open heart surgery yesterday to replace her aortic valve. I know, I know, I posted that my mother passed away in 2005. That was my mom, Sylvia. Diana married my father in 1987. My parents had been divorced a few years at the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Diana has been the silent 'rock' in our family for years. She has been an example of love, patience, humility, graciousness, and every Christ-like attribute you can think of. She is also quite the 'lady.' She grew up in the era where women were ladies. They walked like ladies, talked like ladies, wore dresses instead of pants, submitted meekly to their husbands, and so forth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I grew very close to Diana (aka Nana, Mom) over the years. She and I would sit around for hours talking about stuff, life, and just more stuff. She is one of the sweetest women I know. She is also a great Nana to all our children...and there are a little more than 40. Even so, she shows love to each and everyone as if they were the only one. Lalelei has a special bond with her as well (and not just because she like to wear dresses everyday).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nana is still in the ICU, and we are looking forward to a healthy recovery. She is doing well, and we hope and pray that she will continue to do so. I love her dearly and can't imagine life without her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-3993836608267485833?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/3993836608267485833/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=3993836608267485833&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/3993836608267485833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/3993836608267485833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/04/nana.html' title='Nana'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SfowMStTdCI/AAAAAAAAAZI/9yyQcH_RRCA/s72-c/Nana,Papa+with+the+Hina+and+Lalelei.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-7083722568097893815</id><published>2009-04-29T15:05:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-29T15:10:19.810-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Sick!</title><content type='html'>Not me, my computer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has a virus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I click on a link and it sends me out to some random website that I did not intend to go to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Totally frustrated it is making me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The computer is as slow as molasses in the winter. It is interfering with all my blog stalking! The nerve!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried to leave comments on some blogs I read, but when I clicked the comment link....it sent me into some abyss. Ugh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll try again tomorrow, after my hubby gets it all fixed (I wonder if this has anything to do with the swine flu)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-7083722568097893815?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/7083722568097893815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=7083722568097893815&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/7083722568097893815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/7083722568097893815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/04/sick.html' title='Sick!'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-1697836997191914852</id><published>2009-04-27T15:40:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-27T16:22:14.355-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Confessions of A Daughter</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;With Mother's day quickly approaching, so do the feelings of guilt. Not JUST the guilt over my own short-comings as a mother, but also guilt over the way I treated my own mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mother and I were not very close. I guess there was a time when we shared some semblance of closeness...when I was younger, I remember my mother holding me when I was sick making me feel so much better. However, being the second oldest of eleven children, one-on-one attention was scarce. It seemed the more children my mother had, the further I drew away from her. I don't know why. Part of it might be the fact that we had to clean out the dirty cloth diapers...fun stuff. But seriously, as the years went on, my mother and I not only had a difference of opinion on everything, I just didn't like her much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was a bad, selfish, and ungrateful daughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In retrospect, unfortunately, I see all the wonderful things that my mother taught me and how she was a woman with her own set of troubles, trials, frustrations (me, for one). She was a super-talented musician and artist with hopes and dreams that she gave up for a family. And to have such a child as me...must have been a disappointment. But that is beside the point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She had her imperfections, as any person does, but as a children, sometimes we expect more from our parents. We view them as super-human as young ones and as we grow, we see their faults and we despise them for it (I know, I'm saying "we" when it should be just "me"....I'm dragging you all into my guilt - indulge me).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was impatient with my mother. I didn't want her around. I was mean at times. I'm embarrassed to admit this but it is true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mother tried to impart some of her musical talents her children. She would teach us to sing, play the piano, dance, write, and draw. I have many friends that are quite accomplished musicians because of my mother's teachings. She was more patient with them than with us, her children. I have a sister who totally turned away from piano in rebellion. I can understand better now her impatience. We were her children, children of such talent should have talent. We had talent, in areas where she didn't see just yet, like on the courts, fields, track, and in the classroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not writing this post to talk stink about my mother or to make any excuses for my bad behavior. I have realized, if &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;seemingly&lt;/span&gt; too late, that my mother, although not a perfect person, was the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;perfect mother for me&lt;/span&gt;. Her teachings are still in my heart. She read from the scriptures to us every morning, she taught me how to cook (she was an &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;excellent&lt;/span&gt; cook), I still know how to play the piano, she taught me to have faith, she taught me how to be more forgiving and how to humble myself to be forgiven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was blessed to have such a mother. My mother passed away a week before Tauivi in 2005. In her last moments, I had an epiphany. In those last quiet moments when we were alone in that ICU room, I learned that it is never too late to mend relationships with loved ones. Her lifeless body lay there on the bed, but I heard her voice in my head and in my mind's eye I could see her putting her arms around me saying, "all is forgiven, today is the day we start anew. Do not allow guilt to cast an ugly shadow over our love, our bond, as mother and daughter. I love you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So even though I am weak and I forget and I let guilt creep into my mind, I try to remember these words and better yet, the feelings I felt that day, that moment, confirmed by the Spirit, that repentance has been accepted and sins forgiven, better yet, forgotten. And it is my responsibility to be a better person and live a more faithful life because of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you mom. I love you too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-1697836997191914852?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/1697836997191914852/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=1697836997191914852&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/1697836997191914852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/1697836997191914852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/04/confessions-of-daughter.html' title='Confessions of A Daughter'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-2521164614689050294</id><published>2009-04-26T17:33:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-27T11:15:31.211-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Resolutions Revisted</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;With a one third of the year gone by (corrected thanks to my stinking husband...he thinks he's so funny-see comments), I have decided that I would check how I've been doing with the goals I set at the beginning of the year. Here they are:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;Spend 1/2 hour reading with kids (scriptures included)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;Lose (once and for all) 30 pounds (be healthier)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;Do Wasatch Back Run in June&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;Run Honolulu Marathon in December&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;Get into Nursing School&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;Be more dedicated to church responsibilities&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;Date night twice a month (with my husband, of course)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;How have I been doing? You are wondering....and the answer is:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;TERRIBLY!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Oh, wait a minute, it only says read 1/2 with kids...it doesn't say how often. So I guess I'm doing okay since I've read about half an hour with my kids since the beginning of the year. No, just kidding, it's been more than that. I read "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Frindle&lt;/span&gt;" with them out loud. It was a fun read. And &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;btw&lt;/span&gt;, I meant that reading goal to be a daily goal....need to do better with that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;I went on a bit of a roller coaster ride with this goal. First I gained weight, then I lost a good number, and then I nearly gained it all back. So I'm not doing as good with this goal either...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;June is not here yet (the race date) and the goal only states that I'd do the run, I made no time goals or anything like that. So I guess I'm doing awesome on this one, because I'm still in the running...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Training for this one doesn't start until later in the year....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;I have everything ready to turn in except for my transcripts from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;ASCC&lt;/span&gt; in Am. Samoa. My sister is supposed to be sending it to me. The deadline is May 15 and I asked her for it last month. Then there's the whole issue of getting &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;acc&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;epted&lt;/span&gt;. I have back up plans if I don't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;I think I'm doing good with this goal. I have only missed one Sunday this year and it was because my baby was sick. I make a point to always be there to fulfill my calling. So I'd say I'm doing really good on this goal (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;yay&lt;/span&gt;).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Sefo&lt;/span&gt; and I have not been going out on dates regularly. I think we've been on like 2 since the beginning of the year. So this goal needs more work as well...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Sad I am that I'm not doing better on these goals. But I sure am glad that I'm doing this check. I can still get back up, dust myself off, and re-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;commit&lt;/span&gt;. I know it's going to be a great year, you just watch (well, read). I'll tell you all about it!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How are you doing with your goals this year??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-2521164614689050294?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/2521164614689050294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=2521164614689050294&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/2521164614689050294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/2521164614689050294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/04/resolutions-revisted.html' title='Resolutions Revisted'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-4022309866712120939</id><published>2009-04-25T22:16:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-25T22:31:15.022-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Kaylene</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Here are some pictures of Kaylene, Candice and Leki's baby (and my niece). These were taken on Easter Sunday, also the day she was blessed. Of course I had to put up the picture of Lalelei with Kaylene, they are so adorable!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SfPh2RpPXNI/AAAAAAAAAY4/oLSK8XSkUmM/s1600-h/Candice+and+Kaylene.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 322px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SfPh2RpPXNI/AAAAAAAAAY4/oLSK8XSkUmM/s400/Candice+and+Kaylene.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328851106674990290" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SfPh2EDc3uI/AAAAAAAAAYw/pShZzMok-1c/s1600-h/Kaylene+and+Mommy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 364px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SfPh2EDc3uI/AAAAAAAAAYw/pShZzMok-1c/s400/Kaylene+and+Mommy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328851103026831074" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SfPh18wNKvI/AAAAAAAAAYo/-EQ7SDEABRs/s1600-h/Kaylene.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 371px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SfPh18wNKvI/AAAAAAAAAYo/-EQ7SDEABRs/s400/Kaylene.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328851101067062002" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SfPh1riDIRI/AAAAAAAAAYg/8IjuWgEMTlI/s1600-h/Lela+and+Kaylene.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 319px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SfPh1riDIRI/AAAAAAAAAYg/8IjuWgEMTlI/s400/Lela+and+Kaylene.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328851096444281106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;And yes, I would love to practice my photography skills with you and your children. Just leave me a flattering comment...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-4022309866712120939?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/4022309866712120939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=4022309866712120939&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/4022309866712120939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/4022309866712120939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/04/kaylene.html' title='Kaylene'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SfPh2RpPXNI/AAAAAAAAAY4/oLSK8XSkUmM/s72-c/Candice+and+Kaylene.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-6696560376585085067</id><published>2009-04-25T09:46:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-25T10:23:53.310-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Rewind, Erase</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Do you ever wish that you could rewind back to a day or a time and take out a magic eraser, and erase something dumb that you did or said?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;It's called regret....which goes hand in hand with guilt.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;It is also called a waste of time....since it is impossible to do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;You're probably wondering what 'event' in my life prompted this whole post. The list is endless. Once I start thinking about one regret, it leads to another, and another, and another, until I get either depressed or end it all with junk food....which triggers even more regret and guilt.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Vicious Cycle.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I was actually thinking about what I do to "erase" bad actions in my life. Like when I eat way too much sweets/junk food I usually try to exercise more. The problem being that I have a hard time catching up with all the bad eating....then I start hearing voices in my head telling me that it is impossible and it makes me want to give up on exercise....when I should give up the junk instead. DUH!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Or when I've said something I regret to my kids, like when I told Lalelei that she was ugly because she butchered her hair. To 'erase' those words, I tell her a million times a day that she is beautiful, and that her hair is beautiful...hoping that the previous words have disappeared forever...until I say the next mean thing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Regret. Guilt.......... Repent. Mistakes/self-loathing/bad behavior/mean words. Regret. Guilt.............. Repent.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;This is the cycle of life, mine anyways.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-6696560376585085067?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/6696560376585085067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=6696560376585085067&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/6696560376585085067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/6696560376585085067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/04/rewind-erase.html' title='Rewind, Erase'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-8066611980621016994</id><published>2009-04-23T08:42:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-25T11:13:48.575-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><title type='text'>Christian And Hueina</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SfB-ojK7h0I/AAAAAAAAAX4/5I_plFUg06U/s1600-h/Hueina+and+Christian+collage.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SfB-ojK7h0I/AAAAAAAAAX4/5I_plFUg06U/s400/Hueina+and+Christian+collage.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327897594280249154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Christian is my sister, Lisa May's, son. He was born in March of 1998, six months before Hueina. It seems that from the git-go, Hueina and Christian have been best of buddies. When we moved to the desert in 2000, they were instant partners. Christian always held her hand when they went places (they were only 2 years old, you wouldn't catch them doing that now). Late in 2001, my sister and her family moved to Samoa. That separation didn't seem to affect these two at all. Every time we went to visit Samoa, Hueina and Christian would pick up right where they left off,  not missing a step. They laugh and play and are a couple of the craziest cousins you ever seen. Christian inspires the best in Hueina and Hueina is the only girl that Christian will hang out with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christian now lives a mere 3 1/2 hours away and we get together as often as possible. As soon as we do, these two are at it, playing fun games, telling weird jokes, and just being them. They are inseparable. Like twins.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, there is the little issue of BYU vs Utah....but even that rivalry doesn't get in the way of their friendship/bond.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope they continue to be best of friends and that they will help each other out in the rough times that always comes with age.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-8066611980621016994?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/8066611980621016994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=8066611980621016994&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/8066611980621016994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/8066611980621016994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/04/christian-and-hueina.html' title='Christian And Hueina'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SfB-ojK7h0I/AAAAAAAAAX4/5I_plFUg06U/s72-c/Hueina+and+Christian+collage.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-1943999479291117561</id><published>2009-04-22T16:20:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-25T11:13:48.575-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/Se-ZgCSqCSI/AAAAAAAAATU/w5aG-lM1xX8/s1600-h/Plum+Blossom2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 230px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/Se-ZgCSqCSI/AAAAAAAAATU/w5aG-lM1xX8/s400/Plum+Blossom2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327645659852572962" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;When Tauivi and my mother passed away, a week apart in March of 2005, Sefo and I decided to plant trees to honor their memory. We bought a decorative plum for Tauivi and a decorative pear for my mom. We planted the plum in our front yard and the pear in the back. The plum seemed to take quite easily, while we had a little bit of a problem with the pear....it broke in half (the top part just snapped off). We thought that the pear was a goner, but it stuck around and grew from the lowly stump. Here are a couple of pictures of the blossoms from these two treees. They are both doing quite well....which in itself is a miracle. The memories live on through our little trees that will blossom each year giving us hope of a happier time when we will be reunited at the Savior's feet. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/Se-ZER5HtnI/AAAAAAAAATM/YVwek96R-iQ/s1600-h/Pear+Blossom2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 388px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/Se-ZER5HtnI/AAAAAAAAATM/YVwek96R-iQ/s400/Pear+Blossom2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327645183004096114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-1943999479291117561?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/1943999479291117561/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=1943999479291117561&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/1943999479291117561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/1943999479291117561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/04/when-tauivi-and-my-mother-passed-away.html' title=''/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/Se-ZgCSqCSI/AAAAAAAAATU/w5aG-lM1xX8/s72-c/Plum+Blossom2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-1695377971127640720</id><published>2009-04-22T10:54:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-25T11:21:27.278-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><title type='text'>WHAT THE HAIR???</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;It's been three weeks and 4 days since the fateful event. Only now do I have the strength to blog about it. On Saturday, March 28, I went to work early in the morning. It was a long 10 hour shift. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/Se9Mr_D1X-I/AAAAAAAAAS0/Q9yCA-N12mE/s1600-h/Lalelei+and+her+hair.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 307px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/Se9Mr_D1X-I/AAAAAAAAAS0/Q9yCA-N12mE/s320/Lalelei+and+her+hair.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327561202748186594" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/Se9Mrzd1SsI/AAAAAAAAASs/L4opDAbXOBA/s1600-h/Perfect+hair.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 227px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/Se9Mrzd1SsI/AAAAAAAAASs/L4opDAbXOBA/s320/Perfect+hair.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327561199636007618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;After work, I called Sefo and he and the kids were at Carl's Jr. So I went over to meet them there. When I got to Carl's Jr I went straight into the play area where Sefo was sitting at a table with baby and the kids were playing on that big indoor apparatus.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/Se9MrnfbXJI/AAAAAAAAASk/iSYsU4C8lXw/s1600-h/Lela+hair.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 228px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/Se9MrnfbXJI/AAAAAAAAASk/iSYsU4C8lXw/s320/Lela+hair.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327561196421471378" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;Out of the corner of my eye, I see this little boy wearing Lalelei's dress. I thought that was a little weird. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/Se9MraOGDkI/AAAAAAAAASc/xbwKlQ8eIQw/s1600-h/Happy+Birthday+to+Me.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 130px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/Se9MraOGDkI/AAAAAAAAASc/xbwKlQ8eIQw/s320/Happy+Birthday+to+Me.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327561192859110978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;Then it hit me. That little boy was MY Lalelei!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;She butchered her beautiful locks!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/Se9PI8vVWaI/AAAAAAAAAS8/XL8GQsbDpAs/s1600-h/IMG_0405.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/Se9PI8vVWaI/AAAAAAAAAS8/XL8GQsbDpAs/s320/IMG_0405.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327563899364792738" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;It is a very good thing for Sefo and the rest of the kids that we were in a public place. If my looks could kill, everyone in the restaurant would be dead. But I'm still in mourning. I will be in mourning until her hair grows back. Even Lalelei finally realized the error of her ways. When I was posting the pictures of her long hair on this blog, she said to me, "mama, that's when my hair was perfect."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;And I said, "yes."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;ps. I know I'm not going to win any "mother of the year" awards anytime soon....or ever. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;br /&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/803496924765809718-1695377971127640720?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/1695377971127640720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=1695377971127640720&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/1695377971127640720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/1695377971127640720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/04/what-hair.html' title='WHAT THE HAIR???'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/Se9Mr_D1X-I/AAAAAAAAAS0/Q9yCA-N12mE/s72-c/Lalelei+and+her+hair.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-6406992451716506970</id><published>2009-04-21T08:59:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-21T09:15:21.075-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Saying Goodbye</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;My dear friend and cousin, Dee, has just lost a brother to cancer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her brother's name is John. He has a twin brother. He was 36 years old. He passed away on April 18 in Hawaii.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met Dee as freshmen at BYU Hawaii in 1985. She and I played on the volleyball team. When we first met, we found out that we were related. Being away from immediate family, her family, that lived in Kaneohe at the time, became mine. I spent weekends at their apartment and have fond memories of a wonderfully close family. They shared love that permeated that small apartment. I was always impressed by their faith in Jesus Christ which they openly professed with love and adoration.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is because of this faith, that I know their hearts will be healed from the loss of John at such a young age. I know that their faith has only increased as they endured the trials of John's illness and that it will continue to grow. I know they will find peace. I know this, because that is what true faith in Jesus Christ affords.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also know that they hurt. I know that their hearts are broken. There is no avoiding or denying the pain. My heart aches for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amidst all the duties of the day, I pause and remember John and the Lili'o family. I send my love and prayers and hope for a better day for them as they mourn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That day will come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-6406992451716506970?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/6406992451716506970/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=6406992451716506970&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/6406992451716506970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/6406992451716506970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/04/saying-goodbye.html' title='Saying Goodbye'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-4366177882139317706</id><published>2009-04-21T08:45:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-21T08:58:47.200-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Do It</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;When there's a lag in my blogging routine, it is so hard to get back going again. It's just that so many things happen and I want to blog about it all but just don't know where to start. I gotta JUST do IT! So here goes....a hodge-podge-blog:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt; We had spring break last week and went down south to St. George to hang out with my sister and her family. We left Orem and it was raining/snowing. There was a good storm going on up here and the kids and I were giggling because we thought we were heading to MUCH warmer weather. Well, it wasn't exactly as warm as we thought it should have been...for a couple of days. But the kids still had a great time and I had a few 'ah-ha' moments that I will share with you later&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;We came home to a nicely painted living room. I picked the color out before I left for St. George. The color was called "pacific pine." On the sample card it appeared to be a light green, but I wanted something a little darker, but settled on it anyway. Well, the paint turned out to be exactly the color I wanted, a little darker than on the sample card.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;I may be starting a new job soon....details coming soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;The weather is just heavenly!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;I spent $36 on $120 worth of groceries. I LOVE couponing!! My pantry is getting so full and I actually have some food storage....finally!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's more, but my mind is blank right now...surprise, surprise. Oh, I have tons of pics to share, so stay tuned for that as well. Alrighty! I did it!! I feel so much better now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have a great day!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-4366177882139317706?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/4366177882139317706/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=4366177882139317706&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/4366177882139317706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/4366177882139317706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/04/just-do-it.html' title='Just Do It'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-9006467349016897050</id><published>2009-04-14T20:23:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T20:34:00.640-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Parting Is Such Sweet Sorrow</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Last week we said goodbye to an old friend, our 1985 Toyota Camry. We bought it in California in 2000. It only had 75,000 miles on it. It was such a good car for us and saw us through some tough times. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SeVFbf_vH7I/AAAAAAAAASU/pFPiiSHBHgc/s1600-h/Camry.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 216px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SeVFbf_vH7I/AAAAAAAAASU/pFPiiSHBHgc/s320/Camry.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324738473183092658" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;For months, actually, almost 2 years, the Camry has been sitting in our carport after Zeke blew out the engine. We didn't have the money to replace it and of course the repairs would cost more than what the car was worth....in terms of money anyway....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SeVFbJZ2crI/AAAAAAAAASM/H-61P2Zt6Qc/s1600-h/Camry+driver%27s+side.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 216px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SeVFbJZ2crI/AAAAAAAAASM/H-61P2Zt6Qc/s320/Camry+driver%27s+side.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324738467118609074" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;So after all this time, we finally said goodbye....we donated it to Kidney Kars. Hopefully it can be put to some good for the organization.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SeVFayJp1MI/AAAAAAAAASE/23_QjGZXG0Q/s1600-h/Camry+interior.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 216px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SeVFayJp1MI/AAAAAAAAASE/23_QjGZXG0Q/s320/Camry+interior.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324738460876657858" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;I wish I had a cool story to tell you about our dear Camry. But I don't. All I have to share is that it was a reliable car and would have lasted us forever, if it was not improperly used. We seriously thought we were going to be driving it around into our old age (which coincidentally would be NOW...ha!) But as life goes, things don't always work out the way one plans. A lesson our family has been privileged to learn many times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goodbye dear Camry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-9006467349016897050?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/9006467349016897050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=9006467349016897050&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/9006467349016897050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/9006467349016897050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/04/parting-is-such-sweet-sorrow.html' title='Parting Is Such Sweet Sorrow'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SeVFbf_vH7I/AAAAAAAAASU/pFPiiSHBHgc/s72-c/Camry.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-8066783868352573216</id><published>2009-04-10T08:24:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T14:33:27.512-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Paying It Forward</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Last night I had a dream about Wayne. Yes, of Wayne and Mary, the cute young couple with the two little girls.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;In fact Wayne is the only part of my dream that I can recall.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;*I know this is a strange way to start a post, telling of a dream I had about another woman's husband. But just hold your horses, I'm getting to the point....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my dream Wayne was sitting at a table in the cultural hall of the church. I came over to the table, sat down, and we started talking. I told him that I heard a rumor that he was going to medical school at the University of Utah. Wayne got a little bashful and quietly admitted that he was going to attend the U. Then the dream gets all fuzzy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;*Are you still there? Because I'm getting to the point...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if any of the dream is true, about where Wayne is going to go to medical school. But I have a feeling he would be a bit bashful about going to the U since he is a former BYU football player and I imagine the rivalry runs strong in his blood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, the dream got me thinking about Wayne and Mary. I adore and admire these two. Both are incredibly talented in the arts (Wayne will be playing a beautiful piano arrangement at my funeral...but doesn't know it yet. And Mary is dancing at the after-funeral-party...she is also unaware of her commitment). And I'm sure they are talented in a lot of other areas, but you see, I don't know them all to well, yet. But I do know that they are both from incredible families and always have a sunny disposition. They have had their share of challenges the most recent (that I know of) being the health of their second daughter, Kina, at birth. Their example of faith is inspiring and I'm sure will get them successfully through their future trials. Wayne and Mary are fun-loving and full of youthful exuberance. Just seeing them makes me smile. And my association with them encourages me to be a better person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;*And the point is...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you ever spend time thinking about someone and having a warm feeling while doing so? Do you keep it to yourself or do you share it - with another person or dare to share it with the object of your musings? I usually keep it to myself and that other person never knows how I feel about them. Until today....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my challenge to you is to share a good feeling you have about another person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that, my friends, is my version of 'Paying it Forward.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-8066783868352573216?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/8066783868352573216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=8066783868352573216&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/8066783868352573216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/8066783868352573216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/04/paying-it-forward.html' title='Paying It Forward'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-9002435455861494193</id><published>2009-04-09T18:41:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T19:08:40.326-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Saving Money'/><title type='text'>Loving It!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I love all the comments on my previous post about saving money via couponing. Since I have found that most of you are not couponing yet, I want to offer as much help as I can to get you started. But before I start, I have to gloat.....I went shopping again today and spent $40 on $180 worth of groceries!! Holy Cow!! I'm so &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;loving &lt;/span&gt;this!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and I have to address another thing. As much as I am loving all this spending-less-for-more, I won't be posting any pictures of my loot as my cousin Sepa suggested....I have my reasons. Besides, I know you all believe me without picture documentation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so here goes.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've posted some links on the right hand side of this post (thanks Sepa for the additional links). &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;READ&lt;/span&gt; them....and watch the little video clips on the Savvy Shopper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In essence:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;You need to get Sunday papers. It is recommended that you have one paper per individual in your family - and yes, babies are individuals.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Organize your coupons. There are two ways to do it. Either the binder or the hanging file box. The binder requires that you buy baseball card holders (I like the ones from target), tabbed dividers, and sheet protectors (there are other things that you can get, but these are all I'm using right now and it still works). *It is suggested that the binder be a zipper binder. The binder system requires you to clip your coupons on Sunday. The hanging file box system only requires you to date the coupon packets and file accordingly. You clip the coupons when you need to use them.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sign up for email updates from Savvy Shopper (Utah), and other websites that will give you a heads up on the sales and the coupons that can be used. Grocery Smarts is another one. I use both just to make sure I'm not missing anything. These websites help you to create shopping lists and help you to know which coupons to use, and they help to explain in store specials and so forth.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Don't be afraid to ask questions...the grocery stocker at the local Albertson is becoming very acquainted with me and all my questions...&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Another thing you need to remember is, that you must surrender your will to the Coupon-Sales Gods. In other words, you don't go couponing with your own shopping list in mind. For the best of the bestest of the bestestest deals, you have to buy what's on a great sale AND has a coupon to go along with it. That means that you will be building your pantry and food storage at the same time. Be patient, what you really want will eventually come on sale and as time goes by, your pantry/storage will be so stacked that you will want for nothing...but more and more free stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know all of this can seem overwhelming, but once you get going, you will see the fruits of your savings and you can go out and buy more shoes and clothes! Ha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will be available to answer any questions and I will be happy to go with you to the store to get the stuff you need to get started...yes, very happy to go to the store in Kaneohe with Ashleigh or in NZ with Leise, very, very happy. So email me at ipo.tauivismom at gmail dot com, if you want extra help. Seriously, you have to do this!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if we get enough people together, we might be able to start our own blog or something. This would be a great way to share unposted finds, because I've noticed that when I go out shopping, sometimes I see things that are better deals than I find on the websites...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Start Today!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-9002435455861494193?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/9002435455861494193/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=9002435455861494193&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/9002435455861494193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/9002435455861494193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/04/loving-it.html' title='Loving It!!'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-811238678045655657</id><published>2009-04-06T21:28:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-25T11:23:51.982-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Saving Money'/><title type='text'>My New Favorite Word</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Free!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;A few weeks ago, Sefo and I decided that we were going to try out couponing. We had heard so many good things about it, you know the stories of people walking out of grocery stores with a mile long receipt and cartloads of food for a small fraction of the cost. So I did some homework and found some websites that help you with sales, what coupons to use, and yes, even grocery lists.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We bought a few issues of the Sunday paper and started clipping coupons. It can be tedious, but if it was working for so many people, we had to try.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So last week was my first "baby-step." I went to Smith's with a few coupons in hand and got $27 worth of food for $10. Not too bad for my first time out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I went out a little more prepared and got $105 worth of groceries for $11. No, I did not stutter....that's E-L-E-V-E-N DOLLARS!! A few items were free after the coupons. WOW!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so excited. I have found myself ANOTHER new hobby!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I encourage all of you to get on board if you're not, I mean EVERYONE eats, so you're going to be spending money on food....why not spend a lot less??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do it! And come bask with me in the sunshine of my new favorite word:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;FREE!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-811238678045655657?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/811238678045655657/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=811238678045655657&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/811238678045655657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/811238678045655657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/04/my-new-favorite-word.html' title='My New Favorite Word'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-1735334239215253456</id><published>2009-04-03T09:59:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-25T11:13:48.575-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><title type='text'>There's a Monster in Our Basement!</title><content type='html'>My husband moved the kids downstairs to the basement. So every morning we have to descend the stairs to wake them up for school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the kids are getting up, I'm usually in the shower getting ready for the day (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;usually. &lt;/span&gt;As you might have read yesterday, I sent them off to school from the comforts of my bed).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I'm in the bathroom, there is always the knock on the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I answer the knock with, "what?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the reply is always, "I need to use the bathroom."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My reply, "there is a bathroom downstairs, why didn't you use that one?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The answer, "but I need to use the bathroom."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And mine, "you mean you walked past the bathroom by your room, walked all the way up the stairs, just to use this one?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The never-changing reply, "but I need to use the bathroom."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Out of sheer irritation, I leave. If I hear that answer one more time, I might hurt someone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my conclusion is that there is a monster in our basement. It lives in our bathroom...specifically in the toilet. If you sprinkle any sort of body fluids on it, the monster will reach up, grab you, and take you down to it's lair in the U-bend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stay tuned for pictures of the monster as photography is my new hobby...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-1735334239215253456?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/1735334239215253456/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=1735334239215253456&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/1735334239215253456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/1735334239215253456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/04/theres-monster-in-our-basement.html' title='There&apos;s a Monster in Our Basement!'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-1302314331817829432</id><published>2009-04-02T20:17:00.008-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-25T11:24:25.317-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Photography'/><title type='text'>Starting A New Hobby!</title><content type='html'>Okay, so I got out of bed after all. It was a slow start to the day, but tapped into the true Source of strength and look what I accomplished today...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sun was out for a little bit today, and it was actually warm. Since I'm trying to convince my husband that I need a new hobby-photography, I seized the opportunity to take the kids out and shoot them. Ha! I used two different cameras.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SdV405ToaOI/AAAAAAAAARs/kxoLbZ4V0Q8/s1600-h/Seriously.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SdV405ToaOI/AAAAAAAAARs/kxoLbZ4V0Q8/s400/Seriously.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320291384939800802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Zeus has the 'look' already&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SdV40z7yA7I/AAAAAAAAARk/dYNxOOy7a4c/s1600-h/gq+zeus.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 272px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SdV40z7yA7I/AAAAAAAAARk/dYNxOOy7a4c/s400/gq+zeus.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320291383497589682" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;That's with a capital Z&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SdV40msJhLI/AAAAAAAAARc/UW-kbZkMiP4/s1600-h/Zeus+and+Hueina.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 305px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SdV40msJhLI/AAAAAAAAARc/UW-kbZkMiP4/s400/Zeus+and+Hueina.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320291379942360242" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Big Sis and the Chuggs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SdV3G83leQI/AAAAAAAAARU/z6U75Mhv0_A/s1600-h/Beautiful+Lalelei.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 231px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SdV3G83leQI/AAAAAAAAARU/z6U75Mhv0_A/s400/Beautiful+Lalelei.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320289496110299394" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Miss Lalelei&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SdV3Gtt8ohI/AAAAAAAAARM/CQLZUaHWQog/s1600-h/Beautiful+baby+Zeus.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SdV3Gtt8ohI/AAAAAAAAARM/CQLZUaHWQog/s400/Beautiful+baby+Zeus.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320289492043342354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Mr. Zeus/Milky&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SdV3GiPcuVI/AAAAAAAAARE/81JeqJceCoQ/s1600-h/Zeus+pushing+Lalelei.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 340px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SdV3GiPcuVI/AAAAAAAAARE/81JeqJceCoQ/s400/Zeus+pushing+Lalelei.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320289488962632018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Zeus taking care of business&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SdV3GTyslSI/AAAAAAAAAQ8/pvkBQo0eOBs/s1600-h/Pretty+in+pink.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SdV3GTyslSI/AAAAAAAAAQ8/pvkBQo0eOBs/s400/Pretty+in+pink.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320289485083940130" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Did someone say 'pink?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SdV3GNMAHUI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/6mPfh2jKwbg/s1600-h/Big+Boy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 275px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SdV3GNMAHUI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/6mPfh2jKwbg/s400/Big+Boy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320289483311029570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Gotta start them young&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;The SLR camera I used was not digital, so I had to be conservative with the shots. I didn't do that great and ended up with only a few pics on two rolls that I thought were any good....in my unprofessional opinion anyway. The little digital camera I used, gave me a lot more pics that I thought were descent because I could take as many shots as I wanted. Today is my first day. I want to take &lt;a href="http://thesummerillsurf.blogspot.com/2009/02/photography-classes-for-march.html"&gt;Erin Summerill's photography 101&lt;/a&gt; class, I mean I really need to take it. I just don't have the moolah right now...I'll catch the next one...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ps. the first four pics were taken with the digital camera. the rest were taken with the slr.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-1302314331817829432?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/1302314331817829432/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=1302314331817829432&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/1302314331817829432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/1302314331817829432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/04/starting-new-hobby.html' title='Starting A New Hobby!'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SdV405ToaOI/AAAAAAAAARs/kxoLbZ4V0Q8/s72-c/Seriously.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-4606325899920842437</id><published>2009-04-02T09:11:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-02T09:27:31.023-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Bi-Polar or Just Lazy</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"&gt;April Fool's Day is over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The comic-relief has run it's course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I don't want to get out of bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weather is making me do it. It's cold and dreary outside. From my point of view, it's ugly....gray, dead, cold, dreary, and plain uninviting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sent my kids off to school from bed. Sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My alarm clock went off and I turned it off, missing my early morning workout.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are homemade cookies and brownies in the kitchen and if I go in there, I will eat them. All.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can I lock myself in my room? Just for today?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bi-polar you may say....sad-mourning post one day/2 funny foolish posts the next/then sad depressed post the day next....maybe?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No. I'm getting up. I'm not bi-polar, I'm really not depressed, maybe a little lazy and defeated by the weather. But I am getting up. Someone's got to take care of the little ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"&gt;I'll just eat a brownie to get going! Okay, AFTER morning prayer...to tap into the real Source of strength.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-4606325899920842437?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/4606325899920842437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=4606325899920842437&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/4606325899920842437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/4606325899920842437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/04/bi-polar-or-just-lazy.html' title='Bi-Polar or Just Lazy'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-9131745029299307591</id><published>2009-04-01T23:09:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T23:18:50.769-06:00</updated><title type='text'>April Fool, Again</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SdRIuvCDs6I/AAAAAAAAAQs/_h14KVURU1Y/s1600-h/april+fool2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 116px; height: 121px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SdRIuvCDs6I/AAAAAAAAAQs/_h14KVURU1Y/s400/april+fool2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319957027567678370" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;So when is this day going to end?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got all dressed to go to the gym, again, because I've been trying to get to this pump class that's on Monday and Wednesday nights. It is so hard to go to the gym at 7pm, but I heard this class was really good and I know the instructor and she has a great body....So tonight was the night. This time, I took off my fake eyelashes, because I know you were wondering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I got to the gym and met up with another instructor who was leaving the gym and she said that the pump teacher (with the great body) just got a boob job so she probably wasn't going to be in class. hmmmm. My first reaction was, "another one bites the dust." But only in my head. My second reaction was, "forget this, I'm not staying if she's not teaching." I just left the gym and went to Walmart instead. Ha! Can you believe it?! I can't!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fooled myself again today!! Ha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I so deserve the title, I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-9131745029299307591?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/9131745029299307591/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=9131745029299307591&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/9131745029299307591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/9131745029299307591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/04/april-fool-again.html' title='April Fool, Again'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SdRIuvCDs6I/AAAAAAAAAQs/_h14KVURU1Y/s72-c/april+fool2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-8544258813265723496</id><published>2009-04-01T15:00:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T15:14:15.497-06:00</updated><title type='text'>April Fool</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SdPWKd3LEtI/AAAAAAAAAQk/zfWo-VnAQI0/s1600-h/april-fool-illus.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 355px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SdPWKd3LEtI/AAAAAAAAAQk/zfWo-VnAQI0/s400/april-fool-illus.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319831060157764306" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;On this date, April 1, 2009, I officially name myself the "April Fool."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning, I woke up at 6am and got ready for work. I arranged earlier in the week for my sister, MJ to come down and watch my kids and my parents were coming down a little later to take over. I had all my bases covered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, MJ showed up early and I got myself all done up for work...make-up, fake eyelashes, hair done right, dressed and ready to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get into the car after scraping snow off my windows....it put me a little behind on my schedule, but I was still going to be on time. As I was driving down the street, I decided to pull out my calendar and see what I had going on for the rest of the week. To my surprise, I was not scheduled to work today after all. I'm scheduled to work NEXT Wednesday. I called work just to make sure...I didn't want to show up to work and 'april fool' myself in front of the ER staff. Sure enough, I didn't have to work. Ha. Ha. ha. ha. ha....yeah, not funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I called my sister MJ and my parents and said, "um, April Fools?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm wondering, if you pull an April Fool's Day prank on yourself and you totally are surprised by it, do you win the April Fool of the Year Award or what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or am I just an idiot?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Probably the second.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-8544258813265723496?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/8544258813265723496/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=8544258813265723496&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/8544258813265723496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/8544258813265723496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/04/april-fool.html' title='April Fool'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SdPWKd3LEtI/AAAAAAAAAQk/zfWo-VnAQI0/s72-c/april-fool-illus.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-6597266845688381996</id><published>2009-03-31T05:00:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-25T11:13:48.575-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><title type='text'>Tauivi Usaia  July 17, 2002 - March 31, 2005</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SdGVU8Yu9KI/AAAAAAAAAQU/ea2lzGce_WI/s1600-h/with+aunties.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 301px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SdGVU8Yu9KI/AAAAAAAAAQU/ea2lzGce_WI/s400/with+aunties.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319196821941056674" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Aunties Mitzi, Lisa May, and Mary Jo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SdGVU4UdPII/AAAAAAAAAQM/Apl2zvp5D9o/s1600-h/dressed+in+white.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 301px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SdGVU4UdPII/AAAAAAAAAQM/Apl2zvp5D9o/s400/dressed+in+white.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319196820849376386" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Handsome all dressed in white&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SdGVUkU27yI/AAAAAAAAAQE/pse3wDgKAxk/s1600-h/ready.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 301px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SdGVUkU27yI/AAAAAAAAAQE/pse3wDgKAxk/s400/ready.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319196815482351394" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;If you have the time, watch the video below and remember Tauivi with us today. Please be patient with the writing in the middle of the screen, it doesn't last throughout the whole video, I'm just not very tech savvy....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-8b0fac43c78afb49" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v18.nonxt3.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D8b0fac43c78afb49%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1330146074%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D394F8B3B12354D70B27035992E46CBA64AC10439.6D00527E67FDCF50FF0A602F9145B1C7F723D0EE%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D8b0fac43c78afb49%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D1BoLoqbd32FpZvC5Wz2nytq8GIQ&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v18.nonxt3.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D8b0fac43c78afb49%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1330146074%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D394F8B3B12354D70B27035992E46CBA64AC10439.6D00527E67FDCF50FF0A602F9145B1C7F723D0EE%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D8b0fac43c78afb49%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D1BoLoqbd32FpZvC5Wz2nytq8GIQ&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We love and miss you, Bubba.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-6597266845688381996?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=8b0fac43c78afb49&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/6597266845688381996/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=6597266845688381996&amp;isPopup=true' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/6597266845688381996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/6597266845688381996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/03/tauivi-usaia-july-17-2002-march-31-2005.html' title='Tauivi Usaia  July 17, 2002 - March 31, 2005'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SdGVU8Yu9KI/AAAAAAAAAQU/ea2lzGce_WI/s72-c/with+aunties.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-6774016788728007110</id><published>2009-03-30T08:17:00.009-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-25T11:13:48.576-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><title type='text'>One Sunny Warm Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SdDn6ygAV-I/AAAAAAAAAP8/MEunnt-PJ28/s1600-h/Spring+2009+Family.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SdDn6ygAV-I/AAAAAAAAAP8/MEunnt-PJ28/s400/Spring+2009+Family.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319006157098997730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;We had a nice sunny day last week. Above is a collage I made of that single day. As I woke to inches of snow on the ground this morning, I had to remind myself that winter doesn't last forever....only the duration of the winter and spring months...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Warmth and heat will soon be here! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-6774016788728007110?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/6774016788728007110/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=6774016788728007110&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/6774016788728007110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/6774016788728007110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/03/one-sunny-warm-day.html' title='One Sunny Warm Day'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SdDn6ygAV-I/AAAAAAAAAP8/MEunnt-PJ28/s72-c/Spring+2009+Family.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-5730943008397447619</id><published>2009-03-27T10:13:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-27T11:20:10.674-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Cravings</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;What do you crave? When your hormones are raging because of your impending monthly visitor, what do you want the most? When you're pregnant, do you crave a certain food? What do you reward yourself with when you reach a goal or just want to give yourself a little something for a job well done? What do your cravings encompass?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are the answers to the above questions any of the following:&lt;br /&gt;  ~raw vegetables&lt;br /&gt;  ~whole grain, sugar free baked goods&lt;br /&gt;  ~fresh fruits&lt;br /&gt;  ~exercise&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For me, none of the above apply (well, exercise only as explained below).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I usually look for something chocolatey, gooey, sweet, with lots of simple refined sugar, white flour, fried rather than baked. I do exercise, and sort of crave it, but primarily because I can't control my other cravings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It makes me wonder, why is it so much harder to cultivate healthy-good-for-your-body-and-mind habits than it is to have bad-make-you-miserable habits. One would think that if it's good for your overall well being, than it would be a sure hit in the addiction department. But it's not. Instead, the term addiction is used in reference to things that are usually harmful to you.....drugs, sweets, fried foods, soda, couch potatoness, etc...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a lot of work to take care of one's body. A lot. I would like to wake up one morning, excited to get out and run 5+ miles, come home and CRAVE only healthy foods and productivity. I know that there are many people who have mastered their addictions to default to a healthy lifestyle. But then there are the rest of us (and you know who you are), that are still working at it. Working at taking care of their bodies, their temples.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keep up the good work and keep hope alive!! One day we'll all be craving celery sticks....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-5730943008397447619?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/5730943008397447619/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=5730943008397447619&amp;isPopup=true' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/5730943008397447619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/5730943008397447619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/03/cravings.html' title='Cravings'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-9122904652885571471</id><published>2009-03-25T07:54:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T11:45:22.650-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Spring Snow</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/Sco9sYDC0HI/AAAAAAAAAOc/kLzIZ3ZtiLA/s1600-h/maunakea_snow_coconut_leaf.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/Sco9sYDC0HI/AAAAAAAAAOc/kLzIZ3ZtiLA/s400/maunakea_snow_coconut_leaf.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317130142643048562" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I really tried to hold my tongue. When I got up on Monday morning there was snow on the ground, on my car, staring me in the face. I really tried. I didn't want to post yet more whining on how the cold weather adversely affects my mood, eating habits, sense of well-being, and tv watching. I tried, I did. But.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning, here it is again. More snow. It's cold. I miss the 70 degree weather of last week. I miss my Sun Hugs. I think I just gained 2 pounds staring at the snow from my window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In light of this snowy day, I would like to take this opportunity to show you where snow belongs in my life. Here is a picture of Mauna Kea on the Big Island. Yes, it is snow-capped. But I assure you that the person who took this photo is in a t-shirt and shorts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the Big Island, you can have the best of all the climates. It is rainy and wet in Hilo. In Kona it is sunny and dry. On Mauna Kea, you can play in the snow. I have fond memories of wrapping up in layers of t-shirts and pants, we didn't own coats or boots (swimming suits underneath it all). We (my siblings and cousins) would pile up in a vehicle with tons of snacks and head up to Mauna Kea. At the snowy top, we would make snowmen, have snow ball fights, roll down the snowy hills, and enjoy the sunny cold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the snow fun was done (usually about an hour or so), we piled back into our vehicle and headed down the mountain. Down to the warm weather. Down to the beach. All the while stripping off layers of clothing. Then finally hitting the sandy beaches. Soaking up the sun and warmth and enjoying the warm water. We stayed for hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the way it should be. The snow has it's place, yes. But one should always have the option to drive down to the beach(in the same day).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No wonder why it's called Paradise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-9122904652885571471?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/9122904652885571471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=9122904652885571471&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/9122904652885571471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/9122904652885571471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/03/snow.html' title='Spring Snow'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/Sco9sYDC0HI/AAAAAAAAAOc/kLzIZ3ZtiLA/s72-c/maunakea_snow_coconut_leaf.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-5679228404138369915</id><published>2009-03-23T13:10:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T22:12:09.842-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Door</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Do you have parts of  your life that you are afraid to expose to the world? Do you secretly battle addictions, fantasies, unfulfilled dreams, bad behavior, self-loathing, and so on?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I Do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A part of me wants to talk about some of these things. But I'm afraid. I'm afraid to expose myself on the world wide web. Afraid of sharing too much information. Afraid of hurting loved ones. Afraid of what others will think of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm afraid of opening &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now that your curiosity is raging, I have to share. This is one example of what lies behind &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; door. I sometimes feel like I don't belong. In church. Sometimes I get this overwhelming feeling that I'm not worthy, that my efforts are just not good enough, that I really don't make the cut. Sometimes I feel that if I did a little better at this, or did more of that, or served a little more here, or paid more there, or participated in this, or volunteered for that, then, then I would belong. If only.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;then&lt;/span&gt; I would be the brimming-to-the-rim-with-joy-mother at her son's missionary farewell. Or the humbled-and-ever-so-grateful-and-in-awe-of-miracles mother who has a child that is miraculously brought back from death's grasp. Or even the behind-every-good-man-is-a-great-woman-wife who's husband has been called into certain positions (yup, I went there, because behind &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;that &lt;/span&gt;door is where you find these kind of things).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead, I am the mother who sits in church stewing in regret and guilt over her 21 year old drug-addict-son. The mother who after years of fasting and prayer has to bury her child. And the wife who is apparently holding her husband back from his true potential (ouch).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now before you click off and start calling me all kinds of names that have to do with having little faith, let me finish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I DO know better. I do know that things happen for a reason. I understand free-agency. I know that miracles happen in many different shapes and forms. I know that sometimes the answer to prayers is No. I know that church is not exclusively for the perfect. I know. I know. I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's just that sometimes, behind &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;that &lt;/span&gt;door, I feel all sorts of things. And now that you've had a peak at what lies behind &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; door, you might agree with me that it's best kept closed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-5679228404138369915?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/5679228404138369915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=5679228404138369915&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/5679228404138369915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/5679228404138369915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/03/door.html' title='The Door'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-6834507502338962713</id><published>2009-03-21T09:35:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-22T10:53:36.161-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunny-Warm Weather Puppet</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;I am a Sunny-Warm Weather Puppet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;I used to think that the "Winter Blues" was just an excuse for lazy people. I really didn't understand why people got depressed during the long cold winter months. I mean, can the weather really affect your sense of well-being? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;YES, IT CAN.....AND DOES.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;Since I have been living in Utah all these years, I have noticed a pattern in my own life. At first I didn't pay attention, but this past winter I had an epiphany (wow)! I spent most of the winter with the curtains closed. I didn't want to look outside. It didn't matter if it was sunny because it was &lt;a href="http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/03/tricksy.html"&gt;tricksy&lt;/a&gt;. I didn't want to have to face the cold, so I stayed indoors and kept the outside out. I parked myself on my couch and watched tv endlessly.....shamefully. Feeding my face. Afterall, what is a good couch potato without mindless eating? And I'm a GOOD couch potato. Of course, this was done after my early morning workout....I can be a slob, but I got some standards.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;Anyhow, the weather has been incredible this past week. It's been warm, sunny, and just beautiful. The canyon breezes blow (like tradewinds) and I feel alive. In the past few weeks I have lost 12 pounds (the winter-blues weight)....yeah, that's a lot to gain during the winter. I find that I'm not laying out on my couch with food at hand. I'm up and about. Doing this, doing that. Feeling like I won the lottery. There's a bounce in my step, a smile on my face.  I feel warm, inside and out. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;What's that all about??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;Either I'm a lazy person who has an excuse for laying around in the dark all winter long.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;Or, I'm a puppet. The sun and warm weather pull my strings and get me living life the way it should be lived.....happily, with bouncy steps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-6834507502338962713?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/6834507502338962713/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=6834507502338962713&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/6834507502338962713'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/6834507502338962713'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/03/sunny-warm-weather-puppet.html' title='Sunny-Warm Weather Puppet'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-5081649154954901489</id><published>2009-03-19T09:03:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T09:16:20.038-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Therapy</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;My kids have it all backwards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a mother, it is my duty to totally mess up their minds, their self-confidence, their self-body image, etc...(while I struggle through motherhood). I'm supposed to be putting money aside, not for college, but for therapy for my lovely little ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's the way it's supposed to be, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, they beat me to the punch with questions and statements like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mom, why are you so ugly?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mom, you're a fatso"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't like you"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or my favorite:  Silence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just got one question for my kids: Where's my therapy fund??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-5081649154954901489?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/5081649154954901489/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=5081649154954901489&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/5081649154954901489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/5081649154954901489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/03/therapy.html' title='Therapy'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-8543659150330878985</id><published>2009-03-15T10:34:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-25T11:13:48.576-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><title type='text'>Things That Wake You Up In The Middle Of The Night</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Last night I dreamt about Zeke again. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;It was a long dream. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;I still feel empty when I think about it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;In my dream, Zeke was there. I was telling him how much we missed him and that we loved him. He didn't say much in return. I told him that he needed to come with us so we can help him fix his life, meaning that he would have to turn himself in. He didn't want to come with us. I told him that we love him again. I called all of his little siblings to come and give him a hug. One by one all of them came over and hugged Zeke. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Then I gave him little Zeus. Zeke held Zeus up to his face kissed him and then broke down in tears. He couldn't stop crying. He curled up with Zeus and cried, and cried, and cried. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Our paths parted. I was broken hearted. I didn't want to go, but I knew I had to. I didn't want to leave Zeke behind, but he chose, he chose to not come with us.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Not too long after we parted, the news came. Zeke was dead. I tried to get back to him. I tried so hard. I had to go through so many things and so many people to get back to him. I kept asking everyone, where is his body? Where is my son? Where is Zeke? Just tell me where he is so I can get to him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;I woke before I got to him. I woke with that empty feeling in the pit of my stomach. I woke up numb, staring into the night. I woke pleading, please, please, please don't be real. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Where is my son who can still wake his mother in the middle of the night from where ever he is? Where?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-8543659150330878985?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/8543659150330878985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=8543659150330878985&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/8543659150330878985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/8543659150330878985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/03/things-that-wake-you-up-in-middle-of.html' title='Things That Wake You Up In The Middle Of The Night'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-493164662887509650</id><published>2009-03-15T07:20:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-15T07:36:13.486-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Tricksy</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;I am training for the Wasatch Back Relay race. It is a 178 mile race. There are 12 people on our team and we each run 3 legs of the relay. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Yesterday was a sunny day, so I decided I would go and run outside. I'm so sick of the treadmill. It was 38 degrees. But it was sunny. The weather man said that it was going to get up to about 60 degrees. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;I put on my earphones and went out. I was cold. It was, afterall, about 22 degrees below. Yes, it was 22 degrees below 60 degrees (the bottom of my comfort zone). I don't know what I was thinking. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;I only ran a little over 5 miles. I got a little bit of a tan. My hands were frozen, it took like 5 hours to thaw them. My mouth and throat were scratchy from breathing in the cold dry air. I went to the bathroom and out came yellow crushed ice. I was quite miserable. What was I thinking?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;That Tricksy Sun. It lured me outdoors with its bright-happy-beautiful-come-heal-in-my-rays-inviting self. But it was so cold. Too cold for this body. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;That Tricksy Sun.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-493164662887509650?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/493164662887509650/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=493164662887509650&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/493164662887509650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/493164662887509650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/03/tricksy.html' title='Tricksy'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-4165395481330681740</id><published>2009-03-13T19:58:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-13T20:44:12.836-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Hang Ups</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Do you have 'hang-ups?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know, things that you just get hung-up on for reasons that you can't really explain or you don't want to explain. You know what I'm talking about?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I have hang-ups a plenty. And for some weird reason, I would like to share a few of them with you because I'm tired of them just hanging around in my head alone. Let them hang out in yours for a few minutes (you can thank me later).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  I have a hang-up about getting family photos done. Why? Well, since Tauivi passed away, I just couldn't bring myself to do family photos with one member missing. And now that Zeke has gone AWOL I have an even harder time even thinking about family photos because he's still around, somewhere, out there, and I just can't, can't, can't imagine a family photo session without him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  I have a hang-up about taking pictures. I didn't used to be this way. I used to jump in front of the camera, it didn't matter whose camera it was. If a lens was exposed, I was in front of it. I'm sure this one is not hard to figure out....I used to be thinner and a heck of a lot cuter back then, you know, back when I was a lens magnet (however, I'm starting to un-hang myself from this, slowly but surely).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  I've always had a hang-up about mixing a career with motherhood. In short, I had dreams of being a lawyer once, then I became a mother and put those dreams aside. As time went by, I tried to settle myself to believing that motherhood was all I needed. But the secular world has haunted my dreams for years and years and years. I always felt like something was missing. I know, I know, it sounds bad to say that I'm missing a part of me because I've been a full-time mother for so many years. But really, that's how I feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  I have a hang-up on living here. Hence the title of this blog. I've been here for nearly 9 years and although I have so many wonderful friends here, I have yet to really set down roots. I don't really hang out with anyone except for the occasional party or get together. Don't get me wrong, when I'm with friends here, I love being with them and am grateful for such wonderful associations. But when I go back home, I pine for Samoa. Major hang-up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Too much information? Well, what are hang-ups if not things that are a little deep, coming from the soul?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there my friends, some of my hang-ups.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-4165395481330681740?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/4165395481330681740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=4165395481330681740&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/4165395481330681740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/4165395481330681740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/03/hang-ups.html' title='Hang Ups'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-695952923978111491</id><published>2009-03-11T19:14:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-11T19:31:57.653-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Back</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Back in the teaching saddle, that is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I mentioned in the post before hand, I started teaching cycling classes at the American Fork Gold's. I only mention the gym, just in case any of you feel the need to work up a sweat and want to come join me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I first started teaching aerobics classes in Samoa, I loved it. I remember waaayyyy back in the day, pulling out the Jane Fonda videos and doing my own little workouts at home. Yup, I said Jane Fonda, I did not stutter. Don't laugh like you don't know how old I am already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, teaching such forms of classes has always been something I loved doing. However when Tauivi passed away, 4 years ago on the 31st of this month, I couldn't do it anymore. I just stopped. Well, that's not entirely true, I took a trip to Samoa in 2006 and taught while I was there. But that is the only place I had the desire to do so. Maybe it's because I knew that they needed me, I wasn't just another perky-yell-at-you-till-you-hate-me-cheerleader-type instructor. And, I wasn't the biggest woman in the room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But things have happened and I'm back teaching again. As I get back on that bike at the front of the room, I remember how much I loved to do this. I remember how good I was at it. I don't care anymore that I might be the biggest lady in the room...so what? I remember how good it makes me feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so glad, so glad to be back. Wish some of you could join me in the fun....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-695952923978111491?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/695952923978111491/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=695952923978111491&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/695952923978111491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/695952923978111491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/03/im-back.html' title='I&apos;m Back'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-4371190512504793199</id><published>2009-03-10T09:36:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-10T10:01:44.755-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Guilty</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Okay, I'm guilty. Guilty as charged. Guilty as sin. I plead guilty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm usually the self-appointed "blog-police" and am always getting on other people for not blogging in a timely manner. Yes, I throw the guilt trips all over the place. I do it so that I, me, myself and I, have stuff to read all the time. I need to read blogs. Otherwise I'll die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I have been caught. With my hand in the 'haven't blogged for a while' jar (thanks Mary).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I don't want to bore you with the details, I have compiled a list of things that have been going on....in no particular order of importance:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  I started teaching a cycling class at the AF Gold's&lt;br /&gt;2.  My baby is walking all over the place now (my last and final little one)&lt;br /&gt;3.  Pierced my 3 year old daughter's ears on impulse&lt;br /&gt;4.  Joined Weight Watchers - again - for the LAST time - I'm going to lose it all now! No more pregnancies to use as an excuse to eat whatever (will dedicate a blog post to this later)&lt;br /&gt;5.  Still holding my breath while watching the local news....afraid to see Zeke there&lt;br /&gt;6.  Applied for school at UVU and working on the app for BYU(such a huge process)&lt;br /&gt;7.  Basked in the Spring-teaser days we had....dreading the snow and freezing weather now&lt;br /&gt;8. Worked the night of the time change and got to work one hour less but will get paid for it anyway!!! Woooohooooo!&lt;br /&gt;9. Caught a really bad bug and am sick as a dog...my head is stuffy and my ears are clogged&lt;br /&gt;10. Still wish and dream everyday that I was back in Samoa&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I look over this list, I realize that I have just put together a wonderful list of post titles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there we have it, a blog post, a blog post, a blog post. There will be much more to come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You may hold your breath.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-4371190512504793199?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/4371190512504793199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=4371190512504793199&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/4371190512504793199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/4371190512504793199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/03/guilty.html' title='Guilty'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-7571404093134288850</id><published>2009-02-22T05:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T05:48:24.018-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What Day Is It?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#990000;"&gt;Do you ever wake up from a nap and can't remember where you are, what time it is (day or nite), or what day it is? Isn't it the weirdest feeling? To wake up and just not KNOW. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Just this past Friday I did this. I fell asleep on the couch and before I even opened my eyes from the nap, I was wondering, "where am I?" I opened my eyes and still, it took me a few seconds to realize that I was on my couch. I slowly figured out what day it was, and then in a frantic, I realized that I had to be somewhere at 2pm, so my next thought was, "shoot, I slept through the meeting." I quickly jumped up and looked for the nearest clock. It was 10 minutes to 2pm. I had to move fast. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Still groggy I grabbed my things, got my two little ones dressed and ran out of the house (I couldn't find socks for my baby). And of course, I was late. But I made it, and I'm glad I did. It was a maturation meeting for the 5th grade girls. The meeting was held in the gym and when I walked in, all the girls were sitting with their mothers (or grandmothers). I scanned the crowd for my daughter and there she was on the far side with her friend, just the two of them with no adult relative in sight. My girl looked up at me and for a split second I could see a wave of relief wash over her face. She wasn't going to be motherless. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Thank goodness I was awakened. I was yanked out of that deep sleep cycle, in the nick of time, so my daughter would feel secure. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Thank Goodness.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-7571404093134288850?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/7571404093134288850/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=7571404093134288850&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/7571404093134288850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/7571404093134288850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/02/what-day-is-it.html' title='What Day Is It?'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-4141954501224715546</id><published>2009-02-20T14:36:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-21T18:42:53.010-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sun Hugs</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(153,51,0)"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I went outside and basked in a huge Sun Hug today, courtesy of the Sun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Sun Hug can do wonders for your mental health, enhancing your feeling of well-being.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go out and get one today....on me(and the Sun)!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Sun Hugging!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-4141954501224715546?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/4141954501224715546/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=4141954501224715546&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/4141954501224715546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/4141954501224715546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/02/sun-hugs.html' title='Sun Hugs'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-6778443666021581320</id><published>2009-02-19T14:54:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-20T09:04:43.238-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life Goes On</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Last night a man died in the ER.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctors tried to save him, but there was nothing left for them to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The whole ER staff was focused on this one man. Everyone. Running here, running there, calling here, calling there, getting units of blood, getting medicine, working on him, finding out info about him, trying, trying, trying to save a life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That man, he wasn't the only patient in the ER, but he was the focus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the middle of the commotion, I looked around at the other rooms, filled with ignorant patients. They had no idea that someone was dying in the next room. Focused only on their condition: a laceration, a fever, a cough, an infection, a need for drugs, etc...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ignorance is bliss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only a short while after coming into the ER, the deceased was covered up and quietly wheeled down to a room at the end of the dark hall. His family came in weeping, trying to swallow the sudden departure of their loved one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mourning, down at the end of the dark hall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The business of the ER was quickly resumed. No one noticed. Business as usual.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because life goes on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Except for where time froze, down at the end of the dark hall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-6778443666021581320?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/6778443666021581320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=6778443666021581320&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/6778443666021581320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/6778443666021581320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/02/life-goes-on.html' title='Life Goes On'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-1296162776252258726</id><published>2009-02-18T12:25:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-18T21:24:23.600-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Take A Walk With Me.....</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;.....down memory lane....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But first, did you enter the cake contest over at &lt;a href="http://sugarplumcake.blogspot.com/2009/02/first-official-contestgiveaway.html"&gt;Sugar Plum Cakes&lt;/a&gt;? Just checking. I know you all have great ideas and who doesn't love yummy cake? So go on over and support a poly sistah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, plug out of the way......Let's get back to that walk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you might have noticed, I've added a few new pictures onto my blog. You didn't? You blind? They are all over there on the right hand side. Go ahead, take a few seconds and scroll down the page and see some pictures of Samoa and a red hibiscus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been feeling more homesick than usual and so I went online to look for some pictures of home. These few pictures flooded my mind with so many memories and emotions, I just don't know where to begin. One of the memories that came to mind was this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back in the day....when I was growing up in Am. Samoa, the whole island was one stake. For those of you who are LDS, you know what I mean. In essence, it is a grouping of smaller congregations (wards and branches). My father had a calling in the stake that required him to speak once a month in various wards and branches throughout the stake (or entire island in this case). Because of this calling, my mother would have us children practice singing hymns and giving short talks. As a family we would travel to these various wards and branches, give our talks and sing our musical numbers. I didn't particularly enjoy these monthly trips because I was a bit bashful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't remember any of the songs we sang or any of the talks we gave. The things I do remember are etched in my brain forever. I remember the sights and smells of the island. I remember the different buildings we met in, some were church buildings, some were fales (bigger versions of the one pictured on the right). I remember the church building in the village of Tula was right across the street from the beach. I remember going out there after the meetings and skipping rocks across the water. I remember driving to Vatia (pictured on the right) and being mesmerized by the beauty of the bay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I look back, I think that my father must have harbored a great love for this island because he always took our little family out to even the remote villages just for fun. Every Saturday my parents would take us to the beach (after the chores were done). And every Sunday, my father would take us on 'Sunday drives.' We would pile into the back of the toyota pick up and just go riding around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I wasn't born with the gene coded to love Samoa, my father instilled in me this love by sharing his home with me. Or maybe it's both.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I know is that these pictures here on the right, they are giving me the greatest feelings of nostalgia and longing. Longing for home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-1296162776252258726?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/1296162776252258726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=1296162776252258726&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/1296162776252258726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/1296162776252258726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/02/take-walk-with-me.html' title='Take A Walk With Me.....'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-7221088981207942916</id><published>2009-02-17T11:36:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-18T12:17:52.321-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sugar Plum Cakes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SZsDv-dBleI/AAAAAAAAAK8/WboeN02S8iU/s1600-h/sugar+plum+cake.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SZsDv-dBleI/AAAAAAAAAK8/WboeN02S8iU/s400/sugar+plum+cake.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303837108912362978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Hey Everyone!! Want to win a free cake? Go over to &lt;a href="http://sugarplumcake.blogspot.com/2009/02/first-official-contestgiveaway.html"&gt;Sugar Plum Cakes&lt;/a&gt;, leave a flattering comment and enter the contest by offering an idea for a catchy slogan. Check it out!! And if you win, you gotta share with me! Also, if you like what you see, post up a link on your blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-7221088981207942916?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://sugarplumcake.blogspot.com/' title='Sugar Plum Cakes'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/7221088981207942916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=7221088981207942916&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/7221088981207942916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/7221088981207942916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/02/sugar-plum-cakes.html' title='Sugar Plum Cakes'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SZsDv-dBleI/AAAAAAAAAK8/WboeN02S8iU/s72-c/sugar+plum+cake.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-3435622499356662513</id><published>2009-02-17T10:59:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T14:33:06.970-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Conversation With Cold-Snowy Winter</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Ahhhh Winter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry, but we just can not be friends. It is all my fault, I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't take it personal (but I don't know how you can't). It's just that I don't like the cold. I don't like it when I can't quickly throw my kids into the car without putting layers of clothes on them. I really like the no-shoe, no-sock thing.....because sometimes I can't find BOTH pairs of the SAME shoe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess there are some benefits to wearing layers of clothing....it does wonders to hide the holiday weight gain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know you try your best to be cute with all the snow and everything. And yes, it is cute, only if I'm enjoying you from behind a window in a warm home. But then the snow kind of gets a little ugly after a while when it gets all mixed up with dirt and stuff like that. And of course that whole 'ice on the roads making it dangerous to drive' thing, not so cute. Also, the dead (dormant) trees, bushes, grass, really not cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could go for a run outside, but I don't like the feeling of my face going numb. You see, when you're numb, you can't tell if you got boogers hanging down your nose. Again, not cute. Numb nose, numb ears, numb face, numb fingers, numb toes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the Bugs that love to come out when you're here.....the flu bug, rsv bug, strep bug, cold bug, pneumonia bug,  etc... Yuckity-yuck-yuck-yuck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know, this is your territory and you have no choice but to show up every year. I know this. I know. It's me, not you. I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I tried harder, maybe we could be friends. But I can't. I just can't. I'm sorry. Maybe in another time, in another situation, in another place (like on the Big Island on Mauna Kea....so I can go directly to the warm beach afterwards).  Maybe we could be friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the meantime, you just go on and do your thing. I will sit here and whine to myself while making plans to move. Far out of your reach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-3435622499356662513?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/3435622499356662513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=3435622499356662513&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/3435622499356662513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/3435622499356662513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/02/winter.html' title='A Conversation With Cold-Snowy Winter'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-6309988839254449208</id><published>2009-02-13T15:22:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-13T15:49:43.837-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Confessions Of A Closet Shopper</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Ask me if I like shopping. Go on, ask me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do I like Shopping?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, since you asked...I'm going to have to say no. I'm compelled to say no because I'm just not one of those women who can spend all day at the mall or surfing the net for all the latest fashions or even looking for all the biggest sales on all the latest fashions. I don't know anything about the 'half-yearly' sales or all the holiday sales, or all the coupons that you can print out on-line. Nope, not me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A lot of women out there say that when they are feeling down or depressed, they go shopping....in lieu of eating....what?! Food, especially chocolate food, trumps shopping any day in my book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Hubby gave me $100 last week...some sort of bonus I guess. It sat untouched in my wallet for 12 days. Yup, 100 free-spend-it-on-whatever-dollars (okay, he didn't say that, but when you give me money, that's what I think it's for). Those five 20 dollar bills sat all cozy and comfy in my wallet until TODAY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For some reason, maybe because the sun was shining or it might have been because a hole was burning through my wallet, I decided to go to the mall. And BAM,WHAM,  ALAKAZAM-$100 disappeared. Just like magic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first stop was Bath....Works. I have ONE scent that I'm in love with and it is the only one I wear. Since they were having a buy 2 get one free 'sale', I had to take advantage of it. When I stepped up to the check out counter, the girl asked me if I was purchasing my items as gifts. HUH?! Yeah, a gift for Me (make that 3 gifts~buy 2 get 1 free). I sort of felt guilty after she asked me that question, but was over it in about 1.000333444 seconds. I mean, I don't KNOW what other people like to smell like, sheeez.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made a few other stops and drooled over a bunch of things. I knew that I had to get out of the mall when I realized that my 3 year old was drooling over more things than me. She stopped at every window display and pressed her nose up against the glass and stared. Yes, EVERY window display.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I have no idea where she gets it from.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-6309988839254449208?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/6309988839254449208/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=6309988839254449208&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/6309988839254449208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/6309988839254449208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/02/confessions-of-closet-shopper.html' title='Confessions Of A Closet Shopper'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-4661001786390675622</id><published>2009-02-10T09:42:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-25T11:15:14.900-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><title type='text'>The Bug Cycle</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Hey, what is this? Summer vacation already? But there's snow all over the place, so it can't be summer just yet. Then what's going on? I got all these kids at home. I hear the sounds of coughing, sneezing, wheezing, fevers (I know, that doesn't make a sound), crying, vomitting, gagging on medicine, and so on. Of course those sounds are a bit muffled since my left ear is STILL plugged. I have a new perfume scent, it is called, 'throw-up.' This. Is. Not. Fun. Yes, I'm whining...because it has been going on for a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;month&lt;/span&gt;, in cycles. First one is sick, then another, then the first gets better, then another one gets sick, then the second one gets better, then another one gets sick, and then the third one gets better, then the next one wakes up with a stiff neck! And that last one is not even sick....just a stiff neck! What?! This bug cycle is making me PSYCHO! Alright, alright, I know you all know that I'm already psycho and this is just another one of my weak "blame someone else for my being me" attempts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So besides having 'pity parties' for me all day long (yes, the party happens in segments throughout the day), I try to do some things to keep myself entertained....because washing throw-up clothes and bedding is almost the funnest thing ever, almost. I watch bits and pieces of the "Rachael Ray Show" and imagine that I have the energy and the ingredients to make "what's for dinner tonight." I watch bits and pieces of "Law and Order" and imagine that I'm in New York, or a prosecutor throwing murderers behind bars. One of my favorite shows is "The Closer." Yup. I imagine I'm a southern belle that is all 'proper', manipulative, a mean interrogator, and addicted to chocolate..."thank you &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;very &lt;/span&gt;much." So yeah, beside all my 'couch-potato'ing....I'm keeping up with my training schedule for the race in June (which might really be the only thing that keeps me sane...as sane as I can be).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yay....baby just pee'd on me. So now I got 2 new perfume scents mixed into one: 'throw-up-pee.' Don't be jealous, it's not becoming. Really. It's not. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-4661001786390675622?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/4661001786390675622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=4661001786390675622&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/4661001786390675622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/4661001786390675622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/02/bug-cycle.html' title='The Bug Cycle'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-3873174101128848496</id><published>2009-02-06T15:40:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-06T16:16:11.972-07:00</updated><title type='text'>More Evidence</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SYzEpZQ-hsI/AAAAAAAAAK0/7gxYOGk0doE/s1600-h/treadmill.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SYzEpZQ-hsI/AAAAAAAAAK0/7gxYOGk0doE/s400/treadmill.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299827076944004802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Since I'm going to be spending the majority of my exercise on the treadmill (running) I decided it was time to start getting music together on an MP3 player. Fortunately, I had an unwrapped MP3 player in my closet that I bought for Zeke as a Christmas present 2 years ago, but since he got one right before Christmas as a bowl-game gift, I decided to go and return it (of course I gave it to him, he said he didn't need it). So, being the 'right-on-top-of-it' kind of person I am, it sat in my closet these last couple of years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really like having this new gadget to help me get through my running. I don't know why I didn't do this a long time ago.....at least 2 years or so ago. I used to be a running "purist." You know, the person that goes running outside with no distractions, just the sound of my feet hitting the pavement, the beating of my heart, the sound of my breathing(and the dogs barking) to keep me going. Of course, I would spend all that time enjoying the sites and sounds around me(I did most of my running while living in Samoa and Hawaii). I would take in the smell of the salty ocean air, and the wet grass, or the different plants I ran by (and occasionally the dead animal....yuckity yuck). Since I moved to this desert I have not enjoyed the outdoors as much, because I'm a boob and I don't want to be here. And if you think I'm going to go running outdoors in the winter, think again (the only sound I would hear if I did so would be my body screaming, "you *&amp;amp;%@#%^* idiot, get your %$#@@#$! brown butt inside!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So since I'm doing all of my running indoors, I listen to music, to block out the sounds of the gym. What I have found, then is not surprising.....I find that polynesian music is most motivating for me. Since I only have a few poly songs on my player, I hit the rewind button a lot. It is funny to realize more and more that my body and my mind are so attached to the islands that when I'm playing my poly music, I can run a little faster, a little longer, and feel less pain. Some might say that it's "all in my head." And I have to agree. But it is not only in my head, it's in my heart, in my lungs, in my muscles, in the very blood that courses through my veins, essentiall~every tissue of my body.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet more evidence of this fish being out of the salty water it needs to breathe. To live.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-3873174101128848496?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/3873174101128848496/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=3873174101128848496&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/3873174101128848496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/3873174101128848496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/02/more-evidence.html' title='More Evidence'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SYzEpZQ-hsI/AAAAAAAAAK0/7gxYOGk0doE/s72-c/treadmill.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-8096299428458001303</id><published>2009-02-05T07:53:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-25T11:15:14.901-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><title type='text'>I Had  A Dream</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I dreamt last night that Zeke came home. It was nice, we were talking and laughing and all the while, I was wondering if I should call the cops.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week we celebrated 2 birthdays, one for big Z and one for little Z. You see, little Z decided that he wanted to share his big brother's birthday, so he came on that date. The age gap between the two is exactly 20 years. To the day. It happened for a reason. Since big Z is so much older than his siblings and because he is never around, the shared birth date helps the little one's remember him (not that they forget about him, since they constantly ask for him). The little one's made sure we had two cakes, one for each birthday boy. They must have known that big Z wasn't going to show up, but they weren't going to forget him. We tried to at least call him so we could all wish him a happy day, but out efforts were in vain. Nevertheless, we lit the candles on both cakes and sang our happy wishes for big and little Z, and the little ones blew out the candles. Talk about bitter-sweet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zeke is running from the law. We tried to convince him to turn himself in, but again, to no avail. He proceeded, instead, to cut off all communication with us. Sometimes I want to claim the role of the victim in this whole mess, sometimes I feel like I'm the villain, sometimes I wish, and wish, and wish. No one can tell me that I'm not to blame, because in some way, shape, or form, I had something to do with who my son is today. So please, please, please don't tell me otherwise. Please. Of course, I KNOW, yes, I know, I know that he has made his own choices and is responsible for them. Again, I KNOW. But I also know what is in my heart, and I know what I've done as a mother, and I know my short-comings, and I know my imperfections. I KNOW. I am part of the problem. Yes. I. Am. Beating myself up, I am not. Being realistic, I am. Keep hope alive, I must do. It's all I can do. (I'm turning into Yoda).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I had this dream last night. Zeke and I were talking, I was looking at his tats, I was thinking about turning him in. Then my dream ended.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-8096299428458001303?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/8096299428458001303/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=8096299428458001303&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/8096299428458001303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/8096299428458001303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-had-dream.html' title='I Had  A Dream'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-3732657835660375982</id><published>2009-01-28T13:37:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T21:13:39.325-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Need To Throw-Up...YaY!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I've been feeling a bit under-the-weather this past week (what does that mean anyway? 'Under-the-weather?' It probably means that there is pleasant weather going on and you are feeling yucky and sick, however....the weather&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; here&lt;/span&gt; has been ugly...freezing cold, dirty-filthy air, dirty snow, etc...) Hmmm, in that case, I must rephrase my first sentence. Let's start over:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been feeling quite up-to-par with the weather this past week. I woke up in the middle of the night with an earache. An EARACHE??!! I don't remember ever having an earache before. It was quite painful. Luckily we had some antibiotic ear drops in the cupboard, so I laid down on the couch, remote control in hand, and dropped some drops into my ear. From my vantage point, I can't see my ears so I don't know exactly how many drops I put in, but who cares, my ear started feeling better right away. That was the beginning of the illness cycle....soar throat, stuffy head, stuffy nose, cough, nausea, etc... And I have spent more time on the dang couch than I want to admit. But you know how it is when you're a mother and working part-time, you still get up, and try to do something, even if it is only a pathetic effort to take care of your family (and it was quite pathetic, ask my husband).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I also pulled my hamstring or something like that as well last week. That was more frustrating than the 'up-to-par with the weather' illness I was suffering with. I HATE to not be able to run or exercise like I want because of a stinking injury! Lucky for me, there is always cycling. I can still get a tough workout without further irritating my hamstring when cycling. I took a break from the gym on Saturday and Monday and then on Tuesday, I dragged myself to the gym. I went into the cylce room 45 minutes before class, stuck in a cd into the stereo and started my own little workout. By the time the class started, I had a pretty good workout under my belt and was sweating like crazy. Of course, being the psycho that I am, I stayed for the 45 minute class and half-way through, my muscles were burning, my lungs were burning, my heart rate was up, and I felt like I needed to throw-up. Yay!! I was so excited! (Okay, now you really think I'm a freak) But listen(I mean, keep reading). When you workout hard on a regular basis, you kind of hit a plateau. Sometimes it's hard to take it up a notch because you get in your comfort zone and don't push yourself past it. So when I push myself to the point where I feel the need to throw-up, it means that I've pushed myself PAST my comfort zone! Improving my fitness level. I stayed for the rest of the class and left feeling elated (until I got home and my husband was mad at me for taking so long at the gym because he had to be at the church). sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yeah, I needed to throw-up in cycling class, and proud of it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-3732657835660375982?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/3732657835660375982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=3732657835660375982&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/3732657835660375982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/3732657835660375982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-need-to-throw-upyay.html' title='I Need To Throw-Up...YaY!'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-2252150503482218051</id><published>2009-01-26T16:15:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-28T23:42:34.194-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bloggity Blah Blah Blah</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;" &gt;I really hate it when I have writter's block. &lt;strong&gt;Hate. It. I. Do.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;There are 10 million-2 hundred thousand-5 hundred-and-23 words (give or take a million) floating around in my head. Some of them are strung together in small sentences, while most are just out there floating. Alone. Cold. With no place to call home. Sigh. I have some great 'ideas of thought' that form little islands in my head, but they are scarcely inhabited by the words needed to form a legitimate island colony that I like to call, "Something To Post On My Blog." And with 10 million plus words floating, you can imagine the chaos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;I have begun storming my brain, you know, sitting down with paper and pen (I almost forgot what my handwriting looks like....needs some polishing) and pulling those words down out of the chaos. It is one thing to know that there are a 10+ million words up there in the mess, but when you start pulling them out and writing them down and giving them some place to call their own, it is amazing what you find. Yeah, I find that I got stuff to say, stuff to write about, stuff to be ashamed of, funny stuff, sad stuff, stuff I probably need to see a shrink about, and so on. (if you say, or write, or use a word so many times in a row, it begins to look weird, like it's not even a real word: STUFF, can you see that?)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;Where was I? Oh yeah, so I really, really want to blog. I really, really want to form my island colonies and put them out there to be admired and adored (okay I'll settle for at least being read). The chaos, well, the chaos is here to stay, but the islands of organized thought will come in due time....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;I Hope.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-2252150503482218051?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/2252150503482218051/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=2252150503482218051&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/2252150503482218051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/2252150503482218051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/01/bloggity-blah-blah-blah.html' title='Bloggity Blah Blah Blah'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-6166171516922351919</id><published>2009-01-22T16:15:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-23T19:26:38.496-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fresh Air</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Did you know that the air found in the region of Samoa is the cleanest, freshest, purest air in the world? (And if I'm wrong, I'm sure my "fact-finder"/"myth-buster" friend, Rita, will let me know). Anyways, I didn't conduct a study on the air in Samoa, BUT...many universities have. You see, there is a National (US) Weather Station in Am. Samoa and my sister, LM, took me out there when I was visiting in 2006 (all those years on this island and I only heard about this place, but never actually went). I was mildly surprised and impressed by the equipment they had at this center to track the weather but I was more surprised to find that they actually collected the air in Samoa, put them in tanks, and sent them off to various universities across the country. These universities tested the air and came to the conclusion that this air collected out in the middle of the Pacific Ocean was virtually untainted by pollution. Yeah peeps, that's my home.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;But that's not all. When we visited this weather station, I was overcome by the sheer beauty of the island (again). The station is located on the eastern end of the island of Tutuila up on a point (like Laie point...just more pristine). At the top of this point is the station, then there is a long set of wooden stairs down to a grassy area (my first reaction to the stairs: 'great for exercise, just go up and down a few times...yes, I'm sick).  From this point you get a beautiful view of the ocean and the surrounding coast. It takes your breath away. It is one of places I visit when I need to 'get away' in my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know what you're thinking, because I think it everyday.....as I'm giving my baby breathing treatments on the nebulizer, giving my daughter her inhaler, watching my husband do both, driving through thick smog, and freezing my butt off..."what am I doing here?" Really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-6166171516922351919?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/6166171516922351919/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=6166171516922351919&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/6166171516922351919'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/6166171516922351919'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/01/fresh-air.html' title='Fresh Air'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-7747179806384269258</id><published>2009-01-16T04:50:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T21:16:28.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Notes From Delirium</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;I am tired. I am dead-dog tired. I'm so tired that I keep dozing off with my eyes open. That's how tired I am. I've been at work for 10 hours, 55 minutes, and 41,42,43, 44, 45 seconds... I have been awake since yesterday~4:30am. Doing the math, that equals 24 and 1/2 hours. I'm now a resident of Delirium...okay, I've been a resident of this state for some time now. Alright, I was born here. Okay! I admit it, I'm the governor of this state! Are you happy now? I wonder if this is what it feels like to be on drugs. No,  it can't be. There's no way I could get addicted to this.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;Anyways, I wanted to talk about exercise. Just 24 hours ago I was at the gym doing some weights before I went to cycling class. Normally, I would be up and at the gym, right now, running on the treadmill or getting ready for cycling class. Why do I go to cycling classes so much? It's such an awesome workout. It is low impact on the joints but high impact on your cardiovascular system. But one of the best features of cycling class is that there is an instructor that brings music and a plan. I don't have to think about what I'm going to do, I just have to show up....and do follow along. I love it. I wonder if this is what it feels like to be on drugs. Hmmm, I'm pretty addicted to exercise as it is, but I'm not hurting my loved ones while I'm doing it, so maybe it's not so much the same.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;And while I'm talking about things I love, I might as well mention my first love: food. I don't discriminate, much. I love the feeling of a slightly full tummy, it's like a warm hug from the inside out. I love sitting and watching the Food Network channel and I swear I can smell the food and if I get close enough to the tv, I can almost taste it. I find that I have an appetite for every emotion. There are some things that I'm kind of picky about, like butter. I must have real butter in my home at all times. If I ever run out, I start to have seizures. I wonder if this is what it feels like to be on drugs. Yeah, I think I'm getting closer now. Butter can have adverse side effects....like excess adipose tissue and so on, and...I might find myself holding up a store a gun-point to get my fix if necessary...It is easy to get children hooked on it...And I'm not addicted to it. I'm not. I do not need your help to get off of it because I. Don't. Have. A. Problem. With. It. I can quit anytime I want, really. I. Can.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;Okay, well, anyways, I'm trying to figure out how to get some sleep when I get home from work as the family will be waking up as I'm sleep-walking to my bed. It'll be an interesting day.............................................................................oooopssss, there I go again falling asleep with my eyes open. Hate that! Especially when it happens while you're driving. But don't worry, I'm not driving right now because it would be very irresponsible to be blogging and driving and falling asleep all at the same time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-7747179806384269258?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/7747179806384269258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=7747179806384269258&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/7747179806384269258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/7747179806384269258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/01/notes-from-delirium.html' title='Notes From Delirium'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-60287035088733193</id><published>2009-01-09T17:02:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-25T11:15:14.901-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><title type='text'>Divine Intervention</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#006600;"&gt;My sister, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;MJ&lt;/span&gt;, just completed law school in 2 1/2 years. She is quite a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;brainiac&lt;/span&gt;. She holds rank in the Army as a Captain (served in Iraq 3 tours). She is very successful. She had planned to move to Iowa last Friday and had already found a place to stay, signed up to take a the Iowa Bar Review course, and did I mention, her boyfriend lives there. When I informed her that my son was getting baptised on Saturday, she postponed her move until Saturday afternoon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#006600;"&gt;My other sisters and I (and probably some of my brothers, I didn't bother to ask them) were not happy that she was moving to Iowa. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;MJ&lt;/span&gt; has struggles with other things in her life (see, sometimes being so very smart can have some set backs). Like relationship problems, faith issues, etc... We just all felt that it wasn't a good move. While she was saying her goodbyes on Saturday, we all just hugged her and told her to be safe. Except for my husband who looked her in the eye and told her that she shouldn't be going. He told her that she wasn't doing the right thing and that he was going to go out and slash her tires (drama King). But she got the message: that we all loved her and were concerned but that we would step aside and let her live her life, even if we didn't agree with her choices.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#006600;"&gt;She drove off, and I left to work. Four hours later, I got off work and called her on my way home. She was on the road, it was dark already, and she was dreading the drive. A couple of hours later she called me back, crying, she had hit some black ice and rolled her vehicle. She didn't have cell phone reception when the accident occurred, but luckily some miners were &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;driving&lt;/span&gt; behind her and saw the whole thing. They took care of her. Miraculously, she was not injured at all. Her car was totalled. She stayed in a hotel that night and all of Sunday and drove back to Utah on Monday. She got her apartment back already and her old job at a law firm. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#006600;"&gt;Divine intervention? I'm going to have to say yes. Many times we plead with our Father to give us what we want, and sometimes, it's what He wants for us as well. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-60287035088733193?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/60287035088733193/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=60287035088733193&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/60287035088733193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/60287035088733193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/01/divine-intervention.html' title='Divine Intervention'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-8671914401058876222</id><published>2009-01-07T14:55:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-07T15:23:17.574-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Back In The Saddle</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Do you answer your cell phone every time it rings? I don't. Sometimes I can't find it in time, or my hands are tied up, or most of the time, I don't realize it's &lt;em&gt;my&lt;/em&gt; phone that's ringing since no one really calls me. So this morning at 8:40am when my cell rang, I surprised myself by running up the stairs from the laundry room to answer it. I checked the caller id and it was my friend who is the cycling coordinator for Gold's gym. I answered. I laughed at what she was calling for. And was surprised that I said yes. She was calling to ask me to sub a cycling class for her because her grand daughter was sick and she couldn't find anyone else to cover for her. I haven't taught cycling classes in almost 4 years. I have no music. I have no routine planned out. I have no babysitting for my kids. And I just got out of the shower from my 1 1/2 hour early morning workout. But I said yes (you all already know I'm crazy, so no explanation needed).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Somehow, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;everything&lt;/span&gt; worked out. like the cycling planets were all in alignment and they had my name written all over them. Rona, my friend, called the daycare at the gym and they were ready to take my 2 children. I got to the gym in time to find the instructor music hidden in the aerobics room stereo (don't ask me how I knew it was there....let's just keep with the "planet alignment" theory). And I went for broke. Of course, when I walked into the class, I announced that Rona wouldn't be there, that I was teaching, and they were welcome to leave if they wanted. I said would not be offended (but I would have been, just a little). They laughed that nervous laugh, meaning: "we'll stay, but if you suck, we are so out of here!" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;By some miracle, no one left in the middle of class. They loved it! I loved it! I had so much fun! I suddenly remembered why I used to love teaching. I had an audience that hung on &lt;em&gt;my&lt;/em&gt; every word and command. I Had. The. Power. Now I am working on a diabolical plan to take over the World! Ah-Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha (evil laugh, just in case you didn't get it). Seriously though, I did have a great time and had a lot of positive feedback from the class.....especially the women. I told them that I already had my fake eyelashes on and would be really upset if I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;sweated&lt;/span&gt; them off during class. So they came up to me after class to see how my eyelashes stood up. They passed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;So now I'm thinking....hmmmm....is it time to get back in that saddle? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-8671914401058876222?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/8671914401058876222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=8671914401058876222&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/8671914401058876222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/8671914401058876222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/01/back-in-saddle.html' title='Back In The Saddle'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-3263239208417323817</id><published>2009-01-05T09:57:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-05T10:04:30.415-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"The Great Slim Down"</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Do you need some help keeping you on task with your weight loss goals? Come over to my friend, Erin's, blog and join in on "&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://thesummerillsurf.blogspot.com/2009/01/great-slim-down-is-here.html"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Great Slim Down&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;." The more the merrier! Come on, you know you want to!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-3263239208417323817?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/3263239208417323817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=3263239208417323817&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/3263239208417323817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/3263239208417323817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2009/01/great-slim-down.html' title='&quot;The Great Slim Down&quot;'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-1700247095036325651</id><published>2008-12-31T11:12:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-07T15:41:15.320-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Last Day of 2008</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000099;"&gt;Parting is such sweet sorrow....who said that anyway? Should I have put that in quotation marks? Hmmmm, what kind of English major am I? Oh well. They, or their estate, can sue me. Anyways, it's "farewell" to 2008 and "Welcome" to 2009! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;It is time for the "2009 To-Do List!" I haven't made a list in years because I got tired of making it and then NOT accomplishing most of the things I planned. But here I am, ready to commit to making this the BEST year ever! So Here Goes:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Spend 1/2 hour reading with kids (scriptures included)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Lose (once and for all) 30 pounds (be healthier)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Do Wasatch Back Run in June&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Run Honolulu Marathon in December&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Get into Nursing School&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Be more dedicated to church responsibilities&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Date night twice a month (with my husband, of course)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;That's it! Short list, packed with a lot of punch. I'm so looking forward to this year!! It is going to be AWESOME! I hope you all are planning a great year for yourself as well!! Here's to success, happiness, and rolling with the punches in 09! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-1700247095036325651?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/1700247095036325651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=1700247095036325651&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/1700247095036325651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/1700247095036325651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2008/12/last-day-of-2008.html' title='Last Day of 2008'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-2877135705296650735</id><published>2008-12-30T20:55:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-30T21:22:15.250-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The "Four" Tag</title><content type='html'>I got this tag from Puanani.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four Things I Did Today:&lt;br /&gt;1. Gym @ 5am&lt;br /&gt;2. Practised putting on my fake lashes.....kinda fun!!&lt;br /&gt;3. Ate too much chocolate....all the while thinking about writing 2009 goals (including not eating so much sweets)&lt;br /&gt;4. Fantasized about being rich so that I could pay for someone else to clean my house&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four Things on My To-Do List&lt;br /&gt;1. Write out my 2009 To-Do List&lt;br /&gt;2. Stop eating so much junk&lt;br /&gt;3. Send in my nursing applications&lt;br /&gt;4. Take down the Christmas tree&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four Guilty Pleasures&lt;br /&gt;1. Chocolate&lt;br /&gt;2. Ganging up on my brothers-in-law with my sisters (they don't stand a chance)&lt;br /&gt;3. Reading, when I should be cooking, cleaning, or spending more time with my kids&lt;br /&gt;4. Fantasizing about being rich so that I can pay for someone else to do my cooking, cleaning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four Random Facts&lt;br /&gt;1. I'm Crazy&lt;br /&gt;2. I'm allergic to the cold and snow&lt;br /&gt;3. I would love to live in China for a few years&lt;br /&gt;4. I get motion sickness easily so I don't do the big rides at amusement parks or read while in a moving vehicle.....bummer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tag all of you who are having a hard time thinking of something to write about!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-2877135705296650735?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/2877135705296650735/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=2877135705296650735&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/2877135705296650735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/2877135705296650735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2008/12/four-tag.html' title='The &quot;Four&quot; Tag'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-3478027841874315634</id><published>2008-12-29T10:16:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-25T11:16:49.669-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><title type='text'>Torn</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#990000;"&gt;This Chritmas finds me torn between two emotions. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#990000;"&gt;Our family has been EXTREMELY blessed with COUNTLESS gifts by a number of people. Most of these people remain annonymous to this day. We have our suspicions on who our generous gift givers are, but then we can't say for sure since it seems that they are many different people. We are humbled. We feel blessed. We feel unworthy of such an out-pouring of love (quite honestly). At times I have felt like I really wish these gift-givers would let us know who they are so we can at least say thank you or return some of the love. Then I realize that it is 'pure giving' that motivates these annonymous angels, with NO thought of 'return.' I just hope they know how much we love and appreciate everything. Ev-er-y-th-ing. Of course, in honor of receiving of such gifts, we have planned to "pay it forward". In many ways, and by many different means, we will give, and look for nothing in return. Of course, with all the generosity we received this year, we will be 'paying it forward' for a looooonnnnngggggg time. Yeah, they were that generous. It is an overwhelming feeling of love and awe in receiving such love from friends especially knowing the source of their love stems from the Love of Our Father. Humbled, we are.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#990000;"&gt;The other emotions which is just as powerful and overwhelming, that I have been feeling this season, is sorrow and heartache. Even amidst all the love offered us, I can't ignore that stabbing pain in my heart when I wake up every morning hoping Zeke has come home and realizing he hasn't. Where is my son? Why doesn't he want to come home for Christmas? Doesn't he know I love him and want to see him? Why can't I find him? There are the lonely presents sitting under the tree waiting for him. The back door has been unlocked for days, open, waiting for his return. I listen for the creaking of that back door in the middle of the night, hoping that he will just come home. Where is he? In all the 21 Christmases since his birth, this is my first without the knowledge of where he is, without hearing the sound of his voice, without being able to give him something, not even a hug. Where is my little boy? Where is my son? Where is my first baby? Why does he hate me so? Does he realize when he comes home that he will find an open home? Open arms? Open fridge? And broken hearts that only he can heal? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#990000;"&gt;Torn. But one side is winning...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-3478027841874315634?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/3478027841874315634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=3478027841874315634&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/3478027841874315634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/3478027841874315634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2008/12/torn.html' title='Torn'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-4184955344212952959</id><published>2008-12-23T02:27:00.007-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-23T20:10:10.172-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Denial Is Not a River In Egypt</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Something is Wrong.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;I know this because when I walk outside dressed in my shorts and t-shirt to jog a few miles around the neighborhood, for some reason, I quickly have to slam the door closed. Baffled, I just stand at the door for a few minutes wondering, "why can't I go out on my run?" And then I notice, suddenly, that the world looks brownish-greyish, "hmm", I think to myself, "there's something missing" but I just can't put my finger on it. Then I realize that there are no more leaves on most of the trees, no more flowers blooming, no more flies, and think to myself, "that's strange, hmm." I sit and think about the whole situation and look for more clues to find reasons my world is, all of a sudden, so bland, so blah, so cold. I look outside and see kids in the neighborhood walking to school and I wonder why they look so fat. It is so strange that ALL the children have gotten thicker. Their arms are puffier, and their stomaches are rounder. But their legs, they still look skinny.....hmph, palagis. And then there is the whole thing about the sun. It's getting lazy. It is starting it's day way later than normal and then it clocks out waaayyy earlier than it should.....must be a Samoan. And that's not all, that sun is not hot, it's not even warm. Must be some technical difficulties with it's themostat. I also notice a strange smell when I'm outdoors, it smells like a forest is burning somewhere close by. Yeah, things are just not right in the world. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;This change makes me feel funny, it makes me hungry, it makes me have no desire to workout, it makes feel like I need to stay indoors. I feel a little sad even. Then it hits me: the snow. And I realize, with the longing to be where coconut trees sway in the tradewinds, that it is winter. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-4184955344212952959?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/4184955344212952959/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=4184955344212952959&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/4184955344212952959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/4184955344212952959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2008/12/its-winter.html' title='Denial Is Not a River In Egypt'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-2175529721202517431</id><published>2008-12-20T06:09:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-21T20:05:50.819-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Chop Suey</title><content type='html'>I can't go any longer without a new post on this blog. It is killing me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are a thousands posts brewing in my mind, but none are ready, quite yet, to hit the blog. So I'm going throwing together this blog that is about a bunch of little things that have been going on lately in my little corner of the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Our annonymous friends have yet to be caught in the act as they continue to pour love on our family every evening with gifts. A couple of times we have been right on the other side of the door when they come, knock, and run (or vaporize into thin air). I'm now under the suspicion that our friends are not even human(or super human) because they disappear soooo dang fast. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Congratulations to my cousin, Melissa, for running the Honolulu marathon and coming in....before the time limit expired! That's more than what I can say about myself if I were to run the Honolulu marathon, I would be stopping at every manapua shop along the route. I'm so proud of her accomplishment and have committed to run next December with her. Anyone want to join us???&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Congratulations to my husband for getting a job!! The most important thing about this is that he is paid less than half of his last salary, but he happily goes to work everyday and is keeping his spirits about him. What a Man!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;We received gifts from our children's elementary school's Secret Santa program this year. I have no idea how they found out that our family was in need. Maybe they read my blog too. hmmmm.....probably not. Nevertheless, I am humbled, so humbled, and grateful for angels.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;AND, Congratulations to me for passing my EMT Basic state written and practical exams! Yes, I am now a certified EMT. So if you live anywhere near me, consider this your warning. Be aware that when you dial 911 for an ambulance, you might see me walking up your driveway, with a stethescope. If that doesn't scare you into being extra cautious and safe, I don't know what will! &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;So there you have it, a bit of Chop Suey, crazy lady style. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I Hope your holidays are filled with joy, peace, gratitude, and love as you and your families celebrate the birth of our Savior. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-2175529721202517431?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/2175529721202517431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=2175529721202517431&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/2175529721202517431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/2175529721202517431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2008/12/chop-suey.html' title='Chop Suey'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-1837649098389024367</id><published>2008-12-12T09:24:00.009-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T13:05:03.399-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Anonymous Friends</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;'&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Tis&lt;/span&gt; the season for anonymous friends. They are thoughtful, creative, great cooks, and stealthy. They come in the middle of the night bearing gifts of cocoa, marshmallows, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;yummmy&lt;/span&gt; excellent pumpkin bread, books, fruits, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;li&lt;/span&gt; hing powder, and big doses of love. They give, give, and give with no desire for recognition. They come and go on the wind, as my husband has made a vow to "catch" them in the act. But he is yet unsuccessful. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;As I come up the driveway in my cold vehicle at 2:15am from work, I see shadows of items on my doorstep. My heart is warmed and I feel a sense of anticipation....what did our friends leave for us tonight? It's like Christmas day. Since the family is fast asleep, I gather up the goods from the porch and take them into the house and go through everything. I read the cards, notes, taste the bread....and then keep eating the bread. It's. So. Delicious. I smile as I read the words of love (while savoring the bread). I eat some fruit....it's as healthy as I'm going to get for a couple of weeks. I brainstorm on what I'm going to put the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;li&lt;/span&gt; hing powder on....oranges, pineapple, popcorn, apples, what else??? I think about how the family will be so happy to see all this stuff in the morning. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;In these precious quiet moments I can put aside my broken heart.&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt; I can put aside the image of my son's drawn out face and empty eyes that haunt me. I can forget if only for a moment that my son has been stolen from me by drugs. I can stop crying. And smile. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;My dear anonymous friends, I know Who's errand you are on. Thanks for reminding me again, and again, and again of the Plan.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-1837649098389024367?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/1837649098389024367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=1837649098389024367&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/1837649098389024367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/1837649098389024367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2008/12/dear-anonymous-friends.html' title='Dear Anonymous Friends'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-5010149899026891263</id><published>2008-12-09T09:00:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T20:06:56.861-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"Songs Of Deliverance"</title><content type='html'>It the midst of trials it is normal to feel depressed, sad, and frustrated. I have had a good share of trials, each one more challenging than the last. While going through these times, it feels like I have been dumped into a deep well and have to figure a way out. I scratch and claw at the wet walls looking for a hold. I dig my feet into small cracks and crevices to push my weight up. I MUST go up. The light is up. Many of my posts, in little ways, depict me trying to get out of this well with bloody fingernails, sweat dripping off my face, with my muscles aching and tired. It appears hopeless. Then, when I feel like maybe, just maybe, I can stay at the bottom of this well because it's too hard, it comes...the "songs of deliverance." It is not a rope to pull me out, but it is a confirmation that I'm not alone. Strength is renewed in my veins. I am lighter, I am stronger, I know I will be delivered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are SOME of my "Songs Of Deliverance":&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Dee left a comment ~ Psalms 32:7 (where I got the phrase "songs of deliverance")&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Mary and Wayne said, "We love you..."&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ula said, "You and your family are in our Prayers we love you guys..."&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Line said, "We love you guys..."&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Rita said, "My heart aches for you...."&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Candice said, "We love you guys the mostest!"&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The sparkle in my baby's eyes when he see's me&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Lesa gave our family tickets to a show at the Scera&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Marin got me Cheesecake Factory cheesecake&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My brother, Joe, made us some panipopo&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Both Sefo and I are now gainfully employed&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The primary kids at Orem 8th still know my name and always greet me&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Melissa said, "you're a goddess" &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The sound of my heart pounding while running&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A card and gift of cocoa &amp;amp; marshmallows left on my doorstep lastnight by friends who chose to remain annonymous(I have a small feeling that it is someone(s) who reads this blog)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;It is something that a few lines of scripture, some keystrokes offering love, a small token of kindness, a prayer, even a hello can send a "song of deliverance" into the heart of a soul trying to climb up to the light. All these come from beautiful instruments playing that loving song composed by the Master. I am humbled. It feels insufficient to just say 'thank you' as my feelings of gratitude and love need bigger words to be expressed properly. But it's all I have today so...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Thank you.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-5010149899026891263?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/5010149899026891263/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=5010149899026891263&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/5010149899026891263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/5010149899026891263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2008/12/songs-of-deliverance.html' title='&quot;Songs Of Deliverance&quot;'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-5699521469798520765</id><published>2008-12-06T16:41:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-06T17:07:06.080-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What's Up With That Woman?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;I want to blog about something cheerful and happy and full of bliss. But I just can't. If you are a regular reader/stalker to this blog (I don't discriminate), you may have noticed that I'm not blogging as often as I usually do. You might be wondering, "what's up with that woman?" Or/and, "Doesn't she know I need my daily dose of 'a fish out of water' to get through the day?" You could even be thinking, "she must be dead or incapacitated because she loves to talk about herself so very, very much." (Okay, so I flatter myself a bit.....okay a lot) Last week we had our 11th anniversary, Thanksgiving, and the most heartbreaking struggle with drug abuse. I am not capable of separating the celebrations from the heartache. Heartbreak trumps it all. I can't decide which is harder for a mother; watching a beloved child get sick and then die in your arms; or watching a beloved child slowly kill himself with drugs and turn you away. But just in case you were worried,  I'm still alive, if only in the that my heart still beats, lungs still breathe, and brain is functioning. Otherwise, I am dead. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;You now have permission to feel sorry for me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-5699521469798520765?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/5699521469798520765/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=5699521469798520765&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/5699521469798520765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/5699521469798520765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2008/12/whats-up-with-that-woman.html' title='What&apos;s Up With That Woman?'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-8034521685102543216</id><published>2008-12-02T10:18:00.006-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-02T11:10:08.665-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Best And Worst Places To Cry</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;In honor of the holidays and my broken heart I have compiled two lists of the "Best and Worst Places to Cry"(&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;BWPC&lt;/span&gt;). All of these places have been tried and tested recently by a team of EXPERTS in crying(team: me, myself, and I). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;BEST PLACES TO CRY:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;The Shower~~There's water all over the place, so why not join in? And when you get out of the shower and the kids ask, "what's wrong with your eyes?" You can say, "I got shampoo in my eyes." And just ignore them when they reply, "again?"&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;In Bed~~Right before you fall asleep. The kids are all in bed already and your husband is either snoring loudly or watching some sport on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;tv&lt;/span&gt;, either way, he won't hear you.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A Funeral~~You don't really need to know who's dead. Everyone else is crying, so you won't look out of place while you sob inconsolably. Just don't sit too close to anyone because they might ask you how you know the deceased. (Although, I was lucky enough to have a funeral to attend Thanksgiving weekend....and I WAS crying for the deceased and his family....just a little for me as well).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;During a Sad Movie~~Like when we watched Madagascar II. All movies have at least one sad part in it.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;While You're Blogging~~Because no one in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;cyber&lt;/span&gt; world can see you. Unless you have a web cam and are dumb enough to turn it on.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Church~~People are flattered because they think you're being moved by their talks or lessons.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;WORST PLACES TO CRY:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;The Gym~~Well, cycling class is okay since it's dark. The treadmill is also okay because you can pretend that you are watching a sad movie, like &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;VH&lt;/span&gt;1 or something like that. But in aerobics classes, it's the worst. Especially when the good &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Samaritan&lt;/span&gt; next to you asks, "do you want me to move out of the way so you can see the teacher?" And you say under your breath, "I'm NOT crying because I can't see the teacher. Please face the front and leave me alone, dork."&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Driving~~Not good. It can be hard to focus or see properly, like talking on the cell phone or putting on your makeup while driving....not safe.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Costco~~Because buying in bulk is supposed to be fun!!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;In Job Interview~~Who wants to hire a cry baby?? (although I did cry in my last interview, along with my interviewer....and I got the job-BUT STILL, one of the WORST places to cry, so don't do it)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A Festive Holiday Party~~Nobody wants you to rain on the joyous parade of the holiday season. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;There it is my friends. Consider yourselves informed. Knowledge is Power! Make sure you copy this, stick it on your fridge, and make a small laminated copy for your purse. These lists, free of charge, will help ensure you don't &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;embarrass&lt;/span&gt; yourself or your loved ones by crying in the WRONG places. Now go. Go on. Go and have yourself a good cry.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-8034521685102543216?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/8034521685102543216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=8034521685102543216&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/8034521685102543216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/8034521685102543216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2008/12/best-and-worst-places-to-cry.html' title='Best And Worst Places To Cry'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-2037884219797353828</id><published>2008-11-25T22:53:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-25T23:05:41.300-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life</title><content type='html'>LIFE, believe, is not a dream&lt;br /&gt;So dark as sages say;&lt;br /&gt;Oft a little morning rain&lt;br /&gt;Foretells a pleasant day.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes there are clouds of gloom,&lt;br /&gt;But these are transient all;&lt;br /&gt;If the shower will make the roses bloom,&lt;br /&gt;O why lament its fall?&lt;br /&gt;Rapidly, merrily,&lt;br /&gt;Life's sunny hours flit by,&lt;br /&gt;Gratefully, cheerily&lt;br /&gt;Enjoy them as they fly!&lt;br /&gt;What though Death at times steps in,&lt;br /&gt;And calls our Best away?&lt;br /&gt;What though sorrow seems to win,&lt;br /&gt;O'er hope, a heavy sway?&lt;br /&gt;Yet Hope again elastic springs,&lt;br /&gt;Unconquered, though she fell;&lt;br /&gt;Still buoyant are her golden wings,&lt;br /&gt;Still strong to bear us well.&lt;br /&gt;Manfully, fearlessly,&lt;br /&gt;The day of trial bear,&lt;br /&gt;For gloriously, victoriously,&lt;br /&gt;Can courage quell despair!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Charlotte Bronte&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;Here I go again, poetry this time. Why is it that someone else says it just the way you feel it (but lack the skills to express it)? AND in verse no less....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-2037884219797353828?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/2037884219797353828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=2037884219797353828&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/2037884219797353828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/2037884219797353828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2008/11/life.html' title='Life'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-2666400362897199654</id><published>2008-11-24T15:11:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-25T08:18:23.576-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When It Rains, It Pours</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Alright people, it's cliche time in Ipo's blogland! That's right! I have had nothing uplifting to blog about for DAYS....so I used my husband as an object of humor (poor guy), then I posted a quote in verse format that SOMEONE else wrote (or said). Today I'm reduced to cliches....in attempt to be "true to myself" (see). &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Our family has been unemployed for the past 2 1/2 months and it has taken such a toll on our little family. Read &lt;a href="http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2008/09/is-that-rain.html"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; for a quick update. We had a great attitude about this new ordeal. We were absolutely sure that if we worked really hard at getting out resumes and the like, we would be out of this financial woe quickly. Well, we're still in it and it is getting worse. You know how when one thing goes wrong, everything else in your life decides to go wrong, even the little things? Take for instance, our shower curtain rod broke. Our camera broke. A tire in our little car shredded on the freeway. Our dryer broke. Our furnace is starting to act up. We're feeling drafts around the house and can't really pinpoint the sources. Zeke decided to put his fist into a wall(to add to all the &lt;del&gt;pain&lt;/del&gt; joy he has been blessing us with lately). You get the idea. And the list goes on. So far, we haven't come across the "straw" ~you know, the one that will break our backs. However, we are low, our hearts and hands are hanging real low right now. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;We are holding on to the bigger things in our lives and they are keeping us afloat:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;em&gt;Faith, that Heavenly Father is aware of our situation and will bless us according to His time&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;em&gt;Service, in our callings&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;em&gt;Family Home Evenings&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;em&gt;Prayer&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;em&gt;Scripture Reading&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;em&gt;A willingness to learn from these hard times&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;em&gt;Gratitude, for trials that keep us humble, and all the blessings we receive&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;em&gt;AND FOR ME.....BLOGGING!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;I already feel so much better than when I started writing this post. Please know that I blog all of these things, not to solicit pity or anything like that (although, if you are a millionaire, I won't say no to a generous donation). I blog for therapeutic purposes. So please don't feel like you have to do anything for us....except you MUST leave some love in the form of a comment!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-2666400362897199654?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/2666400362897199654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=2666400362897199654&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/2666400362897199654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/2666400362897199654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2008/11/when-it-rains-it-pours.html' title='When It Rains, It Pours'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-7869190649961894939</id><published>2008-11-21T22:01:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-22T07:28:42.310-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Always Remember Who You Are</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;"Our Deepest Fear"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.&lt;br /&gt;Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.&lt;br /&gt;It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.&lt;br /&gt;We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous,&lt;br /&gt;talented, and fabulous.&lt;br /&gt;Actually, who are you not to be?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are a child of God.&lt;br /&gt;Your playing small doesn't serve the world.&lt;br /&gt;There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other&lt;br /&gt;people won't feel insecure around you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were born to make manifest the glory of&lt;br /&gt;God that is within us.&lt;br /&gt;It's not just in some of us -- it's in everyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And as we let our own light shine,&lt;br /&gt;we unconsciously give other people&lt;br /&gt;permission to do the same.&lt;br /&gt;As we are liberated from our own fear,&lt;br /&gt;our presence automatically liberates others."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Marianne Williamson&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-7869190649961894939?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/7869190649961894939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=7869190649961894939&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/7869190649961894939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/7869190649961894939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2008/11/always-remember-who-you-are.html' title='Always Remember Who You Are'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-8011598049599622838</id><published>2008-11-20T20:33:00.006-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-25T11:16:49.669-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><title type='text'>My Husband Is Going To Kill Me....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SSYv7zCLFFI/AAAAAAAAAJg/9s7Sav-JhGE/s1600-h/Daddy+%26+Zeus+at+the+baptism.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270953118241854546" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 346px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SSYv7zCLFFI/AAAAAAAAAJg/9s7Sav-JhGE/s400/Daddy+%26+Zeus+at+the+baptism.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Today Sefo asked me to look on my computer for any pictures that he can use on his profile on a professional networking website. I told him that I didn't think I had anything worth using, but I'd look anyway. Since everyone seems to be having polls on stuff, like the big game (Y vs. U), and recently all the polls on the elections, I thought I would join in on the polling fever...So, I have two pictures that I want you all to vote on. Most of you know Sefo and some of you are related to him (yes, that means you, Wayne, you closet blogger). You know what kind of personality he has....I realize that both of these pictures have baby in them, but I'm hoping that will show his great comittment to his family. After carefully examining both photos, please leave a comment with your vote. And remember that we are currently unemployed. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Of course, we can crop out the little shirtless girl, so don't let that bother you. Your participation in this is greatly appreciated!  Here is choice #2:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SSYylUUSvJI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/f3YnVzG7Fow/s1600-h/always+the+clown.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270956030574115986" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SSYylUUSvJI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/f3YnVzG7Fow/s400/always+the+clown.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-8011598049599622838?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/8011598049599622838/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=8011598049599622838&amp;isPopup=true' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/8011598049599622838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/8011598049599622838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2008/11/my-husband-is-going-to-kill-me.html' title='My Husband Is Going To Kill Me....'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SSYv7zCLFFI/AAAAAAAAAJg/9s7Sav-JhGE/s72-c/Daddy+%26+Zeus+at+the+baptism.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-3958274402397950199</id><published>2008-11-18T13:48:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T21:23:13.283-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Finding My Muse</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SSR8Lf-GciI/AAAAAAAAAJY/IAMgNLN8Zbw/s1600-h/WomanRunning_1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270474000932696610" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 237px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SSR8Lf-GciI/AAAAAAAAAJY/IAMgNLN8Zbw/s400/WomanRunning_1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#660000;"&gt;Running is my first love (okay, now it's confirmed, I'm certifiable). It wasn't love at first sight, in fact it was something I dreaded, especially in the early days of our relationship. We started hanging out back in high school. I had to run when playing sports, but just around the gym, you know, ladders, sprints, and stuff. It wasn't until I took a P.E. class in my senior year, that I actually ran, you know, around a track....a mile. I hated it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;To make a 23 year long story short...running won me over. I realized quickly that I had a knack for running and when I lived in places like Samoa, I ran because there weren't very many options for exercise. People would refer to me as, "the crazy girl who ran laps at the OMV" (lovingly, I'm sure).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;All that crazy stuff aside, I want to share with you the real reason I'm in love with running. When I'm running, my body is working to breathe, maintain a good stride, and survive the goal for the day, be it 1 1/2 miles or 10. It's hard work. I find with this hard physical work, if I can take my mind away, I can go the distance. Running becomes a time of reflection, pondering, and inspiration for me. This is how it goes: I get my body warmed up and going, I get into a running rhythm. Then I go into cruise control where my mind takes off and I think about a lot of things, not little fluffy things, but deep matters that concern me, my life, my spirituality, my family, goals, and so forth. I even ask questions and ponder on them. It seems that while my body is busy trying to stay alive my mind is more open to inspiration. I think it may have something to do with being able to get my mind above the busy noise my body is making. When I get home from a run, I have to write. Some of it I share with you all here on my blog. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;So even though you might think that I'm just a psycho crazy woman, there is reason, afterall, to this madness. Running is my muse. What's yours?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;p.s. I ran 4 miles today before cycling class....really trying hard to find my muse...but really, trying to work off all the compulsive/depression eating I've been doing lately. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&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/803496924765809718-3958274402397950199?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/3958274402397950199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=3958274402397950199&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/3958274402397950199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/3958274402397950199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2008/11/finding-my-muse.html' title='Finding My Muse'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SSR8Lf-GciI/AAAAAAAAAJY/IAMgNLN8Zbw/s72-c/WomanRunning_1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-4310737854419927075</id><published>2008-11-18T11:16:00.006-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T14:47:47.079-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Water Or Silicone? (16)</title><content type='html'>I went to see a plastic surgeon once. It was quite an experience. After years of talking about doing it, I was finally in the doctor's office, ready to make my life better, and &lt;em&gt;finally&lt;/em&gt; be happy. The doctor came in with his assistant and they told me how they were going to help me. I was then left in the capable hands of the assistant. It was time, I was going to find the right size. So, on came a tight yet stretchy sports bra and out came the little bags of water. While the assistant was stuffing those said bags into my bra, she assured me that this doctor was very good at what he did, that he had a very good "eye" for these things. As she continued to talk, I noticed that there were quite a few of those little bags in my bra. Was this normal? But they're professionals, I kept telling myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the work of stuffing was done, she slipped a tight tank top on me and the doctor came back into the room. He looked at me (yes, I felt like a piece of meat) and said that it looked good, but informed me that during surgery (whilst I'm knocked out), he would sit me up and make sure that they were the right size AND he would take the liberty of adding more water if HE felt it was needed. I smiled and looked at my reflection in the mirror, again. I was speechless. I know I'm a tall if not big woman (Samoan style), but really?! PORN SIZE BOOBS?! What were they thinking? I mean, going from a B cup to an E cup? Come on!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course I didn't say anything and they scheduled the surgery. I was bothered. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't even eat(sooo not normal). I mean if they were truly professionals then.....&lt;em&gt;then what&lt;/em&gt;?! I couldn't believe that it took me a whole 10 hours before I cancelled. I'm ashamed of myself, I should have said something while standing there in front of the doctor with my chest filled with little bags of water. I probably could have slapped him upside his head with his own bags extending from my chest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a moment of clarity. When I see a lot of women running around, thin as a rail, with huge boobs, I have pity on the poor souls. I mean, they probably didn't realize that while they were out cold the doctor was going to give them the size HE thought was aesthetically pleasing....who does he think he is? God? Of course many women are okay with that...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, the real clarity came when I realized that breast implants weren't going to make me a better person or happy. If I wasn't happy already, something else was wrong....not the size of my breasts (or their elasticity). I knew then that implants weren't for me. I felt assured, inspired-if you will, that I did the right thing. Now, having said that, I have a lot of good friends that have had the procedure done and I do not judge them. Like I said, it was just not for me, for many more reasons than what I have shared with you today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p.s. Just to keep myself in check....made it to the gym at 4:48am....cycling and pump classes. Yesterday I went to the gym at 8:20am (it is so hard to get up early on Mondays, but as soon as my husband gets a job, I will have no choice).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-4310737854419927075?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/4310737854419927075/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=4310737854419927075&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/4310737854419927075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/4310737854419927075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2008/11/water-or-silicone.html' title='Water Or Silicone? (16)'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-5999053327773438361</id><published>2008-11-16T19:41:00.006-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-16T21:25:02.970-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tagged</title><content type='html'>1. Link this post to the person who tagged you: &lt;a href="http://thetongas.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Lolohea&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Post the rules on your blog (SEE!)&lt;br /&gt;3. List 6 random things about yourself.&lt;br /&gt;4. Tag 6 people at the end of your post.&lt;br /&gt;5. Let each person know they have been tagged and leave a comment on their blog.&lt;br /&gt;6. Let the tagger know when your entry is up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#000099;"&gt;I'm glad &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Lolohea&lt;/span&gt; left instructions on what to do when you are tagged....because I had no clue this is what one does if tagged (no, my roots are NOT &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;blond&lt;/span&gt;!).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I graduated from High School when I was 16 years old....so I was only a little kid when I started college (but didn't actually graduate with my bachelor's degree until 13 years later).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I fantasize about being an Olympic medalist in Beach Volleyball! And I've always wanted to be an anchor woman on a network. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I've been on the Great Wall of China. The tourists in China are generally Chinese and they thought we were some race of freakishly tall brown people from some science experiment gone wrong or something because they wanted to take pictures of us at all the tourist attractions we went to(&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;BYUH&lt;/span&gt; volleyball team). And you should have seen the reaction our overweight(in a sumo kind of way), brown coach got.....it was kind of hilarious!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I just realized that I have already broken my commitment to blog only spiritual things on Sunday. So the fourth random thing about me is that I'm human....and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;flakey&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;If I could look like anyone, I would look like me 11 years ago(only because I was 20 pounds lighter). Okay, that sounds conceited, but what I'm trying to say is that I'm happy with being me (weirdness and all). And that leads to......(turn away if you have a weak stomach or are very,very, judgemental)....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;A few years ago, I went to a plastic surgeon to see about getting breast implants (you knew I wouldn't leave without saying something very, very, very revealing). And that's all I'm going to say, I will save the rest of this story for a blog on self image that's brewing in my head. And don't stare at my chest to see if you can tell.....I DIDN'T get them (if I did, it wasn't a very good job).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Okay, there is my shameless way to get all of you to come back to my blog (or chase you off for good).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I tag Rita, Deana, Karmen, Jill, Rachy Maree, and Siana&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-5999053327773438361?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/5999053327773438361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=5999053327773438361&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/5999053327773438361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/5999053327773438361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2008/11/1.html' title='Tagged'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-6888849910454167088</id><published>2008-11-14T13:17:00.008-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-25T11:16:49.669-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><title type='text'>Warning: Depressing Post (12)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SR3gfWAHVaI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/Yu503Ec7IhE/s1600-h/another.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268613968179975586" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 384px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 236px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SR3gfWAHVaI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/Yu503Ec7IhE/s400/another.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday when I was in pump class, the instructor was talking about the huge rival game that will be held next week: BYU vs. Uof U. She pointed me out saying that I would be rooting for the U. I shook my head, no. She then asked if my son was still playing for the U. I shook my head again, no. &lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zeke has a drug problem. He won't admit it to me, but I know he does. In Zeke's first year of college, he was so excited to be fulfilling his dream of playing football, as apparent in this photo.....he is number 99. He worked really hard. Although he didn't see much playing time (which is normal for a freshman), he worked hard. He struggled, however, with getting his weight down to the coach's satisfaction. He even had to stay after practice to work with the strength coach to get his weight down. Zeke has always been a big boy, losing weight just wasn't an easy thing for him. He voiced his frustration to me one day, telling me that he was practically starving himself and watching other team mates eat like crazy and they would lose weight while he remained the same or only lost a very little. When he shared this with me, memories or came to me of when I played volleyball for BYU Hawaii and how I struggled with the same thing. Coaches can put a lot of pressure on you, and in a competitive environment the pressure is tripled(or quadrupled). You get the feeling that you are not very important, and if you don't kick it up a notch, you will be replaced. That's when I adopted an eating disorder (yes, you read correctly).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I talked to Zeke about asking the coaches to change his position where his weight would be acceptable. I mean, he was only a freshman, very athletic, and just a little heavier than the coaches wanted, he could easily learn a new position. But Zeke thought I was just being an over protective mommy instead of a former college athlete who really knew what he was going through, so like most teenagers, he ignored me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The summer following his freshman year, Zeke lost a lot of weight. It just dropped off. Drugs were the obvious suspect. Well, obvious to the outsider....not really to a mother who wants to believe that her son just worked harder than ever and was successful. But the signs of drugs soon came apparent. Zeke became more volatile than ever, depressed, and he started to miss football practices....that was a huge sign. In the end, he dropped out of school. I'm sure he started meth to lose weight, but then became hooked(that's the way drugs work, right?). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you can imagine, I was heartbroken......and will be for quite a long time, perhaps forever. I don't blame the coaches (for the most part). But when I think back to my own college experience, I wonder if I would have turned to drugs if they were made available, or if I had even thought to do it. I don't know. I really don't. In our youth and in desperate situations, we make bad choices with effects that can last a lifetime. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do not watch football anymore. It hurts too much. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p.s. I don't suffer from an eating disorder anymore.....but I had it for many, many years after I was done with college sports. But then again, some forms of eating disorders include excessive exercise....so maybe of hint of it still exists.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p.s.s. Speaking of excessive exercise....I ran 3 miles today before going to cycling class.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-6888849910454167088?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/6888849910454167088/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=6888849910454167088&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/6888849910454167088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/6888849910454167088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2008/11/yesterday-when-i-was-in-pump-class.html' title='Warning: Depressing Post (12)'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SR3gfWAHVaI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/Yu503Ec7IhE/s72-c/another.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-437201943550493126</id><published>2008-11-13T08:09:00.006-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-25T11:16:49.669-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><title type='text'>Random Childhood Story (11)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SRxTV7Gih4I/AAAAAAAAAI4/HNE3HjoB9QI/s1600-h/ulu_up_close_2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268177300224116610" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SRxTV7Gih4I/AAAAAAAAAI4/HNE3HjoB9QI/s400/ulu_up_close_2.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SRxTVuCZazI/AAAAAAAAAIw/RcJ-PVSPM6s/s1600-h/Ulu_tree.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268177296717081394" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SRxTVuCZazI/AAAAAAAAAIw/RcJ-PVSPM6s/s400/Ulu_tree.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;I &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;came across these pictures of ulu (breadfruit, mei) on a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;friend's blog had a couple of physiological reactions(I know, you're thinking..."big word, does she even know what it means?") Anyhow, the first was salivation. Growing up in Samoa, we ate ulu all the time. We had it baked in an umu, boiled with coconut milk &amp;amp; onions (fa'alifu), fried, or just boiled plain. Most of you have had the experience of eating ulu so I need not go into details of the starchy island staple. However, it is a food that I miss eating on a regular basis. The second, was a memory of a day I was walking under an ulu tree with one of my friends and suddenly I was hit on the shoulder by something really heavy. At first I didn't know what it was but a dull pain surged through my shoulder. I turned around and saw the projectile. It was an over ripe ulu that dislodged from the tree and fell down right on my shoulder. After hitting my shoulder, it fell to the ground and splattered. I was so relieved that it didn't fall on my head because it might have made my mental retardation worse that it already was....whew.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;p.s. I did make it to the gym at 4:58 this morning....I just don't want to overload you, after all you are probably still digesting yesterday's post....&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SRxDXg1vTZI/AAAAAAAAAIo/VDMs4Odsbpw/s1600-h/Fatu_ma_Futi.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-437201943550493126?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/437201943550493126/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=437201943550493126&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/437201943550493126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/437201943550493126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2008/11/random-childhood-story-11.html' title='Random Childhood Story (11)'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SRxTV7Gih4I/AAAAAAAAAI4/HNE3HjoB9QI/s72-c/ulu_up_close_2.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803496924765809718.post-7568826215997907888</id><published>2008-11-12T08:11:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T11:41:27.250-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Exercise Of The Day (10)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SRrymiD2HsI/AAAAAAAAAIg/K-WJWbSl_fU/s1600-h/Stepping.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267789457955102402" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 241px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SRrymiD2HsI/AAAAAAAAAIg/K-WJWbSl_fU/s400/Stepping.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;This morning I got to the gym at 5:25am(the class I was going to started at 6am). And as you can guess by the photo, it was a step aerobics class. Step Aerobics is a dying form of exercise. People generally don't like to go because it is kind of intimidating. I mean there are all these (seemingly)complicated moves that you have to learn, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;nevermind&lt;/span&gt; that you have to do them on an apparatus, AND everyone else in the class is just breezing through it, so you feel like a fool. And it really isn't very good on your joints. BUT....you guessed it I LOVE STEP AEROBICS!!! I am part of the dying breed of steppers. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;My history with stepping started in the late 80's. I went to the step aerobics classes in Samoa at one of the two gyms on the island of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Tutuila&lt;/span&gt;. Back then, they didn't use the steps you see in the picture, they actually made steps out of plywood and 2x4's. It was quite archaic. But it worked. And...wait for it....that's when I started &lt;strong&gt;teaching&lt;/strong&gt; step aerobics....don't start imagining me in leotards, tights, and leg warmers because I didn't, okay. Really. But I loved teaching!! Later on, when I moved to Hawaii to finish up school, I got my national certification to teach aerobics (yes, I was official even). I didn't teach much in Hawaii, but when we moved to California I taught at 24hour fitness and a local gym. I was teaching up to eleven classes a week at one point. I was teaching step, kickboxing, pump, and when we moved here, I started teaching cycling classes (at Gold's and 24hour Fitness). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Here's the thing though. When I was teaching so many classes (especially step) I was like a cripple. Yeah, I had to ice my knees and my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;achilles&lt;/span&gt; tendons would ache all day long. It was pathetic. I couldn't even really walk properly after teaching sometimes (but of course I would fake it for all the "people out there"). So that's one of the reasons I don't teach anymore. But more than that, I found that I was so conscious of little things (teaching in Utah)...like, "I'm the instructor, so why am I the BIGGEST person in this class?" But when I look back, I stopped teaching the year my son, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Tauivi&lt;/span&gt;, passed away. I just didn't "feel" like it anymore. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Stop it! Don't be sad! I mean it!! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Back to the stepping(&lt;strong&gt;focus&lt;/strong&gt;).....I only do it once a week, it gives me memories, a challenge, and a great workout!! I humbly admit that I can step with the best of them...And I do still teach, but it's exclusive: I only teach when I go back to Samoa for visits. So if anyone wants to come to one of my classes....let's take a trip to Samoa! (and can you pay for us since I'm kinda broke right now?)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/803496924765809718-7568826215997907888?l=missingtheislands.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/feeds/7568826215997907888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=803496924765809718&amp;postID=7568826215997907888&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/7568826215997907888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/803496924765809718/posts/default/7568826215997907888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://missingtheislands.blogspot.com/2008/11/exercise-of-day-10.html' title='Exercise Of The Day (10)'/><author><name>Ipo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03823048459073039676</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/S_wwN9L4qEI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Hhqf07wClfY/S220/just+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DddEc5sweCg/SRrymiD2HsI/AAAAAAAAAIg/K-WJWbSl_fU/s72-c/Stepping.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry></feed>
